#As for where we left off with the Winter Banquet

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 43

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FF is a pretty good student. Solid Bs in his Gen-eds and As in regard to his major. With one C+ that he’s still working on with Captain Neil but it’s higher than the D+ that he had been pulling before Captain Neil had started to tutor him and he really just needs to pass the one gen-ed required math class.

There was many a deep breathing exercise before he made an appointment with his educational advisor for the next semester back in October but it hadn’t been that bad even though she was the one that had asked if he knew anyone good at math since it obviously was not a strong suit of his. So he dragged his grade up from a D+ to a C+ and he was pretty proud of that.

FF has a preferred spot in each and every one of his classrooms. In his Gen-Ed courses he sits in spots that the Professors don’t even notice and where there is almost always a gap between him and the next person. He arrives perfectly almost late every single day for every single class he can to achieve this feat.

For his Major classes he sits near the front with the few Foreign Language major friends that he has.

FF likes to be prepared. Studying was a nice way to prepare for the future. If he’s already read the entire textbook front to back and taken notes then a pop quiz can’t catch him off guard. He double, triple, and quadruple checks homework. He could probably recite the syllabus for any of his classes off the top of his head. He has read it so much to make sure he’s gotten everything and is on track.

FF kind of likes finals week.

For once, for one week, everyone is as anxious as him.

He sits next to Nicky patting his back as his friend sobs into a pillow. “I’m not going to graduate and it’s going to delay seeing Erik by an entire year!” Nicky yells as he brings his face out of the pillow.

“Nicky, you only got one flashcard wrong how about you shut the fuck up!” Aaron yells from his desk where he seems to have spontaneously developed ambidextrousness as he writes notes with both hands. “Fuck I am NEVER fitting all of this one one index card.” Aaron slams his face into the table.

“I don’t even need this degree.” Matt says looking down at a textbook that he has not turned a page on for the last hour. The fact that Matt had also not even opened that textbook before now was a bit of a cause for concern. “I’ve already got offers for professional teams. I can just play Exy. I do not need to pass a workplace psychology course.” Matt says.

“You think Dan wants an idiot?!” Nicky demands not wanting to go down alone.

“She thinks it’s cute that I’m stupid!” Matt exclaims.

“No she doesn’t!” Aaron points at him, “She said and I quote ‘I love it when you use that big ol sexy brain of yours.’ the last time you had her on speaker phone!” he uses a slightly more…effeminate voice when he impersonates Dan but FF had spoken with Dan and to his memory she did not sound like that.

“Fuck you’re right she deserves an all rounder!” Matt cries, head in his hands.

“Why do I even have to TAKE this Gen-Ed about history?” Nicky demands now holding onto FF as if he were a teddy bear.

“So that we’re well-rounded individuals with a wider perspective on-”

“Smithy, my sweet child, I was not looking for an answer.” he feels Nicky’s hand come up to his hair and maybe he’s being treated more like a favored pet?

“You’re having trouble with a Gen-Ed?!” Aaron asks turning around in his seat, “That’s embarrassing.” he turns his nose up.

“I’m having trouble with something that is going to be useless in my adult life.” Nicky says as if he were not currently an adult. “You are having issues with a class that will have huge ramifications on your future if you don’t manage to learn it!” Nicky points out.

“Eat my shorts Nicky.” Aaron hisses.

“Maybe I could study if you would wash your shorts Aaron. I can smell your laundry pile from over here!” Matt spits.

The fight devolved from there and FF slipped out of the dorm as Nicky was holding a chair over his head to seemingly throw at Matt for his ‘unreasonable number of sticky notes messing up the flow of Nicky’s studying’.

He heard a crash.

“It’s probably fine.” he says to himself and he has his index cards with the speech he has to give for and he really should go over to talk with Captain Neil.

He walks to Captain Neil, Andrew, and Kevin’s door and- “There faster-!”

FF walks away from Captain Neil, Andrew, and Kevin’s door, remembering only in this moment that Kevin had declared that he would be “Living in the library until this paper is done or I am.” to the team at the last practice of the year.

Captain Neil and Andrew were never the type to waste an empty dorm room.

He misses Pepto Bismol as he hears a particularly dirty line of Russian coming from his Captain’s dorm room.

***

Eventually Finals week is done and dusted with only 4-5 more blow-ups in his dorm room that result in Nicky, Aaron, and Matt stopping their fight to see if they accidentally had knocked him out with all of the thrown debris (only happened once when Aaron threw a textbook that Nicky ducked but he didn’t.)

FF came out of his final…final feeling pretty good all around. He had managed to get some extra tutoring time with Captain Neil after Kevin managed to finish his history paper a little early. Despite all of their fears and complaints Aaron, Nicky, and Matt all did manage to pass all of their finals and their classes.

The Tower was closing tomorrow for the rest of the year and despite checking almost every day with Nicky he still was invited to go to New York City with most of the team to stay at Allison’s house.

“Smithy, did you pack a swimsuit?” Nicky asks.

“Nicky, we’re going to New York for Christmas break. Do you think we’re going to swim?” Aaron asks incredulously.

“Two words, my fetus of a cousin: Hot. Tub.” Nicky holds his hand up and putting one finger up and then another. “Is hot tub two words?” Matt asks as he reaches for his own swim trunks.

“Yes Matt hot tub is two words.” FF says nodding.

“Thank you Smithster.” Matt says.

“I can’t believe you don’t know that hot tub is two words.” Aaron says with a huff.

“I can’t believe that you don’t know how to not be an asshole even after you started getting regular sex with Katelyn.” Matt returns, “Look at how not a thing that was when Smithster answered it.” he gestures to FF.

“You cannot compare Smithy to Aaron. Apples and Tomatoes.” Nicky dismisses.

“Whatever, so Allison got a hot tub at her place?” Aaron moves past the conversation.

“Aaron you just made fun of Matt for asking stupid questions.” Nicky says with a hand on his cheek.

“I fucking hate being part of your family.” Aaron says without any real heat.

“Yeah sure.” Nicky says, rolling his eyes and smiling as he saw Aaron packing swim trunks that FF knew he had bought for his cousin.

“Okay, I’ve got the packing list that Allison sent. Do we wanna run through it so that we’re all properly packed?” Matt says holding up his phone.

“Yeah, let’s run through it.” Nicky says with a sigh.

They went through Allison’s provided list twice and then zipped up their suitcases. Smith was going to be driving to the airport with Matt. Neil and Andrew were going to be driving the Maserati up alone while the rest of them were going to be flying up to New York City.

Now onto something that filled FF with far more dread than simply passing tests that determined whether or not he continued to get a free ride in college.

Meeting new people.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

#Fluent Freshman AU #Just as a note I'm probably going to be taking November off #I should be getting the keys to the Condo on Halloween #and there's just so much to do with it #So I'll be doing a smaller WW #and taking the month off for FF #But I'll come back with some fun I've been planning for ages #Specifically Smith getting to meet Renee and Allison for the first time #And really getting to know Dan #There may be a few special guests but I haven't decided yet #Andrew and Neil absolutely take an extra day to get up to New York for 'absolutely no reason' #but the reason was that they pulled off to a quiet pit stop and made out for so long that it was just irresponsible for them #to not go to a motel #As for where we left off with the Winter Banquet #It was just Smith waiting around until the bus came back #He just ignored that old dude looking for him #and walked to the bus without breaking stride #Who knows who said that Smith was there #I do #FF - 42 #AFTG AU #AFTG OC #Andreil #Nicky Hemmick #Kevin Day #Aaron Minyard #Matt Boyd

[letsgetrowdy43]

Slipping on love—

Request: Hey. I loved the latest broken bones imagine with Jack. Could it be possible to do one with Quinn? 🥹

“Take my hand, it's icy,” Quinn extended his hand out to her as they exited the foyer of their apartment complex. Her brows furrowed as she brushed him off, "I'm a big girl Q, I can manage on my own," she smiled and pressed a kiss to his shoulder as they ventured out onto the streets of downtown Vancouver in search of a new restaurant for date night.

The winter season was her favourite time of the year, she loved the atmosphere of winter in Canada, the holidays, and the attire that came with the cold. The only downside was the ice.

Her cute dress pants and blouse matched Quinn's date night attire as they searched for some dinner. She smiled brightly as she looked to her fiancé who raised his brows at her before taking her by that hand, not letting her stubbornness get her hurt.

Her cheeks were nipped pink from the chill in the air, as she talked his ear off about this coordinator she had been talking to about a fund the wives of players on the team were trying to start ahead of the boy's cup run. "I think we are gonna do a banquet, it's last minute, but it's for a good cause and-" she squealed as she began to slip but was saved as Quinn's free hand wrapped around her torso and pulled her to her feet. Quinn laughed at the embarrassed look that filled her expression as she let out the breath she had been holding, "now aren't you glad you were holding my hand," he chuckled as she rolled her eyes and let go of his hand in protest to his picking.

"You're so mean to me," she pouted, as she brushed herself off before continuing on their walk. Quinn let out a laugh as she began to walk much faster than him, he tried to catch up to her, apologies spilling from his lips before he slipped in return. She turned around and looked at him, laughter bubbling in her chest as he sat on the sidewalk defeated, "Maybe you should be holding my hand Mr." she looked at him with raised brows as she backtracked to where he sat laughing at his misfortune.

But as she turned around her feet stumbled, her shoes having no grip, and she fell right onto her side. The shriek that left her lips as she hit the icy pavement was enough to stop Quinn's laughter and have him scrambling to get up onto his feet and beside her. "You okay Dove," he looked at her as she winced in pain. "I think I sprained it or something," she mumbled. "what hurts," he said sitting her up, his hands reassuringly running over her thigh as he watched her blink away the tears that were starting up. "My ankle," she hissed as she felt him press a kiss to her temple, worry filling his eyes as he scooped her up off of the ground and into his arms to take her into the closet store or restaurant so she could be out of the cold before he called someone to go and get them.

A tiny artisan shop was the closet business open around them, the older woman behind the counter welcoming them in with warm smiles, offering to find a chair for the girl who profusely apologized for coming in so abruptly. "Thank you so much," Y/n said as Quinn helped her into the chair and then excused himself to call Petey in hopes of him being free to drive them to the Emergency room. The woman smiled as they watched a worried Quinn just outside the window, "is he always such a worrier?" she asked with raised brows as Y/n laughed. "I'm not quite sure, his mom says he's always a little extra when it comes to me," she joked, recalling the time Ellen had pulled her aside to tell her, the time she got sunstroke when they first got together almost four years prior and he stilled worried himself sick whenever something happened to her.

"Oh so he's in love with you?" she said with a grin trying to end his call with Elias quickly. "I'd hope so," she flashed her engagement ring to the lady, a small ruby on a gold band, a Hughes family heirloom that he gave her in the promise of becoming her husnband.

Quinn entered the store just seconds later, his face a little more calm as he found his rightful place at her side, "Elias will be here as soon as he can," his hand grabbed hers reassuringly, as a way to put his nerves his rest, "you okay?" "you're so in love with me," she grinned as his eyes flitted up the the store owner who was pretending not to eavesdrop on them. "I am," he confirmed, "is that a bad thing?" "No, just like seeing you all worked up about me," she mumbled as she motioned for him to move closer to her face before she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before turning to the lady and sending her a wave before the older women sent a laugh and a thumbs up back.

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#rotalks: Hughes brothers night!! #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine

[cambion-companion]

Hey! It would be lovely if you could write an Aemond/stark or northern!reader that are in a arranged marriage but are two idiots in love, he may be with Alyss but realize that loves his wife and reader is also in love but to prideful and hurt to admit it (ending could be either happy or angsty)

Hi fam! I am SO sorry for the pain I am about to put you through. I decided to be true to the book as much as I could be, there aren't any happy endings with a Stark reader unfortunately

Part 2 is up!

Word count: 2,355

Angst | It gets spicy/not smut though | Aemond x Stark!Reader

I named this one.

And Winter Came

You had been happy at King’s Landing.  The happiest any Stark had ever been that far south.  The sun suited you, warming to your bones.  The food had been much to your liking, rich flavors melting on your tongue.  The pit of despair that had initially welled up in your chest upon hearing you were to be carted off to the capital to be wed in an arranged marriage with one of the Targaryen princes soon filled with an unexpected pleasure.

Queen Alicent and her father Otto Hightower had welcomed you to the Red Keep by throwing a small banquet in your honor and to the honor of your house. “It is not often we get a Stark gracing these halls, you are most welcome Lady Y/N.” Alicent had said, embracing you gently. “I am most happily surprised your lord father agreed to merge our two great houses.”

As were you, when they had received the raven from King’s Landing you had expected your father to read the request and toss it aside as he had done with countless other requests from the Targaryens.  However, this time your lord father had pondered over the missive and eventually came to you with the news you were to be wed to Prince Aemond of the house of the dragon.  Your pleas for him to reconsider had fallen on deaf ears.

The welcome dinner the royals had for you took place in a beautiful banquet hall. Alicent ushered you into the room, and with her arm linked thru yours, led you to the end of the oaken table where a young man with long silver hair had just stood at your arrival.  He was a head taller than you, lithe of body, and carried himself like a highly trained warrior, you noticed that right away.  Your eyes scanned his face, taking in the leather eyepatch adorning the left side of his face, as well as the pink scar that ran in a vertical line beneath it.

“This is my son Aemond, your betrothed.” Alicent introduced the two of you, and each in your turned dipped your head in greeting to the other. “Aemond, this is Lady Y/N Stark.  I will leave you two to get better aquainted.”

She swept away in her green gown, touching her son lightly on the shoulder as she passed him.  Aemond’s hair fell in strands of silky shimmering silver, his one eye the shade of beautiful lilac purple.  His face was angular, with a large nose, high cheekbones and curved lips.  He was handsome, you thought to yourself, not at all what you had expected from the tales told around the fires at Winterfell.

Aemond had been inspecting you as well, his eye flicked briefly up and down your form.  His thin mouth quirked slightly into the ghost of a smile, “Come, sit by me and be welcome Lady Y/N.  You have traveled quite a distance from your family’s seat in the North.”

You and he made small talk during the course of that dinner, and you quickly found conversing with the young prince to be very pleasant and intellectually stimulating.  Here was a man who could match you in wit and knowledge, you felt the freedom of being able to speak about the topics that had long fascinated you and Aemond would contribute with equal intelligence on the subject.

From that night onward, you two became inseparable, walking the corridors together, heads bent near one another as you spoke.  He would find you curled up in an armchair of the library, nose buried in one of the many dusty books, and with an affectionate touch of his hand on your cheek, he’d join you with a volume of his own.

One night, several months after you had first arrived at King’s Landing, there was a knock on your bedroom door.  You pulled on your nightrobe, and padded with bare feet to the door, opening it to reveal Aemond.  He was still dressed in his dark green leather jerkin and grey breeches.  The black boots he was wearing thudded on the stone floor of your chambers as he brushed passed you and into the room.

“Hello to you too, my prince.”  Your gaze was quizzical on him as you closed and latched the door once more.  “It’s hardly proper for you to be visiting my rooms so late at night.”

Aemond had seated himself on your sofa, pulling off his boots with a sigh. “I simply craved the company of my betrothed, surely that is no great sin.”  He held his hands out to you and you walked over to take them, allowing yourself to be pulled to sit beside him.  Aemond gently brushed a strand of hair off your forehead and tucked it behind your ear.  His eye flicked between your own eyes, taking in your every change in expression.  Heat rose to your cheeks at the intensity of his appraisal.

“Aemond, is something the matter?”  You managed to breathe out.

“I wish to show you something, as you are to be my wife.  It is important for me that I allow you to see me as I am.”  In the many weeks you had known the man, Aemond had never sounded nervous.  His hands were clammy in yours. “I wear this eyepatch for the sake of the ladies at court, what lies beneath has proven many times to be too much for their constitutions.”

A beat of silence fell between the two of you.  You let go of one of Aemond’s hands and slowly reached to his face, caressing the leather of his eyepatch uncertainly.

Aemond moved his head away from your touch, his lips pressed into a frown.  “I do not wish you to think me a monster, Y/N.”

“Aemond.” Your voice was halfway between chiding and sympathetic. “I would never think you a monster.”

He allowed your fingers to grab hold of his eyepatch and slowly lift it away and off of his head.  You took him in, your eyes drinking in every detail.  The sapphire he had placed inside the left eye socket shone dully, refracting the light from your sparking fireplace.  There was still glaring evidence of the trauma Aemond’s nephews had done to that side of his face, with just one unwise swipe of a knife. You could hear Aemond’s breath still in his chest as you took your time studying the puckered skin, the scarring, the vivid red line that would never fully heal.

You traced your fingers along the scar on his cheek, ending in cupping his cheek in your hand, tracing your thumb back and forth under his sapphire.  You looked long into his wide violet eye staring back into your upturned face. “You are beautiful, my love. Beautiful,” You said again at his sharp intake of breath, “and brave.”  Aemond had become still as stone, but you leaned forward and placed a kiss just below the scar on his cheek.  Another kiss you placed on his nose and another at the corner of his mouth.

“You will be my undoing.” Aemond groaned, finally moving to pull you into him.

You wrapped your hands around his waist, allowing him to cradle your own face in his hands.  Aemond traced your lips with his thumb, trailing his touch down to your chin where he held you softly.  “May I kiss you, Y/N?”

Your smile was all the answer he needed, tugging you closer with the fingers still gripping your chin, Aemond tilted his head and brought his lips down upon yours. The kiss began a gentle one, chaste even, but your hands gripping the fabric of his tunic spurred Aemond to deepen the embrace.  He traced his tongue along your bottom lip, and you opened to him, groaning softly as he explored your mouth.

Aemond guided you down until your back hit the cushions and he was leaning half his weight onto you.  Your hands moved up his back and buried themselves into his long silky hair, he had a lot of it, and you reveled in the feeling of it slipping thru your fingers.  Aemond let out a small sound as you tugged slightly on his hair, releasing your mouth from his kiss with a lewdly wet sound.  Silver strands tickled your neck and chest as he continued leaning over you, one of his knees pressed between your thighs.  With all the willpower you could muster you did not move your hips down upon his leg.  

“We should…”  Your voice was barely a hoarse whisper.

Aemond nodded, lifting himself off you and helping to pull you back up to a sitting position. “We should continue this at a later date.”

You giggled.

He looked down at you with such a smitten look of adoration it almost made your heart stop.  Aemond took your hand in his and placed a small kiss on the inside of your wrist. “I will take my leave, Y/N, before I give in fully to what I want to do with you.”

He stood, straightening his jerkin from where you grasping hands had wrinkled it. You remained seated, still recovering from the intensity of moments before. “Sleep well, Aemond.”

“Sleep well, my love.” He made to leave your chambers, stopping at your door Aemond turned a final time to face you. “And thank you.”  

After that night, the two of you had sought out the other’s company in private as often as you could manage it.  Aemond had even taken you to meet Vhagar miles outside the city limits, you had nearly fainted from the shock of seeing a dragon many times the size of Winterfell, but with Aemond’s steadying grip on your waist you had the courage to approach her.  Vhagar had even allowed you to touch her, the dragon’s scales feeling like the bark of an iron tree under your fingers. Aemond wanted you to ride her with him, but he stopped asking after you insisted, only half joking, your heart would actually stop in your chest and then he would have no one to marry.

It was only a few weeks before your wedding day tragedy struck.  King Viserys Targaryen, who you had met only the first night at King’s Landing, passed in his sleep.  Queen Alicent seemed convinced his dying wish was to make his firstborn son, Aegon, king instead of Rhaenyra Targaryen.  This meant civil war, and you knew it, and you believed Aemond knew it too.  His tension radiated off him in waves, and he became more withdrawn.  

Not two days after the whole of Westeros knew Aegon was now crowned King did the raven from Winterfell arrive.  Your lord father was making arrangements to bring you back home.  The Starks were pledging allegiance to the Blacks, to Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen.  It was perilous for you to remain at King’s Landing a moment longer and you were to meet your escort out of the city in secret and without a moment’s delay.

Your heart felt like a shard of ice had cut clean through it as your eyes took in the message from your home, from your father.

You could not marry Aemond.

Your betrothal had been broken and, though it was by no fault of your own, you felt very much the part of the traitor.  

Feeling sick with guilt and grief, you did your duty as the daughter of Lord Stark and fled the city that night.  You did not see Aemond before leaving, knowing if you sought him out, he would convince you to stay.  Whether out of love or device, and you would soon become a prisoner of war there. Either way you were a pawn in an uncaring chess match, and to an extent you recognized Aemond was too.

Upon your arrival back at Winterfell, your father announced you would instead be betrothed to one of Rhaenyra’s children after they grew into men.  You had wordlessly locked yourself in your cold chambers, the septas could barely coax you to eat the warm meals they brought you each day and most times the food went untouched at your table.

How you missed him, with every fiber of your being you ached for Aemond.  He must hate you now, knowing how you had betrayed him.  You would lie awake at night, staring up at the grey ceiling, wishing to hear the beat of dragon wings approach.  During winter storms you would often fool yourself into thinking you did hear Vhagar approaching, carrying Aemond to you with news they had won the war and you could now be wed.

Months passed and you continued to mourn, looking out the window at the bleak landscape surrounding the castle.  Never before had you felt a prisoner inside the walls of Winterfell, never before would you have thought you’d yearn for the warmth of King’s Landing.

Several months into your self appointed isolation, a Raven arrived for you from Harrenhal.  It was from Aemond.  You tore the letter open with shaking fingers, but with each line you read your stomach dropped further into despair.  You let the paper fall from your grip, fluttering to the floor, and you sunk slowly till you knelt upon your sheepskin rug.  

He was with another woman, some Alys Rivers, and had taken her as well as Harrenhal for his own.  His words, written in a tidy black scrawl, had been cutting.  Clearly his heart had hardened against you, and the personal hurt you had dealt at your departure from King’s Landing as well as the Starks declaring for the Blacks had solidified you as the enemy in Aemond’s mind.  He had called her “my Alys” in the missive, your stomach turned, and bile rose to the back of your throat.  With a sudden burst of feverish energy, you grabbed the parchment, balling it in your fist, and hurled it into the fire.  Unbidden tears streamed down your cheeks as you curled in upon yourself there on the ground, and there you remained until long after the sun had begun its ascent in the eastern sky.

#aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #aemond x oc

[d10nsaint]

A love triangle with dion cassis where you already had kids with dion (for some reason i could see him having 5 children) and cassis is into milf's

a/n:Why do only i get requests like this?

>So, i'd say this is in a messed up ver. of the current timeline so the children would fit in the timeline.

>So, with a toxic relationship with Dion, and a new toy cassis, what could make him differ from other toys?

>You visited him at night while dion was out on a mission.He had been cleaned up and was tied down with the magical chains.

>And when he saw you, in a short nightgown, the lovely lanternlight shining on your face, he was in awe.

>And when you said sorry for how your kids might have been too rough, his face got even redder.

>kids?All five of those monsters were her kids? Shes that hot and has kids?

>And when you topped it off with a lovely seductive smile,How could he not fall inlove with you?

>Thank the lords that you couldnt see his pants tighten!

>And when he found out from the guards about who you were, (They gossiped about your body) a dim look took over his face. You were married to the monster of Agriche, Dion.You had sex with him, gave birth to his kids, and stayed with him after.

>And, on the night where he escaped, he confessed to you;A married woman with kids.He left before you got time to respond.

>When you saw him at the banquet, you completely froze up at first, but then you greeted him with the same smile that you gave him when you met him.He stiffened up and lost composure.

>Later that night, you saw cassis in the forest.When you called out to him, you saw how he smiled at you like he had seen the prettiest woman ever. he kissed your hand and wrapped his arm around your waist.

> "Excuse me.sir cassis, You do know im married with children, right?" Your face relaxed at the kiss on your hand.

> "If you didnt like it, you would have pushed me off, my lady."he bent down and put his head on your shoulder, taking in the cold on your thick nightgown.

>”Sir Cassis, what is so appealing about me that makes you like me so much?”

> “Maybe how you give every man you meet a smile, or how you were still so kind to me and helped me when Roxana couldnt.Or, maybe how you have kids?”He was speaking into your shoulder so you couldnt see his face.

> “..Sir Cas-”

> "What scandalous behavior between a married woman and a man who just turned 19."YOu heard the rustle of a pair of thick boots crunch the winter leaves. Dion.

>Cassis still kept his grip on your waist. "Maybe we would'nt be here if your wife knew how to cover up-Or maybe if her husband paid attention to her."

>..you found yourself between Cassis and Dion.

>Whenever cassis sees you,he complements your beauty, gives you roses,kisses your hands..

>Whenever dion sees you, he fucks you to assert dominance.

#leigewrites #dion agriche #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #the way to save the older brother of the heroine #cassis #Agriche #dion #dion agrece #dion agriche x reader #cassis pedelian #cassis x reader #manhwa x reader #manhua #manhwa #manhwa smut

[kittrrrr]

For the secret valentine hosted by @writeblrcafe. My secret Valentine was @lacunasbalustrade. I don't really have much to say, just that it will be under the cut and I haven't got a clue what I should name it. Oh yeah, I wrote a story instead of prose because I'm not sure what that is, and I got the impression that prose is just a fancy word for writing. Enjoy

I don't... I don't like Valentine's day. There, I said it!  Apparently, this is a big deal. I just don't see it. The only reason you like it is because there's always been someone there for you! It probably doesn't help that February is utterly dreary in Constantine. The sky and ground are grey, the roads filled with slush. The cheerful little town was a shadow of itself. People called Valentine's day a spark of hope in the cheerless half of winter, but honestly, it was just a hassle. Besides after Valentine's, there was a rise in, um, those kinds of diseases. I would know- I work at the desk of the only doctor's office in all of Constantine. 

Well, it only came once a year, and luckily it was almost time. Just under a month left. I gloomily pondered this as I sloshed through slush. I guess the holiday is all sweetness and good intentions, but sweetness and good intentions will leave you stranded on the side of the road with a broken heart and a banquet of wilting roses. I huffed, rubbing my hands over my nose. We were having our customary heat wave, which made all the December snow into a melty mess. In order to lessen the chance of getting drenched by a passing car (which had happened more than I liked, even if I was much more cautious now), I was taking my shortcut through Constantine's central park, when a lady about my age came barreling through. I was clearing a spot off a bench to people watch, and didn't see her coming. So she knocked me over, soaking us both through. 

"Oh NO! Jeeze, I'm super duper sorry! I didn't see you! Sorry, sorry, sorry!" She yelped, pulling me up by arm. I felt like lying in the snow for a little longer, feeling sorry for myself, but she didn't pick up on this. Just as well, I suppose- I wouldn't want frostbite or something equally nasty. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear..." She mumbled, stepping back.

"Where were you going in such a rush?" I grumbled, getting a good look at the human bowling ball. She was quite tall, with waves of pink and red streaked through brown hair. Green eyes sparkled behind bangs that had come loose in our strike. Despite the general lack of sun in town at this time of year, her face was covered in freckles.

"Oh..." The woman's face turned red. "I needed to get some documents to my boss in the next town over, but the last bus just left. We're getting a new store set up here, and I finally got the paperwork we needed... My boss will be mad I wasn't able to get the papers to her immediately. I'm so sorry, sorry, sorry..." I huffed. While getting soaked wasn't exactly a amazing thing, I was already on my way home. (Well, after some people watching) And this woman at least had a good reason for soaking the both of us. I frowned, because while I'd probably only see her passing, I'd do my best to welcome her to Constantine. We needed more stores- the economy struggled, and people had a hard time getting and keeping jobs. I was lucky I was so qualified, and it still took me over a month to get my current job. 

"Well, just- just watch where you're going." Oh, that didn't sound very welcoming. "Er- Welcome to Constantine." With that, I shoved my hands into my pockets and walked off. I didn't see Melody smile or hear her giggles. I had to get home after all. It wasn't like I expected to see again so soon.

And then, a few days later, she popped up again.

While Constantine isn't giant, it's not small enough that I would've expected to intercounter Melody again at least until after Valentine's. I think she just wanted to make my life harder, because when she came into the clinic, it took every drop of profesionalizam not to sink under the desk. Sure, I didn't mind that she'd bowled me into the slush, but I was hoping to avoid her a while. Meeting someone by getting knocked over by them didn't do anything for my social anxiety. 

"Good morning, welcome Horten's Family Clinic! How can I help you today?" I asked, like I was reading from a script. Goodness, why did she have to look so sheepish? 

"Um... Hi? I- Hang on! You're the person I knocked over a week ago! I never got your name- Well, if you don't mind telling me?" Melody rubbed the back of her head. The blush made the pink in her hair pop even more.

"It's Gabriel. Why are you here?" Oops... It's not my fault socializing is so hard! Melody blushed harder, turning the color of a strawberry. She whispered something, and, to my chagrin, I couldn't hear her. "Um... what'd you say?" 

"I think I broke my wrist..?" She asked. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes; I didn't want to make her feel worse. I started tapping at my computer, looking for an opening where one of our doctors (the Hortens were some of the kindest people I'd ever met) could see her. I found that the oldest Horten, Dr. Port Horten, had an opening in a half hour. I told Melody this, and instead of going to sit down, she lingered by my desk.

"Well?" I asked. Sure, I didn't hate her, but being overly people-y wasn't my thing either. She shrunk a little and sighed.

"You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch." She sang under her breath. And-

"Excuse me? You just called me a Grinch!" I exclaimed, surprised. She turned back to me, a devilish grin on her face. 

"Yeah? Well, that's what you are, Mr. Grinch!" She laughed... (She had a really pretty laugh). 

"The Grinch was for Christmas!" I grumbled, since there was nothing better I could retort with. Melody's smile widened, and her sheepishness faded. 

"His heart was two sizes too small- I think it means that he hated everything!" Melody spun, laughing to herself, satisfied that she'd won the dumbest argument in the history of arguments. But then she lost her balance and fell, crashing to the floor. I peered over the counter, where Melody was clutching her wrist, apparently having fallen on it again. I asked if she was alright, and she waved me off. At least knew how she broke her wrist in the first place. She defeatedly got up and sat in one of the terribly uncomfortable chairs. Somehow, it didn't seem right to see her like that. Around fifteen minutes later, Dr. Port called her name, and she left.

"She's a cute one, ain't she?" An older woman's voice spoke up as I watched Melody disappear to Dr. Port's office. I whipped around and groaned. Mrs. Wilderberry. 

"What can I do for you, Mrs. Wilderberry?" I asked Constantine's most prominent widow.

"Ask that girl out! And is my weekly with Dr. Horten ready?" I sighed.

"Mrs. Wilderberry, which Dr. Horten?" She just laughed. 

==

Somehow, I encountered Melody again! At this point, she was seeking me out! I certainly wasn't looking for her. This time, she had a soft pink cast and was talking to Mrs. Wilderberry, who was the reason I couldn't just pretend I hadn't even seen Melody. Why? That crazy old bat called me over. Then Melody saw me and waved. At that point, it would just be rude to leave. So I dragged myself over to them. 

"Gabe, you just have to sign my cast!" I glanced down at it, but then looked away before I could be blinded further. My eyes were used to the grey skies and streets of Constantine this time of year, and the soft pink was like staring into the sun. 

"Why. Is. It. So. Pink?" I grumbled. Melody smiled and told me the name of the holiday I hated most, while explaining she was having people write their names in hearts. Mrs. Wilderberry gasped, and leaned in to whisper something to Melody's ear. Melody's eyes widened, and she glared at me.

"I was right! You are the Grinch of Valentine's day!" I sighed, rolling my eyes. 

"And this is why you don't talk to old ladies." Mrs. Wilderberry playfully bopped me over the head, and took it as my cue to leave. Melody hurried after me, to my surprise. I just kept walking, but slowed, and she fell into step beside me. We were both quiet for a long time, not going anywhere in particular. I was waiting for her to ask- everyone did. I never told anyone who did. 

She finally opened her mouth, but I cut her off. 

"Why are you in Constantine?" I asked. She paused, then hurried after me so as to not fall behind. 

"Because my boss required me to-" 

"Bullcrap. Everyone in Constantine is- or was- running from something. Hurting from something. So... what are you running from?" I turned to look Melody in the eyes. I had to tilt my head up a little to meet her eyes, but the effect was the same. Melody stared back, eyes full of surprise and a dozen and two other emotions I couldn't untangle. She finally asked me for my proof. I smiled, waving my arms around. "Why? Doesn't this place just not scream desperation to you? Even in the summer, everything's just a little off. But... Proof? I got plenty of that. Mrs. Wilderberry is only here because she couldn't bear puttering around her old home without her husband. The Hortens moved here because Dr. Port couldn't fight accusations of malpractice any longer- though they had no proof!" The light changed and I crossed the street, Melody trailing after me like a sad duckling. 

"What are you running from?" Melody stepped in front of me. I just mirrored her devilish smile from earlier. 

"Why do you think I hate Valentine's?" I answered, and walked off, leaving Melody in front of the florist's. Her eyes were full of tears, and something else I couldn't place. Maybe... maybe it was sympathy.

==

"Did you break your other wrist?" I asked, not looking up from where I was working. Melody had come in. I could only tell because her hair, with fresh streaks of red and pink, was draped over the counter.  

"Shut up." Melody said, turning a shade or rose. Or so I assumed. She was pretty predictable, as I was starting to learn. Well, I though so. I didn't expect her to say what she did next. "So... are you free tonight." I finally looked up at her. 

"I. Hate. This. Holiday. What do you think?" She stared at me, a small smile forming as I nodded.

"So... You wouldn't mind if we watched a movie at my place?" It was my turn to stare. Why in the world would someone like Melody want to hang around someone like me? (Maybe it was because her smile wasn't for show. Maybe it was because she cared. Maybe, maybe, maybe...) I shrugged. 

"If that's all...." Melody smiled. She dropped a slip of paper onto my desk. "Place and my phone number. Bring soda." Then she was gone, soon to waltz back into my life as she often did. Despite the fact I would like to have done literally anything else, I was still happier then normal to leave the stifling office. Seriously, four o'clock couldn't have come any sooner. I left the office, wandering into the dumps of Constantine, where everyone got their first apartment in Constantine. I climbed a set of very familiar steps and knocked on my old apartment's door. Melody threw the door open and smiled at me, then hauled me in. 

"C'mon! I found the movie I wanted to show you!" She took the soda from me, and I stepped out of my shoes. A few minutes later, she had everything set up, and I watched as she flicked past one of my favorite movies.

"Hey! Can we watch that one after yours?" I asked, pointing to it. She blinked.

"The.... The romance?"

"I don't... I don't hate romance. I... actually like the idea.. A lot... Just-"

"Bad memories?" She whispered, cutting me off. My shoulders sank down. I hadn't expected her to understand- but then again, I hadn't really talked to anyone about it since I'd come to Constantine. A single nod, and Melody turned back to what she was doing. The silence stretched for a long moment, before Melody climbed up onto the couch. "Do you want to talk about it?" She held the remote out, not looking at me. I hummed. 

"It's a long story... But... Valentine's is all about trying hard, and.. I just- that doesn't work out for any one." Melody smiled. 

"I'm sure that you've got plenty- but would you like another friend?" 

"Of course... If you want to..." She smiled at me, then started the movie. It was nice having someone to talk to, for once. You were expecting me to tell you some story about new love? Well, I did. Just not the kind of love you thought goes with Valentine's. 

#wcsecretvalentine #writeblr cafe #writing

[unbreakable-oaths]

Au Ra August Day 24- Mystery

Or, one retainer’s journey to find his charge after the Bloody Banquet.

Khutulun was missing. The Scions had promised him that she would be safe with them while he answered the khatun’s call home because they needed more warriors to fight in the Naadam. The injuries he sustained in the battle had delayed him and now she was missing, and the Scions were all missing or presumed dead. The blue coated warriors once led by a teenager turned out to be snakes, and one attempted to take his head when he returned to the Rising Stones looking for her upon his return.

Rumours swirled around if you knew where to listen, and Jaghatai knew how to listen. Some said she had gone into hiding after assassinating the sultana. Ridiculous. Preposterous. Khutulun was too consumed by her forge to ever bother involving herself in politics, especially the convoluted cesspool that was Ul’dahn politics. And no Dotharli warrior would ever lower themselves to assassination. There was no honour in that and Khutulun was an honorable warrior. Other rumours said it was she who was nearly assassinated and had fled for her life. Perhaps likely, but unlike her to not meet a threat head-on. Official channels had been unhelpful in parsing out the truth, and so he was left listening to the underworld. Reliable information eventually made its way to him. She had gone north- to Coerthas, a neutral state that owed her a great debt. And so, he made his way to Camp Dragonhead.

It was cold here. Not as cold as a steppe winter, but far colder than anywhere else he had visited in Eorzea and he was not dressed for the weather. No matter, a Dotharli warrior carried on and he was a Dotharli warrior with a mission.

“Where’s your commander?” he gruffly asked a guard at the gate, “I have important business with him that cannot wait.”

The guard directed him towards one of the large buildings surrounding the aetheryte and he stalked inside.

“Where is she?!” his thickly accented voice rang out through the hall, “where have you hidden her?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific, my friend,” the blue-haired elf behind the desk said placidly, “I haven’t the faintest who you’re talking about.”

Jaghatai closed the gap between him and desk, and drew himself up to his full height, “Khutulun Dotharl, the Warrior of Light, Defender of the Steps of Faith, or whatever other idiotic title you have since saddled her with. I know she came to you. So- Where. Is. She?”

Haurchefant stood to meet the irate xaela, “I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea who you’re talking about,” and his smile became something sharp, “are you sure you’ve come to the right place?”

Jaghatai growled and reached for his axe only to be stopped by the sound of drawn steel behind him. Several knights had moved to flank him, and he dropped his arm back down.

“Now my friend,” Haurchefant continued, “there’s no reason to lose our civility. However, unless you had other business to attend to, I would suggest you leave my camp posthaste.”

The xaela glared at the man before turning around and walking out the door, several knights behind him to make sure he left Camp Dragonhead. Once well outside the walls, he sank down behind a tree in a break from the wind.

“Sadu-khatun is going to kill me,” he mumbled as the khatun’s charge to him rang in his horns.

“By all means let her soul burn bright in the blacksmith’s forge,” the khatun had intoned, “But, if she were to fall in battle, you will bring her bones back to us or you will die trying. The Steppe and the Dotharl will not lose the Warrior-of-10,000-Horses to another nation’s war.”

“Khutulun, where could you be?” Jaghatai rose and set off towards the Shroud- determined to find some warmer clothes before continuing the search for his wayward charge.

Meanwhile, in Camp Dragonhead, Haurchefant let out a relieved sigh. “Well done men,” he said, “Full glad am I that we have finally gotten the Warrior of Light safely ensconced in Ishgard proper. To think, the Crystal Braves are resorting to hiring far eastern mercenaries to track her down. I would hate to see what would happen if they could afford to hire more fellows like him. Just as Khutulun once kept us safe, we now owe it to her to keep her safe from men like him. Let her whereabouts continue to remain a mystery to those who would do her harm.”

#ffxiv #auraugust #auraugust2023 #ffxiv fanfiction #au ra xaela #haurchefant greystone #my writing

[batgirlsay]

Cold Like Winter

Vampire AU Playlist for Obiyuki AU Bingo 2022 by @snowwhite-andtheknight

I used this AU as an excuse to make another Obi fall/winter themed playlist…

Started rearranging some fall/Halloween themed playlists and ended up with a story where vampire Obi falls for Shirayuki and has a lot of doubts about them being together. Eventually, after sharing his feelings, Shirayuki becomes the “final girl” and thinks about becoming a vampire too. The Anthony Green and Matt Pond songs fit perfectly for this theme!

East Coast Winters- Anthony Green You’re So Dead Meat- Anthony Green Your Ghost- The Decemberists Ghosting- Mother Mother The Haunting- Anberlin Halloween- Matt Pond PA Last Light- Matt Pond PA Final Girl- Chvrches

Summary lyrics are cited after the bonus vampire obi!

East Coast Winters- Anthony Green

Anyone who walks down my path after it snows Will cover up their footprints

Anyone who walks through my door is already done for And if you walk a mile in my shoes, you'd never choose You'd never come back here

As far as I can tell, you never got it right And everyone I know is all but turned away Scattered in the dark

You’re So Dead Meat- Anthony Green

Faces of doubt Haunted by the memories of everything minus the bad stuff

Sorrow and all Don't tell me if you care, come alive with it, let it show And don't wistfully believe I would die for it

Your Ghost- The Decemberists

Along the old seawall Inside the banquet hall Below the cellar stair Maybe you'll find me there Your ghost

And at your final end When you are free again No longer long to be You will belong to me

Ghosting- Mother Mother

I've been ghosting, I've been ghosting along Ghost in your house, ghost in your arms When you're tossing, when you turn in your sleep It's because I'm ghosting your dreams

And this is why I have decided To pull these old white sheets from my head I'll leave them folded neat and tidy So that you'll know I'm out of hiding

I remember, I remember the days When I'd make you oh-so afraid

I will be kind and I'll be sweet If you stop staring straight through me

And this is why I have decided To leave your house and home unhaunted You don't need poltergeist for sidekicks You don't need treats and you don't need tricks

The Haunting- Anberlin

Up on this hill, in this uncanny house The wind makes this place creak, the lights they are flickering The moon she is lurking, the clock it stopped working At a quarter past three

There's something dancing here in the shadows And I wish it were us

You haunt me baby, you haunt me here tonight

Can't get your memory, off of my mind Just want your heartbeat, on top of mine

Up on this hill, in this uncanny house Your spirit I can't see, but I still believe I can feel your breath on me

Halloween- Matt Pond PA

Went to where the people were on a Saturday night Seems like it always seems Where I go, I want to leave

I surprised myself as my mouth started speaking There is nothing left of my nerves As I lean over to ask her Pardon the intrusion Could we leave before it gets bad?

Last Light- Matt Pond PA

Night comes in and takes our light As we turn once again in the sun We don't have to drift out of sight But shadows will fall and run

Green turns gold and the gold turns green As we turn one more time past the sun Light like no one else has seen As the shadows will shift to none Yeah, they'll run, they will run, they will run As the day's last light soon is done

You thought it was your time To give into the endless night No, you were not right

Sky hangs heavy in the lowest light As the day slips down past the sun Black and blue in the forest green Shadows are gone, they have run

I can feel your hand let go of mine Drift you to where there isn't any light And I can never sleep enough, that's right Something makes me nervous 'bout the night

Final Girl- Chvrches

Keeping secrets until everything became a bit too loud

And it feels like the weight is too much to carry I should quit, maybe go get married Only time will tell

Don't want to find your daughter in a body bag So I need to get out now while most of me is still intact

In the final cut In the final scene There's a final girl Does she look like me?

#obiyukibingo22 #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #obiyuki #playlist #lyrics #anthony green #the decemberists #mother mother #anberlin #matt pond pa #chvrches #bonus vampire obi is from that scene where he tells a scary story to zen lol #all of my obi playlists end the same way

[libidomechanica]

“With their loud alarums he doth boil, and wisely Joyn,”

A Meredith sonnet sequence

               1

He was above the sun. And taste, and with   good wishes to sit down; and streets another   give some thought to rob him of Rest? With their loud alarums he doth boil, and wisely Joyn, the best presumption more than Life,   you shall she knows my lord there, while Strongbow   from walking like religion, and piteous plaintively began to sound of the hot tyrant’s wish, or told a tale, still to Defend   thee. But if thou hast no eyes the strange,   he could make them at the gallant and Duty be thought another and show’d the Shepherd lad, or three seem a heterogeneous   mas to brook a ruffled rose-trees watching   like a shame, ’ he said, or sworn to the other, a statue waking, till the day.

               2

Els thou callest their well doing, to score;   that he had refuse the sun his glutton   eye so full of Noise and pipkins are for qualities which sure at my feet. Fondling, ’ she saw or knew; all is not sweet coral   model. But I need, not weigh, of white and   walk about to hatch a purple robe, and Naming is for every where; but not by Sun or Glass: while slowly, by me and spoke   not: Wake! And I’ve been standing in his corporal   quaking, but ebbs like a wild bird being glorious nothing—I’ll not fear; it shall bleed. At his choicest wines; the mode of   navigation a goodly growth and foul   face, about the winter share. There came if we watchman ever take an Englishman.

               3

Their mouths of great blue how coud his Arrow   went and snow? Upon my sleep, and shorn of   him, thy powerful parson, Peter Pith, the little less famed forth into a new; so close in your patience chokes and glittering   sigh Gulbeyaz heaved a heavy mind advanced.   Is a frightening, the banquets and drove that a poetess, ’ turning sunflower, fairing their hand, and self-love, the Veil flung off   him of the rich perfum’d with the other;   yet you always closed, that old black was not the pointer ranges, but he had been driven from Female love after all, what with   discreet surprise and clamour braue. Doors there   were gene: ’ the great lustre, mixt of shade, within: of conqueror’s Sword, which trotted out.

               4

In such a matter the great blue how coud   heavnly Justice to his speech was to stop   at somewhat larger was he should be half sick of shame which working out a sun thy visions—was Adeline was remote Shalott.   Language: we retort the foul boar’s conquest   by the whole act express her fair cheeks, she has twa sparkling roguish een. But, which might savour hue, and left but memories,   his light shone against the bare hill; the   rain, frost, hail, and urchin-spouted in a lock without, roses it would not as his Western of your young charge, and then, even   then takes the meaning, the sun of all his   Bride. The chapel empties, and thou wouldst stay’d still, t is a voyage or vessel lost.

               5

But her hunt, I put himself from Court, that   would will have found the Oda, in a net   I seeke, to giue my Rosalind, and a heart. Know to choose—perhaps these did the glory as his Kindness by long since full detail   o that I could scarce dost surviving   rash one. As Sylvio did; his gift; creating for mourning, from survives is gold: nimrods, whose turn it was harder to enjoy.   But bid beware! I desires, not   very beautiful was never when my stuttering sigh: heaven appeals,—although your hand hath killed him alive and although   I leaue nothing a proud brow’s blue veins fill   her way. Said Juan; but I really so, you’re for the flow of Fate. Hail and trembling knees.

               6

Her present culprit came this we have talk’d   on him to Get ready, ’ replied, Between   the great: the fire shine, and stood with roses almost smother would distinguish’d men which on their tongues language Fescennine. ’—In truth,   howe’er you play and from Venus’ side. Such,   they should not spoil are made mine eye? And most genius for this flocke in fields at last, without Title not ask a tender boy, who   best cou’d be undone: for rich and gives lighter   night and conscious of his Toyls shall be my dear love, those Eastern she wrote, and whisp’rings are fond forgot, would have you, that your   times even more, I heard or seen, the meant   her from whom earth withal: it lies perhaps as outlines or slight, scarlet cloak, alas!

               7

More than myself the Crown; and the dinner   of Monarch’s End. Which ne’er a flowery   scene, just opening an air that is—neither side two little pale—with what he had a more detain; starve, and Starry Pole: from   Earth, thy Fruit must be believers, who must   be, or gathered shake dew on the Throne, when Kings oppression of her still lying on the heat he feelings rarely on field sleep   upon the great priority is love   just as a catches. Thought or wrong, though all the rest I’ll set your life, and it will prevailed, so many times be in the more shund   the Old mens Dream! ’Er them make the marble   fountain’s preferr’d his time, after all the day more than his Western of half his suit.

               8

And as warm; and as their hopes and fresh, as   doubtless grace and aw’d resistance made them   freely. And the Laws; and Juan, sure I do. And throw down old—which is London winter’s unsought, from life, the last to move to worke   delyte? He would pick throng’d in a pit to   catch like case, thy Shadows like slaves! In the eye could not being them all to hall. Twine likewise equal, but design’d run much more   easy by the Noblest view of thy house   and would with a steady Skill come to bake a porcupine, on the Triple Bond he broken faith and fruit; for Faction claim; his   Loyalty the Kurds. They think our self the   Crowd be Judges days that day. The stair, and said his neck alone projects to his side?

               9

And here at his king in me understand;   and merely had trench’d, or whose children and   will forging Nature’s chime, since men are as firme in stature, now she could Statues draw to mean Rebells her, not to grieve. And forks   clank’d round her fancies that made to lie; he   has twa sparkling roguish een. The haste unfortunately Brave to isolate that Shimei, whose hollow in the day, and   loud, sure signs he neighbour’s prayer; heaven,   the train as much the Multitude to deeds to pray: so sure to draw the People grew,— a most prodigious Action, and required   don Juan’s head; secondly, must let slip no   occasion; deeming the Jews. His Cooks, with all pass his high desire: affecting.

               10

Sleepers startled in their strength obey’d in   blood, gave it a slight shall swear! She left to   pull it.—But sorrows airy, beneath our shalt not receive you. Yet she died. As father’s sorrow, for all her head to have no   author’s wheel? All, though for me. So, to one   of the earth with more than Life, you need not feel what t was to the victories. ’Tis an old gun-barrel. And water filter’d Hearts   from David’s mildness may Controul, such nectar   from heaven. Her black and dress did not evil nor meant her from whose tushes slay. And there a saint. I, having. Whan the circle’s   narrow limits of song, be prov’d assays,   and carved lady’s maid. In case of an every tongues: and then nothing, or rehearse.

               11

And, if they were thing happens a dozen   times do I love the stock might leaves me nothing   much like chance is mute in an ancient Honour blest all fiction. And tenor of their lords, t is time will kiss, the praise; the   Pack; tho not of a single virtuous   action of the dead he is, that closes and opens; only sort of sin, and next she gave: if fond of sleeping; a single   virtues, let us cry till not matter,   although the first woman’s the body a bundle unthreshed and post away their little Child for Chastisement, pinching   its according Muse. Causing their tunes attempts,   wit waits his Paws; till at strive, too, are never Rebels who boss the worst tattoo.

               12

How like an ell—and make him, and our disguise,   a lady; Baba saw the heat deeds   and found it not his teeth are of the great she hath shed claret and plague her till her teeth at him several Mother of a   drunken when she throne, where was Parolles,   where it wasn’t the fairy, whom I’ve watch the height of a mile: thought hers gave a fin of fish, fowl, and ladies gent. Sick weak weed, thought   most likely to attaining, t will be   so lamely drawn, sleepers startled in though the Crowd be Judges days must see, to-morrow he is dead or sleep’s doubtless should have   a mutual flame kind hearse our legend—   ’if you must go their mien and die. It’s an ideal it’s a kind consort with the skies.

               13

And General Good descending to the tempests   raise the world arraigned, were some hunters   teares would put off from another from his heart from her twining arms do lend his friends. For commonest ambition; but could   say, spite of the Golden Calf, a State, tO   sell they scarce past—and looking with the Banquet Hall like Paradise. And Juan, or Juanna, through our shalt make her know not whether,   inspiration, was dearly purchased choicest   virgins—a child a few, not evil unto some heat deep take them without colours rife, bound dizzily,—mistake sequins   with long besides, I’m hungry craving were   causing their happy bands! He fed his silver o’er, and by, ’ replied, began to run.

               14

Or on this rusty bosom, when once you   have not enough; for howe’er kisses her;   and no spurre can his ransom the Moon, the passport every one, unjust and kings. To make each Asiatic hill, or hunt: the   boy’s a-dying. The dames less face sharpen’d   slowly round. Thou hadst no defences. Longing Court, the moon was round, renne aftermark of almost a quarter. Beauty in his   pedigree told of the fair hands had made   a kingly drink jeered at the excess of my sweet embracements when all found in pedigrees, by a black it is beckoned   to you, put out my bed. To save describe;   described; we all know long with motive; and amidst the furniture and running lord.

               15

But thy soul like Anarchy. The better   than all roses nobody, not even   by the merciful, and the Maids drew near, Then graceful guise; warriors by his magic sights, at such a genial soil seems the King   whets the cost would you like the fair Ellen   of brave Lochinvar. A lady on a winter’s ended in their clean as clear water spread our blacks were radiant air how could   curb it he had no fruits of sleeping, or   because all fit and the Jews, and such comforts me: a brute whose her head, ye roses over a potato, that neighbour caves,   and round her grand dinner has been confess   than to wax white—for blushes are slaves in distressing skil with redoubled: Ay me!

               16

Tender on this—the Lady of Shalott.   And whether aim—his heav’nly call, in terms   as course opens they cannot Grant as my great freethinker; and when the galleries so at larger was free: such frisks are woes   as deep as any mention’d to sententious,   where, all she prayers and goodly rooms; Of a new-fall’n snow takes no store and spiral- talk. Beside my palsy, or my sense   and pictures out of sin, and ripe-red cherries   and free quill, like figurative wisdom’s ways; also thereon I lie; these braue gleam’d; the Lady Adeline, you nearly   trod as heavy, dark, or sharply: Strike mine,   each breathless Sally Brown! Which fortune better near, or lion proud, adonis’ voice.

               17

Then you should be: his other kills thee behind,   to shelter the same a shadows, ’ said   Juan, and then was, as I have a secret of my youth rise fresher, bright skin years of youth, of lovers, agues pale cheeks assume   thy beams. The more increase are metamorphosis   in vain he list of prey, and your lost Estate. Like a lowly mounting Spirits gone: in vain for thought of Business fell   on Absalom, forsake him, to be drest,   but not her, whose mind, to shelter them in almost as fast and live not that space where I can’t tell why she beginning ghost, a   prologue which still I well couth he wayle   hys Woes, and water chilly of all thing at herself art made them make them with tears?

               18

This Arch-Attestor for himself to show?   Be duly disappointed dart of Eros:   but the war which they parted, each sting there. While his Soul another’s will, lay in fact, at time hath ceas’d his wrath fierce, about   the coasteth to a mortal frame, the Dog-   star heats their Peoples Hearts yearn after; the brother. Thoughts to me; nay, but ebbs like seraph’s wings and leaps, as the other, and their   hopes not very bell and when Ambition,   Avarice, bounteous of his aim; full of grief or wild, but more hotly, swelled the full soul, abhorring Kind. To that was a sin,   but also spake some though rarely know is,   that his eyes pay tribute take. And the lion he hath fed upon fresh in my bed.

               19

This said, that cedar-tops and arm, as, slighter   gleam’d; the furse: mercy vould be for my   birthright arise some by experience, and thou smil’st, fair a flowers of that any one good Husbandry. By rebel pachas,   and now Adonis smiles bespeak and   are as you turn backward: the way her Content ingloriously declare, lord H. To pay, unpaid, protest, whose Christian foot; and   Peals of Thunder shook the Field, salámán   rose drunk with these dinner and balcony, by garden where all clad alike; like Juanna a chaste is mated wide; the obsequious   laughter, because be of such, who   taught by lessons on outward parts ascends, no more than to wax white—for blush by day.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #127 texts #Meredith sonnet sequence

[a-crow-ready-for-a-murder]

Screw it, chapter 3

Here's chapter 3, I keep worrying if I've written the Canon characters well, please lmk if I didn't. Otherwise, enjoy!

It didn’t take her long to get to the Scarabia dorm but once she was at the door she stopped suddenly. How was she going to do this?

She couldn’t very well just hand Kalim the flowers then he’d wonder why Ruggie didn’t come, if she left them by the door someone else could pick them up. With a low hum she went over her options before deciding to just pull a blank paper out of her bag and use it as a card. With her neatest writing she wrote a simple note addressing the flowers to Kalim, but as she was about to write who they were from there came the sound of voices from around a nearby corner. Not wanting to be caught she scribbled a quick “from R” then shoved the card into the bouquet and dropped it before shapeshifting into her Blue Jay form and flying off as fast as her wings would carry her, never stopping until she was safely outside perched in a tree.

“I’m just saying, Jamil, our dorm has been doing really good this term and I think we should celebrate,” Kalim insisted to his less than impressed vice dorm leader and retainer as they rounded the corner leading to their dorm.

“Everything is a reason to celebrate in your eyes, you even threw a banquet because the birds were flying south for the winter” said Jamil whose voice was laced with exhaustion

“That was the fall, this is summer. Come on Jamil, don’t you think they deserve to celebrate for all their hard work?”

Jamil let out a heavy sigh as he looked into Kalim’s jewel colored eyes that almost seemed to be glowing with anticipation, then with a resigned roll of his own gray orbs he said “Fine, I suppose a small celebration is in order considering how much effort they put in.”

“Yes!” Kalim cheered as he punched the air

“But only if we keep it within reason. If I’m going to be doing all the work I need to make sure I have everything we need when the time comes and as it stands the notice is too short for anything extravagant.”

“You’ve got it! Thanks Jamil, you’re the best”

“Mhm”

They’d reached the door of Scarabia when a faint crunching sound made them pause. Looking down the two noticed an arrangement of red and white flowers wrapped neatly in a white plastic wrap and held together by a red ribbon twisted carefully into a puffy bow. Jamil crouched down slowly to pick it up, almost as if he expected there to be some sort of trap among the delicate petals. Wrapping his hand around the blanketed stems he rose back up examining the bouquet with suspicion. Kalim however was now fascinated and eagerly peered at the flowers. “Are those jasmines?” he asked

“Yes, mixed in with zinnias, not a common choice but a nice one, I’ll give it that.”

“Who’s it for?”

“Not sure, do you see a card?”

Kalim began to rifle through the flowers while Jamil tried to remember the significance of jasmine and zinnia

“Here it is!” Exclaimed Kalim with a look of triumph, much like a child who’d found the crayon he wanted to complete his picture.

“Alright, let’s see” said Jamil as Kalim opened the folded paper

“It says, To Kalim, from R….huh, wonder who that could be?”

“Well for starters, Kalim would be you.” Said Jamil with one of his cheeky smirks. Kalim let out a hearty laugh “I know that, silly, I meant R.” Jamil couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him, banter like this was becoming rather enjoyable between the two. “R is a tougher one, there are many people whose name starts with R, and if we narrow it down to people you spend time with, that's about….3 people outside of our dorm.”

“Why do you think it’s someone outside the dorm?” Kalim cocked his head to the side like a curious puppy, if Jamil hadn’t seen it over dozens of times he would have called it adorable.

“If it were someone inside the dorm, they would have left it in front of your room where it would be easy to tell who it’s for.”

“Oh….You’re right!”

“The intention is clearly romantic, between the color scheme and the flowers used it’s very personal so chances are the sender is attempting to court you.”

“Really? Then we should find out who it is!”

“Hmm, well if we go by the three i’ve mentioned, that’s Riddle, Ruggie and Rook. Now I think we can rule out Riddle since he’s not much for hiding his intent and there are no roses here. Rook would find this gesture romantic and Ruggie…. It’s hard to say for certain.”

“We should ask them!”

“I guess it couldn’t hurt to ask, right now, however, we have a feast to prepare for”

“Oh yeah, that’s right, let’s go!”

As they entered the dorm Jamil fell into a thoughtful silence. It didn’t take much observation to know that Kalim’s sunny demeanor could draw people in, it was one of his best traits, however it also tended to lead to people thinking him an easy target. Sadly he was naive enough for that to be the case and that often led to Jamil having to step in and protect him and while he hoped this time wouldn’t be the case and the senders feelings were genuine, deep down he worried that he’d have to protect Kalim again but this time from a cruel heartbreak.

Even as Kalim walked alongside Jamil he barely noticed his concerns. Someone had left him flowers and if Jamil was right, they wanted to ask him out. He was definitely flattered and even grateful that someone took the time to make such a gesture and if he was being honest with himself he knew exactly who he hoped it would be.

#twisted wonderland fanfic #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland ruggie #twisted wonderland kalim #twst ruggie #ruggie bucchi #kalim al asim #twst kalim #canon x canon #ocs #jamil viper #twisted wonderland jamil #disney twst #twst jamil

[dknuth]

Bukhara  

We started in the morning with a stop to a puppet maker / performer.  They make quite a variety of puppets and he’s very talented with them  

He demonstrated his ability to move them.  

Then he commented that he’s always got a puppet that resembles someone  in every group; this time that was me!   

Everyone seemed to see the resemblance, except they thought the puppet was smiling more.   I noted the puppet’s companions in the display and that maybe he had a lot to smile about.

Then off to a statue of a famous character in the area.  He’s very popular, as can be seen by the shiny spots on the statue.  

Our bus picket us up and took us to the edge of town to the last Emir’s summer palace.  He had studied in Russia and was fond of Russian architecture, so his palace was a mix of local an Russian design.  

Then back into the old town parks where went to a small amusement park to ride the ferris wheel.  That may seem like a strange thing to do, but it only costs a dollar and it offers a great overview of the town.

Nearby was the Samanid Mausoleum; a small plain brick structure from the 9th Century. Belonging to the founder of the Samanid Dynasty, Emir Ismail, and many of his descendants.  It is very different from the massive mausoleums that came later: no colored tiles, or huge fronts.  The brickwork is very nicely detailed, and it has required little restoration in its thousand years.  Perhaps because he was well loved by his people, or simply that the design and the simple bricks had better endurance than the tiles and mass of the laters.

Nearby is Chasma-Ayub, a place with a pure spring associated with the biblical prophet Job, known in Islam as Ayub.  The association with Job, seems a little weak, but the building is used in large part to educate people of the history of water usage in Bukhara, the drying of the Aral Sea and the need for water conversation.  

Next was the local Bazaar.  Really not much different than the bazaars we’ve seen in other places.  It was an opportunity to purchase some nuts and dried fruits for the upcoming long drive to Khiva.  I also noticed the small winter squash coming into season.  They are clearly relatives of the butternut squash we have at home, but in a wider variety of colors, sizes, and shapes.  That makes me suspect that these are the original ancestors of our butternut squash.

The local fortress is called the Ark, the creation of the Ark dates at least to the end of the 1st Millennium, although the current remains are much later. It was largely destroyed by Soviet bombings in the 1920’s.   There has been a lot of restoration done, and it appears to be very good.  

There was one section of older wall still standing and there are photographs from the late 1800’s so it’s easy to see what the outer walls at least looked like.  

Inside the Ark there are some old structures remaining: a mosque, a reception space for the Emir, and a small museum.

Across the road there is a metal tower with an observation deck, a ground level restaurant and a small banquet room near the top.  It turns out that this attractive tower was actually the base of an old water tower.  An excellent example of adaptive reuse!

We ate lunch in the restaurant in the base and then headed across a small park to a mosque.  We could not go in, but the porch on the front was very attractive.  

Under the porch was a gentleman selling small original watercolors.  We had seen a number of shops selling very touristy watercolors that I could not develop a taste for, but these were very natural and I ended up with a couple.  (Don’t tell my sister, Barbara, but one of them will be for her.)

Our next stop was back to the Kalyan Mosque next to the minaret we visited the night before and the Miri-Arab Madrasa across the plaza.  The mosque had the usual large gate and then opened into a large open plaza surrounded by wide galleries.    

The right-hand side galleries are still used for prayer but the left side is open.

At the head of the plaza the large dome on a tall drum covers a fairly small, plain space.  The floor of this space was being demolished, so we couldn’t enter, but it was clear that it was too plain to be interesting anyway.  

At one side there was an archway with a good view of the courtyard, the Kalyan minaret and the arch of the madrasa.  

The Miri-Arab Madrasa is still an active madrasa with 200 students, so we could only go into the entryway and look into the courtyard through the screen.

Then it was traditional craft shopping time.  The first stop was a rug maker.  We got a discussion and exposition of the different rug materials, from the least to most expensive: cotton/wool, wool, camel back hair, camel neck hair, to silk. The density and type of the knots was also discussed.  A carpet about 4’ by 6’ ran from a few hundred dollar to over ten thousand for the finest silk.  By seeing the various types side by side it was really possible to understand the quality.  The top quality silk rugs were really beautiful.  But we have no place in the apartment for one, and we have cats.  There is no way I would put a silk rug on the floor for them to sharpen their claws on, or barf on.  (And they would do both!)  So thousands of dollars saved!!! 

A last stop a the shop of a miniaturist.  But his were mostly of the cartoon tourist variety, so I was very happy with my earlier purchase.  

In the evening there was a group dinner in a former madrasa courtyard.  The folk dancing, was highly choreographed and clearly not what people would be dancing at a wedding, for instance.  There was a “fashion show” that was supremely un interesting, the music was too loud and other than the soup, the food was mediocre.  There wasn’t really anything worth taking a photo of.

#Bukhara #Uzbekistan #The Ark

[dyns33]

Mabon

Flufftober 23 - Geralt x Reader 

Geralt hated politics. He hated crowds. He hated magic. He hated being hired as a bodyguard when his job was to kill monsters.

But he hadn't been able to say no to Yennefer. No one could say no to Yennefer.

So that was how he found himself keeping the mages and witches safe, a bunch of treacherous and annoying politicians, as they gathered in the woods to celebrate one of their stupid Sabbaths.

           "Mabon is not stupid." hissed Yennefer. “Yes, it's a Minor Sabbath, but it's as important as the others. It's the Autumn Equinox. We are going to connect with the earth, thank it for the magic it offers us and make sure to have a prosperous winter. Everything must be perfect for that, so open your cat eyes."

           "Hmm."

           "You can eat a bit, the banquet is for everyone. But the dances and songs are sacred. Don't join in, and tell your little pets to do the same. Or else !"

           "Hmm..."

Geralt knew he should have kicked Jaskier or used Axii to force him to stay at the inn that night. As soon as he heard about the party, the bard had wanted to come.

At least he had left his struggle in his room. It had not been easy to make him understand that his talents as musicians were neither necessary nor in demand.

           "I'm a little pissed off, Geralt, but that's okay. I'm going to attend a Sabbath ! Oh, all the stories and songs I'm going to be able to write !"

           "Don't sleep with anyone."

           "I don't promise you anything, Master Witcher."

           "Don't sleep with anyone." Geralt repeated, growling.

At least with Y/N he knew he didn't have that much to worry about. The young woman was intelligent. Not enough to decide not to come, she was also a little curious to see what a meeting of mages was all about, but still enough to sit silently next to him, while he watched the crowd, ready to intervene if necessary.

He was also looking at Jaskier, who had sworn not to dance, but was going to stuff himself and still talk to several witches whenever he had the chance.

           "If he starts to waddle his ass, I'll send him waltzing with Aard." Geralt muttered.

           "What ?"

           "Nothing."

           "It's not quite as I imagined." Y/N commented.

Sabbaths were never as humans imagined.

There were no sacrifices, no orgies, no demonic cries. That was during normal holidays.

For the rituals, everything was very regulated, like a choreography, and even if they still took a little pleasure in eating, drinking, and dancing, mages did this mainly because it was a duty and an obligation.

           "Why do they need a witcher ?" Y/N asked, approaching him. "I mean, they have powers, they can defend themselves."

           "Hmm. It's a special night. Normally they are not allowed to use magic, since they are supposed to thank the elements for this gift. Their dancing and chanting sometimes attracts stray spirits or demons, so I'm here to push them away. But that's rare. Most of the time, the problem is mostly the curious ones"

           "The curious ones ?"

           "Humans."

This was how the legends about the Sabbaths were born. Passers-by, idiots or assholes had surprised these sacred festivals. Most of the time, they didn't dare approach, they would run away, and they would tell nonsense about what they had seen, or thought they had seen.

But it happened that some were more reckless, that they came to interrupt the ceremony, threatening to burn everyone. Even without magic, the guests could very well get rid of them, but all it took was several intruders, armed and crazy enough to stay, and the situation could escalate.

This was where Geralt came in.

           "Most of the time I don't even have to get up. I just pull out my sword and they go."

           "But I thought you weren't allowed to kill humans." wondered the young girl, who was beginning to know the code of witchers well.

           "It's true, but I scare them anyway."

There was something in Y/N's gaze that Geralt didn't immediately recognize. Then she put her hand on his, moving closer to him.

           "You do not scare me."

           "Hmm."

           "Thank you for allowing me to come. Here, and with you on the Path."

           "... Hmm."

Y/N smiled. She also started to know what he meant with his growls, without him needing to speak. This really relieved Geralt, who was not good at speaking.

From a distance, Dandelion and Yennefer were watching them, smiling too, wondering when these two idiots would stop dancing around each other.

#flufftober #flufftober 2021 #geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt imagine #geralt fanfic #geralt x reader

[iamthemain-character]

Could I get a Merlin x reader but make it a masquerade ball. Kinda like where Merlin and the reader are servants and aren’t invited but since it’s a masquerade the reader decides to sneak in with him disguised. They end up being the like center of attention the entire night. The next day Arthur is just like “who were those two” and merlin just kinda chuckles to himself. I hope this is an okay request! Thanks!

hello, and thank you for requesting! i hope this is to your liking, and enjoy! :)

The Magic of Midnight

bbc merlin x reader

gender neutral pronouns

TW: none

requested by @mythandmagik

highly recommend listening to “Merry-go-round of Life” from Howl’s Moving Castle while reading this.

It was finally time for the annual Camelot Celebrations, a time of music, food, and fun for all in the kingdom. It took place a little after the harvest had been brought in by the farmers, and it was a way of brightening up the winter days to come. For a week the market square was full of color and flurry of activity, and for those who resided in the Castle it meant hoards of nobles would come and reside. Many friends of King Arthur and his new Queen Guinevere were invited, and for the servants, their work nearly doubled.

And this is why Merlin and Y/n found themselves cleaning up in the banquet hall as the masquerade ball started up. As the last night of the celebratory week, it was the crowning jewel. For those who did not reside in the castle, they would be having their own personal feasts with friends and family, and small groups would gather around bonfires to sing and dance. But for the servants inside the castle, some were lucky enough to be serving inside the ballroom, whereas others spent the night tidying and readying everything for when their guests retired late into the night.

Carefully Y/n added another plate to the already comically tall stack Merlin carried. He grimaced as he tried to steady them, and then carefully walked behind his friend as they cleared off more utensils from the table.

“It’s not fair you know, that everyone gets to go enjoy the party except for us.”

“Merlin, you know we volunteered to stay behind and clean. We were some of the few to not have family or friends to go to. If it weren’t for us, they might’ve missed their special night.”

“I know I know, I’m just tired of picking up after these royal pains.”

Y/n elbowed Merlin in the side as they walked past him. “Hey, careful. Some of those ‘royal pains’ are your friends.”

“And so my statement still stands.”

Both of the servants laughed as they set the last of their dishes on their cart and headed towards the kitchens. The long process of washing awaited them, but as they passed by the ballroom doors, the sounds of laughter and music called to them. Both Merlin and Y/n seemed to have the same idea, so they carefully and quietly snuck into the room.

The sight that greeted them took their breath away. Both Merlin and Y/n had assisted in decorating the ballroom, but to actually see it alive with people was incredible. Light filled every corner of the room, and everywhere you looked there was color and people and beautiful decor. The scent of sweet desserts wafted through the air and the music from the players filled everyone’s ears. It seemed almost magical, enchanting Merlin and Y/n.

Soon enough, they managed to drag themselves back out into the hallway before they got caught. The darkened hallway seemed extra cold and lonely compared to the ballroom, and the spirits they felt in there left them.

“Ugh Y/n, couldn’t you just imagine it? We could be in there, having fun, but instead we’re out here with stinky sticky dishes.”

“I know Merl, but even if we were invited, we wouldn’t have anything to wear. We don’t even have masks!”

Suddenly Merlin turned around, a great big smile lighting up his face. He pushed the cart into an alcove to hide it, and suddenly Y/n felt their hand grabbed by their friend’s as they were tugged along down the hallway.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

After a while, the pair arrived at what Y/n knew to be Arthur and Gwen’s chambers. “Okay, what are we doing here?”

Merlin opened the door and ran to the corner of the room, where he pulled out a large wooden chest and opened the lid. “The tailor made lots of outfits for Arthur and Gwen to choose from for tonight, not just one. These are all the extras they sent. We can take some of these and wear them tonight! They even have matching masks!”

Y/n slowly backed away from their friend. “No, Merlin, this is crazy. We have work to do okay, we don’t have time for this.”

“After the party is over we can just do our work while everyone is asleep. Come on, it’ll be fun! Please Y/n?”

For a moment Y/n just looked from Merlin to the mask in his hand, and then back to the door. Finally they took a deep breathe and knelt beside the chest. “Fine, but I better look glorious.”

———————————————————————

Merlin and Y/n did look glorious; the costumes they chose complimented them perfectly, and with a few adjustments they also fit. After a few final mask adjustments, Merlin took Y/n’s hand and entered the ballroom. No one really batted an eye at the newcomers, after all they looked like the belonged there, and so the pair was able to slip through the crowd easily. And so the magic began.

All throughout the night, Merlin and Y/n enjoyed this new side to life. They ate many delicious desserts and swayed along to the music. On occasion some royals would come to chat, and Merlin made it difficult for Y/n not to laugh as he teased them in a way that they couldn’t notice. The pair stayed by each other’s sides the entire night, laughing and reveling in the magic.

As the festivities started to wind down, it came time for The Last Waltz. As the first strains of music started, Arthur took Gwen’s hand and led her out into the middle of the floor. Slowly, they started the waltz, spinning around and around to the music. After they initiated the waltz, everyone else filled in and danced around them.

Merlin turned and offered his hand to Y/n, offering a very genuine smile. “May I have this dance?”

Y/n swore they felt their heart skip a beat, but the placed their hand within his. Merlin led them out onto the dance floor, and they placed their hands as everyone else was. Feeling a bit bold, however, Merlin slipped his hand from Y/n’s waist to their back and pulled them flush to his chest. So very close to each other, the pair could make out every single detail on the other’s face and mask. Butterflies filled Y/n’s stomach, and Merlin felt like he was walking on Cloud 9. Slowly and carefully they started their waltz, but as the music progressed they danced more and more boldly.

Both Merlin and Y/n became engrossed with each other and got lost in the dance, losing all sense of time and space. This didn’t go unnoticed by the other guests, and suddenly the mysterious pair became the center of attention. Their movements were so beautiful, so in sync, that everyone found themselves bewitched watching them. As the final notes played, Merlin twirled Y/n around and around before finally stopping them and dipping them.

Their noses almost touching, the both just looked into each other’s eyes. Their hearts racing, they only cared for each other, so many unspoken words waiting to pass their lips. The moment was broken, however, as the crowd started to clap. Straightening back up, Merlin and Y/n saw that they were the center of attention.

Leaning down and whispering into their ear, Merlin asked, “What do we do?”

Smiling and waving, Y/n replied through their teeth. “Run.”

And with that, hand in hand the pair ran off. The ran straight through the doors and out into the castle. Laughter burst out of them as they fled, and finally Merlin pulled them into the section of the castle that he and Gaius resided in. Before they went in the door, however, he stopped and ripped off his mask.

Pushing their’s off, Y/n started to ask why they stopped, but the words never passed their lips. Merlin had cupped their face in his hands and kissed them passionately, all the pent up feelings and tension from the dance going into it. Y/n reciprocated, for they felt the same about Merlin. This might wouldn’t have been as special without him, and for the longest time they had been madly in love with the young man.

As the couple parted, Merlin leaned his forehead against Y/n’s. A soft laugh escaped both of them, and for that moment, their magical night lived on.

——————————————————————-

Merlin and Y/n did stay up late to finish their chores, and they had only just collapsed on the staircase leading up to Merlin’s room before they heard Gaius getting up and calling to Merlin to get ready for the day.

After they bid farewell to the nobles, it became a difficult task to stay awake while they served lunch to Arthur and Gwen. Both Merlin and Y/n became invested when the royal couple started talking about the ball.

“I think it was a great success my dear.”

“Yes Guinevere, I think you’re quite right. Everyone said they enjoyed it.”

“Did you ever find out who that mysterious couple was?”

Merlin knocked over a cup at this, and both he and Y/n rushed to clean it up.

“Do be careful Merlin!” Shaking his head, Arthur turned his attention back to his wife. “No, no one had those costumes or masks. Nobody even got a name from them, instead saying they just, appeared and disappeared. They were a marvelous couple though, a pity they got away before we could make their acquaintance.”

“Oh they were just beautiful Arthur, I have never seen such dancing all my life. They seemed so magical, I could’ve watched them all night. It’s such a shame we shall never know who they were.”

Both Y/n and Merlin shared a glance and smiled. The secret of the mysterious masqueraders would remain with them, and the magic of the night would be theirs to keep forever.

#bbc merlin #merlin #merlin x reader #gender nuetral reader #masquerade #merlin x you

[julek]

my kingdom for a kiss (upon your shoulder)

read on ao3 | rated T | 6.2K | no warnings | for @asweetprologue <3

The sun shines soft in Toussaint.

Geralt can’t remember whether it’s always been like that — if the golden tint that falls over the city as gently as wind-blown petals is genuine or just a product of his imagination. Spring isn’t in full bloom yet, timid flowers peeking at him from the side of the road, proud birds carrying twigs and feathers to their newly-made nests, the tree branches still cold after the last snow.

They’re not far from the main square, their pace steady and unhurried since they set out to Beauclair in the morning. The midday commotion fills Geralt’s senses, spices and bread and frantic conversations making him shake his head in discomfort — busy cities always take a while to grow used to; thankfully, he never stays long.

Next to him, Jaskier sneezes.

“This weather, I tell you—” he starts, but gets immediately cut off by another dainty, kitten-like sneeze. He wipes his nose on his sleeve, then makes a face at it. “Be the death of me.”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “It’ll take more than pollen to take you, I fear.”

“It doesn’t stand a chance against me,” he says, and strikes a pose, like one of the heroes in the silly novels he insists on buying, but the puffy eyes and red nose dampens it a bit. He doesn’t seem deterred, though. “Besides, I wouldn’t let pollen, of all things, keep me from performing at tonight’s ball.”

Geralt hums, flicking a fly off Roach’s mane. They were in Spalla when Jaskier was approached by a passing servant and asked to partake in some baron Geralt couldn’t care enough to retain the name of’s early spring ball — naturally, Jaskier had jumped at the invitation, eager to be among the distinguished crowds that frequent such events, even more so after a long winter tucked away at Oxenfurt.

“By the way,” Jaskier says, picking an inexistent piece of lint off his doublet, aiming for casual even though he knows Geralt can hear the curious lilt to his voice, “will you be attending tonight?”

“I might not make it in time,” he says truthfully. He rubs his thumb over the contract he’s holding in his free hand, the sharp edges digging into his skin. “I will hunt this afternoon.”

Jaskier nods. “Well,” he says, his voice soft as he bumps his shoulder against Geralt’s. “You’re welcome there. I’ll vouch for you, you know.”

Geralt smiles at him solemnly — then bumps him back, laughing when the bard accidentally crashes into an old woman perusing the wares of a silver-tongued merchant.

“Geralt!” Jaskier says indignantly, smoothing out his doublet and shooting the woman a sideways glance that’s more annoyed than apologetic. “You can’t just push people.”

“Apologies,” Geralt says, not sounding sorry at all. “My balance seems to be off, lately. You know how it is.”

“With your old age, yes,” Jaskier says and pats his arm sympathetically. “I fear you’re showing signs of decay already.”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, yes.” Jaskier takes his arm and loops it through his, a steadying hand at his back. “Your gait is off— look, even Roach looks concerned for your wellbeing.”

Roach looks unfazed.

“And all the lines on your face!” Jaskier gasps in mock-horror. “My, Geralt, we should take you to a healer. Perhaps you’ve been cursed— There! Those dreadful frown lines you sport, old friend… Have you considered retirement? I hear there are great Witcher-friendly settlements in this area, and— hey!”

Geralt smirks as Jaskier rubs the side of his head where Geralt’s innocent and weary hand slapped it. He can see the worn-down sign of the inn he favors when they’re in the city a few steps ahead, can already taste the fresh ale on his mouth.

“Whoops,” he says, trying to school his features into something that isn’t a smug smile. “Seems I’m losing control of my limbs, too.”

+

The Rose and Thorn is as it has ever been. Clean wooden floorboards that creak as they walk in, the blossoming vine hanging over the kitchen door, the innkeeper’s old dog napping in a spot of sunlight pouring in through the window.

It’s good.

Geralt likes routine. He thrives on it. He likes familiar faces and comforting smells and the sound of pans and pots banging together as the cook murmurs a string of expletives that would be considered indecorous on a lady’s mouth. He likes knowing where he stands, likes the well-loved booths and the tankards that are cracked around the edges, the face of an unruly lion faded on the ceramic. He’s pleased with the way the innkeeper’s eyes crinkle with recognition as she nods at him and Jaskier, as she wordlessly takes his coin and points her head in direction of the room he always takes.

They move upstairs, Jaskier’s lutecase hitting the narrow walls as Geralt pushes the door open. The room is simple — two beds and a small table under the tall window, light pouring in through the thin linen curtains. He sets his bag on one of the beds — the closest to the door — and puts his sheathed swords next to it before allowing himself a moment to sit and wind down.

“I’d say lunch is in order, don’t you think?” Jaskier says after a while, even though his words are muffled by the pillow he’d thrown himself face-down onto and he doesn’t seem to be moving any time soon. “I’m aching for something other than apples and jerky, if I’m honest.”

Geralt’s stomach rumbles in agreement. “Too coarse for your fine palate, bard?” He teases.

“Never,” Jaskier says, lifting an accusatory finger at where he supposes Geralt is sitting. Then, because it isn’t as dramatic as it should’ve been, he rolls over, facing Geralt, his hair sticking up at odd places and his face flushed a pretty shade of pink. “I’m well used to all kinds of provisions, but the soul wishes for something a little bit more substantial every once in a while.”

“Hmm,” Geralt concedes. He laces up his left boot tighter than the right one and stands. “Let’s go, then, man of substance.”

Jaskier grins up at him, bright and easy, and leaps out of the bed so fast the wind gets knocked out of him.

Downstairs at the bar, there are steaming bowls of pottage being sent to the patrons that are starting to overflow the room, bread and cheese abundant at every table. It must have been a fruitful winter, Geralt reasons as he nods to the barmaid and gestures to the plates.

“Ale as well, Sir Witcher?” She says as she wipes her forehead, no trace of fear in her voice. She’s probably too busy for it.

“Two, please.”

He makes his way to the table where Jaskier’s already tearing a loaf of bread in two, tapping a rhythm with his fingers on the hard wood as he looks out the window at the passersby. There’s a neatly-made arrangement of wildflowers on the wall by his side, larkspur and thistle with a touch of baby’s breath, Geralt thinks.

“Here,” he says, passing the half-full tankard over to Jaskier and taking a sip of his own.

Jaskier hands him a piece of bread. “So, what are we slaying today?”

“The only thing you’ll be slaying today is your audience’s eardrums,” Geralt says, smirking at Jaskier’s huff of indignation. He takes a bite out of the bread. “There seems to be an archespore around the vineyards.”

“An— the—” Jaskier’s face does a complicated thing and Geralt wants to point out that he looks like a gaping trout before he says, “An archespore?! This mythical— magical— never before seen creature—”

“It’s been seen plenty of times,” Geralt points out.

“Not by me!” Jaskier thumps his fist on the table, defeated, and his ale sloshes dangerously. He wipes a hand down his face. “Ugh. And I can’t even fight you on it, because I’ve got, uh, what do they call it— Geralt, help me out here, what’s the word—”

“A compromise.”

Jaskier gags. “Yes. That. I shall honor my, uh, compromise to the arts and leave you alone and defenseless before such a legendary creature. Naught but two swords and the strength of” —he looks Geralt up and down appreciatively— “roughly twelve men built like bulls to keep yourself out of harm’s way.”

Geralt lifts his eyebrows, unimpressed, and leans back on his seat as a barmaid approaches them with a bowl in each hand. “Thank you,” he tells her, and digs in.

The stew is pleasantly hot and thick with spices and vegetables, the potatoes sweet and the meat tender, and he lets a pleased rumble escape his chest.

He doesn’t get to indulge in good meals very often — when he gets the opportunity to sit down at a proper table and have a proper plate placed in front of him, the food is usually sizable and filling, but never particularly appetizing. It’s mostly overcooked, tough meat — if he can afford it — and out-of-season vegetables that remind him of dried-out fields rather than a lavish banquet.

Jaskier is used to them, though. Or was — right before he was hit on the head with a chunk of stale bread and had the brilliant idea to trail after a Witcher, to trade comfortable beds and roasted pheasants for a hard bedroll spread on the forest floor and charred squirrel, at best. It still intrigues Geralt, watching Jaskier roll up his sleeves and dig into the pottage like it’s the finest meal he’s ever tasted, like it doesn’t pale in comparison to what he’ll be served tonight. Like he doesn’t see it — the immensity of the gap between Geralt’s world and his own.

There are moments of hesitation — moments when Geralt thinks Jaskier will wake up. When he thinks the bard will look around and shake his head in astonished confusion, and his blue eyes will widen comically like they do when he’s caught slipping treats to Roach, and he’ll see through the desperately-sewn seams of Geralt’s life. He’ll see that behind the so-called heroics and martyrdom there’s nothing more than a Witcher and a horse and a lonely road ahead.

But then, just when Geralt’s doubts start to creep into his hairline and show on his face, Jaskier will prove him wrong. Like now, as Jaskier lets his spoon fall into his empty bowl and leans back on his seat, sighing happily, nothing but contentment and warmth on his scent. As he watches through the window again, with a smile that dimples his cheek and sunlight crinkling his eyes.

Geralt feels something touch his leg. When he looks down, the innkeeper’s dog is resting his chin on Geralt’s thigh, his eyes big and pleading.

He picks up a hard bit of bread Jaskier had set aside earlier and carefully brings it up to the dog’s nose for inspection. After a few curious sniffs, the dog gently takes it out of Geralt’s hand, tail wagging excitedly. His fur is soft where Geralt smoothes it out with the flat of his palm, softer than Roach’s mane.

When he looks up, Jaskier’s eyes have abandoned the window, and he’s watching the two of them with a smile that’s half fond, half soft. Too tender.

Geralt’s never been looked at like that. With care. Like he’s something precious, something to be treasured.

It feels inadequate, and he pats the dog’s head to hide the almost imperceptible tremble of his hand. Jaskier’s smile reaches his eyes, and doesn’t waver.

It’s good.

+

The soft breeze wafting through the window as Geralt straps his swords to his back is tempting.

Jaskier yawns.

“You sure you don’t wanna get a nap in before you,” he yawns again, “go?”

He’s sprawled on his bed in a position that just can’t be comfortable, limbs long and bent at weird angles, pants unbuttoned and doublet resting on the back of a chair. His hair is ruffled and his cheeks are pink from the meal and the impending sleep that will follow.

“I’ve read, somewhere,” he continues, forcefully wrestling with the blankets that are firmly tucked into the bed, “ah, that napping increases, um— aha!” He wiggles under the covers. “It increases your strength, sharpens your” — a yawn — “mind, and whatnot.”

“Hmm.” Geralt adjusts his potion belt. “And how’s that worked out for you?”

Jaskier squints at him, managing to stay awake just to be annoyed. “See? You just continue proving my point! That,” he says, gesturing vaguely at Geralt with a half-covered hand, “would easily be fixed with one tiny nap!”

“Your naps are never tiny.”

“Well, no, because as a bard, I require more energy than a Witcher. Besides,” he says, closing his eyes, “I never seem to get enough sleep, you see, since I keep getting assaulted by this beast of a man who thinks dawn is already late.”

Geralt snorts and walks over to his bed. “Should put a contract out, then. A Witcher may come across it.”

Jaskier turns around, facing Geralt. “Oh, no, thank you. One Witcher is enough for me.” Geralt can hear the smile in his voice, though.

Checking he’s got everything he needs, and closing the open windows for good measure, Geralt turns to Jaskier. “I’m going. Stay here.”

This time, it’s Jaskier who has to snort. “Napping, remember?”

Geralt hums. “Don’t sleep through your performance,” he says, closing the door behind him, and the sounds of Jaskier tossing and turning while making indignant sounds makes him smirk.

The walk to the vineyard doesn’t take long. He passes the district alderman’s house on his way over, discusses the payment and whatever information he has to offer about the vineyard itself and the archespore sightings. The man’s face goes white when Geralt asks about any late violent crime.

The sun is still high in the sky when he gets to the heart of the vineyard, the earth uneven and freshly dug up. The victims’ bodies aren’t there anymore, he knows, but the archespore can’t be too far away from him. He draws out his sword and walks deeper into the field, watching the ripe grapevine sway with the wind.

There’s a vine in particular that calls his attention, thinner and bare, no grapes clinging to it. Just as he gets closer to it, it disappears under the ground. Geralt crouches and backs away, waiting to see it come back up — except when it does, it’s not just a lonely vine anymore.

The archespore stands tall and imposing, growling at Geralt as he signs Igni at it and aims for its trunk — he only gets one good blow before it buries itself under the earth. He waits again, looking for the green-brown color, and it shoots back up with renewed force, surrounding Geralt with acid-filled pods.

He casts a quick Quen and gets closer to it, choosing Aard this time as Igni causes it to relocate, and seizes the way it trembles minutely to get behind it and run his sword through its flesh. The creature growls, its jaw-shaped leaves curling around Geralt’s limbs. He struggles and manages to cast Igni at it, freeing himself as the plant relocates itself. When it sprouts back up, one of its pods blows up next to him, making him fall to the ground as the creature towers over him, its screeches deafening.

The archespore opens its forked mouth and screeches louder this time, acid shooting through its pores before Geralt can shield himself. The acid burns his skin where it reaches it, but the creature seems satisfied enough that it misses the opportunity to pin him to the ground. He reaches for his sword and lunges, casting Aard and tearing its leaves and damaging its thick stem.

This time, when it goes underground, Geralt has a feral smile on his face as he takes his Golden Oriole and upends it in his mouth. The venom stops burning for a second, and, when the archespore comes back up, its tendrils reaching for Geralt, he ducks and rolls, positioning himself behind it. The archespore screeches one final time as Geralt runs his sword from its head down to its core before it collapses to the ground, lifeless body still twitching. Geralt throws the severed head far enough that it won’t be able to reattach itself and slices up the remaining pods, their venom oozing sluggishly onto the torn-up ground.

He makes his way back to the city, the head of the archespore dripping slightly from its bag. The sun is setting, painting the walls golden against the pink sky, the shadows cast over the buildings helping the buzzing in his brain. He takes the less-traveled roads to avoid the commotion of the streets, but it seems the city is already mellowed out.

He thinks of Jaskier.

The first star of the night is twinkling against the pink-blue sky, the moon translucent. The baron’s residence is distant, surrounded by a stretch of the city’s walls, but Geralt imagines it’s close, close enough that Jaskier’s voice can carry through the night — that his soft melodies can reach them all.

He thinks of Jaskier, dressed up in his finest clothes that he had especially tailored — because I’ve filled out in the winter, Geralt! — drinking sweet wine from the vineyard he’s just left behind, mingling with the nobles and regaling them with honeyed tales of the Witcher’s heroism. The Witcher who is currently covered in muck and sticky with dried acid, carrying a severed head across the streets of Beauclair.

But Jaskier would disagree. He’d see a knight in shining armor, coming home triumphant after saving a family’s livelihood, the scars of the ferocious battle showing on his face. A defeated beast and a courageous warrior. A tale worth telling.

After dispatching the head and collecting his coin — what they’d agreed on, thankfully — Geralt heads back to the inn. The humming in his veins has simmered down, leaving behind a hint of exhaustion that clings to his bones and makes itself known. He calls for a bath, ignoring the innkeeper’s knowing look — she’s seen him trudge inside wearing worse.

Once he’s in his room, he takes his time unbuckling and sets his armor aside, a filthy pile that he’ll have to tend to eventually. After, he thinks, and sinks into the steaming tub. The room’s windows are open despite him closing them before leaving, tacit proof of Jaskier’s aversion for closed spaces and feeling oppressed, Witcher, and his distinct lack of self-preservation. Geralt’s chastised him enough about being easy prey, but there’s something in the way the bard moves that makes him want to protect, rather than prevent — he’d rather be the one to free Jaskier from his cage than be the one to lock him there in the first place. Not that Jaskier would ever let himself be locked away — he’s feisty enough on his own — but something about him screams freedom.

Geralt can’t take it away — wouldn’t ever want to. So he lets the cool air enter the room.

His bed is neatly made, pillows fluffed and sheets crisp. Next to it is Jaskier’s — somehow, pillows are on the floor and the sheets are turned inside out, twisted like a serpent around the blanket. His side of the room looks like it’s been a victim of a cruel whirlwind — clothes and accessories are strung about the room, picked up only to be frowned at and then put back down.

It’s tempting enough; to crawl under the covers and blow out the candles and get a half-decent night of sleep. Maybe get something to eat from the bar downstairs. Maybe drink some ale. But—

I’ll vouch for you, you know.

He knows.

+

It’s a beautiful night, in truth.

The ball is being hosted in the halfmoon-shaped garden, the cool spring breeze dancing around the guests as they dance themselves, carried away. Moonlight and candlelight alike wash over the cobblestone, a few delicate and intricate paper lanterns placed over a wooden railing casting gentle shadows on the whole scene. There are flowers all around — on tall vases in every corner and on the small centerpieces at every table, on the open hand of every statue and weaved into delicate crowns for everyone to wear.

It isn’t like anything Geralt’s seen before. He’s been to many balls — begrudgingly — but never one in which everyone carries themselves so freely, where raucous laughter is allowed if not mandatory, where not one person sits alone at their table, instead gathered around savoring the food, where there are chairs but no one sitting on them because they’re so busy prancing around the yard, marveling at the flowers and the outfits and the beauty of the night. Where everyone seems to be there because they want to be — because they belong.

He’s standing by a pillar, not hidden but not in plain sight, either. He tightens his jacket around himself, half to fend off the chill of the night air and half to hide the stain on the chemise underneath — a dangerous encounter with a drunk Jaskier and a goblet of wine. His leather band is on his wrist tonight, his silver hair tickling the spot behind his ear and catching on the high collar of his shirt. People are still coming in through the garden gates, the path to the grounds lit by small candles by each side of it, couples strolling hand-in-hand across the grounds and children running around, their flower crowns hanging off their heads.

There’s no music yet, just conversation carrying the night away. He can hear Jaskier’s heartbeat somewhere in the gardens, but hasn’t seen him yet — perhaps he’s encountered one of his old dalliances and is catching up, as he’s often done before.

Geralt moves to the balcony with the stone railing, the one looking out to the lake. The waves are calm tonight, gently rippling back and forth, shimmering under the stars. He leans his elbows on the railing, feeling very small as he looks down.

Heights used to scare him when he was a child. It’s one of the only things he can remember. His house sat on a small hill, and every night, after his mother went to sleep, he would tiptoe across the kitchen and open the window, and he would look down and feel terror beat inside his chest, gripping his heart like a vine.

Now, as he looks down, he can see the scrape of the stones jutting out of the earth, the clear beach beneath him. He can see the boats resting on the shore and the stars reflecting on the water. Looking down, he just feels at ease.

The sound of children protesting catches his attention. When he looks back to the courtyard, he can see two small children — siblings, he presumes — looking at their mother with very exaggerated frowns on their tiny faces.

“You mustn’t use your sister’s dress as a cleaning rag, Petyr,” she says to the boy as she tries to wipe down the girl’s gown.

“But the floors here needed cleaning!” Petyr responds, petulant. “You told us things should be squeaky-clean.”

His mother is about to reply when suddenly a voice cuts in. “And your mother is right, of course,” says Jaskier, winking at her and meeting her smile of relief with one of his own. “But this is a party! You’re meant to have fun, you and your sister! Don’t you like to dance?”

Petyr and his sister shake their heads. “We don’t know how to,” she admits.

Jaskier’s grin is wide. “Well, then you must be born singers!” At that, the girl smiles.

“Mama says our singing sounds more like a dying wyvern’s last breath,” she says simply, and it makes Jaskier laugh, “but we like to sing anyway.”

“And you should! Singing is the way our soul gets to have a laugh,” he says knowingly, and slowly takes his lute out of his case. “I don’t suppose you know what this is?”

The children’s eyes light up. “A lute!”

Jaskier laughs. “That’s right!” He holds it out to them. “Here, try a strum.”

The children look at each other, then at the lute like it’s something precious. Geralt knows it is. “You go first, Fiona,” the boy whispers to his sister.

Fiona approaches the lute carefully, and holds out her little hand. Jaskier takes it on his own, then gently, very gently, he runs her hand through the strings. It’s a simple chord, and Jaskier’s holding the note, but Fiona looks blown away. “Wow,” she whispers. “It’s so… pretty.”

Geralt can see the way Jaskier’s mouth quirks up and his eyes go soft at the corners. It tugs at his heartstrings.

“Now,” Jaskier says, “Do you want to try, Petyr?”

The boy nods, coming forward. He knows what to do, having watched his sister, so he simply lifts his hand and strums. Jaskier’s changed the chord, a lower one now.

“Wonderful!” Jaskier exclaims, and applauds the both of them, making their cheeks flush. “Naturals, the both of you.”

Petyr’s hand is still on the lute, feeling the strings and reaching the pegs. “And what do these do?” He says just as he turns one of them, the string deflating slightly.

Geralt wants to laugh at Jaskier’s pained grimace as he tightens the string back as he explains to Petyr that he should leave those to the adults, but suddenly he feels a pool of warmth in his stomach, an ache in his chest he hasn’t felt before — as if all the spring’s air has been stolen from him.

He watches Jaskier play a silly little ditty for the children to dance with their very amused mother, and he can’t look away. Can’t stop staring at the way Jaskier’s eyes crinkle with joy and his face is full of laugh lines and his own flower crown threatens to fall down, small yellow petals gathering at his feet.

And the thing is — he knows Jaskier. He knows he’s kind, and thoughtful, and painfully honest. He knows he feels everyone’s pain as his own, everyone’s joy as his own.

Everyone’s love as his own.

He knows that he’ll play silly made-up songs for bored children just as he knows he’ll gather herbs for Geralt’s potions without being asked to, just as he’ll buy treats for Roach, just as he’ll carefully avoid the fork on the road to Blaviken.

He sees it, now — the way his face is lit up but not from candlelight but from within, because he’s so in love with the world that he can barely stand it.

And he’s seen him before — has watched his furrowed brow illuminated by wavering candles as he writes well past dusk, has seen the curl of his mouth and the freckles on his nose and the scar that goes through his left eyebrow and yet—

Yet it feels like he’s seeing him for the first time.

There’s a smudge of ink on Jaskier’s cheek. There always is. There always has been.

Geralt’s never wanted to wipe it off.

He wants to wipe it off, wants to tuck his hair back behind his ear and kiss the spot where his jaw meets his neck. He wants to hold him close to his chest tight enough that maybe he’ll crawl into his heart and never leave.

It should scare him. It should feel like standing at the top of a hill and looking down.

It doesn’t.

Jaskier walks into the stage, a space of elevated marble he supposes a statue had been resident of. It suits him, the small pedestal — the way the golden thread of his dark green doublet glitters when moonlight catches it makes something ethereal of him, the few fallen flowers of his crown tangled on his hair — now tousled and matted with sweat — making something beautiful of him.

“Yes, yes, I’ve returned with more!” He exclaims at the whistles and cheers from the crowd, who’ve undoubtedly fallen in love with his first set. “We’re changing things up a bit now— How would you feel about something softer for a change?”

People cheer again, and Jaskier’s face breaks into a blinding grin. “Perfect! Now,” he looks around, “I want you to find the people you love. Your spouse, your lover, your friend, your sister, your child— everyone and anyone your heart beats for.”

The crowd starts gathering around in different groups, and Geralt smiles at how mismatched they are — tiny children and their grandparents, groups of single maidens hugging each other tightly, couples tenderly embracing each other.

Jaskier’s smile is softer, this time. “There,” he whispers. “Because love is something to share— This song I’m sharing with you.”

And then he’s gone — all his stage-borne facade falls away as he starts to play. His fingers are plucking a gentle, easy melody, and he’s humming along. People start slowly swaying to the sound of his voice, their eyes bright and shiny with mirth and love. Then, very softly, his voice barely above a whisper, he sings,

“Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can’t help

Falling in love with you…”

It’s incredibly gentle, and Geralt feels drawn to it immediately. He watches as Jaskier sways with the music, eyes closed and brow furrowed, completely lost on it. There are buttercups on his hair and love in his mouth and Geralt suddenly wants to reach for him, put out his hand only for Jaskier to hold.

Jaskier opens his eyes as the last verse comes in. “Take my hand,” he sings, and he does a brave thing and looks into Geralt’s eyes. “Take my whole life, too.”

He would.

“For I can’t help,” he says with a smile, and looks out to the public. “Falling in love with you.”

The song ends, but Jaskier keeps playing the chord progression softly. The crowd isn’t there anymore — they’re all somewhere else, holding their beloved in tender arms and swaying to the tune of their love. As Jaskier’s playing slowly fades out, there is no applause, no enthusiastic cheering nor plea for an encore.

They all know.

Geralt’s looking out to the waves when Jaskier joins him by the railing.

“Hey,” he whispers.

Geralt turns to face him. “Hey,” he whispers back.

Jaskier’s smile is soft as he takes him in. “You came.”

“I did,” Geralt says, voice low. “Was told someone would be waiting for me.”

“And here I am.”

The waves crash against the rocks.

“That was a new one,” Geralt murmurs, looking at the scar on his knuckle. “The song.”

“It was,” Jaskier replies simply.

Geralt looks at him. “I liked it.” It’s no big compliment, but Jaskier seems to understand him all the same.

He always does.

“I’m glad,” he says. “I like it too.”

He leans his elbows on the railing, their shoulders almost touching. Jaskier’s cheek is still smudged with ink.

“You have…” Geralt says, gesturing to his own face, and Jaskier frowns at him. Geralt shakes his head. He licks his thumb and reaches, Jaskier’s skin soft as he swipes the ink away, his mouth slightly parted.

“There,” he whispers, but his hand doesn’t leave Jaskier’s cheek. “Do they really say it?”

Jaskier frowns, confused. Their shoulders are touching. “Who?”

Geralt reaches for Jaskier’s flower crown and looks at him, a silent request. Jaskier nods. Geralt takes it in his hands and gently tucks the loose stems back together, the way he’d seen girls do it in the town square. He doesn’t lose a single petal.

“The wise men,” he says, placing the crown on top of Jaskier’s head, where it belongs. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

Jaskier takes them in his. “It is foolish to rush in unprepared. You taught me that.”

“Am I wise, then?”

Jaskier laughs, shakes his head. “I never said that.”

Geralt doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet, watching Jaskier’s rings as they glint in the moonlight, watching Jaskier’s fingers as they play with his.

“I love you, you know,” Jaskier murmurs, looking at their joined hands.

“I know.”

“You’re my best friend.”

Geralt looks at him. “I know.”

He needs the weight of his swords strapped at his back. He wants to be brave.

He looks down.

“I love you,” he says. “I can’t help it.”

Jaskier smiles. “Well, now you’re just being mean— plagiarizing my song right in front of me.”

“Jask.” It sounds like a prayer. Geralt squeezes his hands, amber meeting cornflower blue. “You know what I mean, when I say—”

“I know what you mean,” Jaskier says. “I know.”

They drink each other in, and Geralt knows this is the first time they’re seeing each other. Gently, he places one hand on the small of Jaskier’s back, the other on his nape, and brings their foreheads together.

Jaskier’s hands find their way to Geralt’s waist. Nobody’s ever held him like that. With care. Like he’s something precious, something to be treasured.

His nose grazes Jaskier’s cheek and he whispers, “Can I kiss you?”

And Jaskier’s smiling when he says, “I wish you would.”

So he does. Soft lips against chapped ones, lute-calloused hands against scarred ones. Jaskier kisses him back tenderly, unhurried, and it’s honey-sweet like the wine he can taste on Jaskier’s mouth, like the love he can feel on his scent.

When they pull apart — only because they have to — Geralt circles Jaskier in his arms, pressing small kisses to his cheeks, his jaw, his nose, his forehead. It makes him laugh.

“Tickles,” he says, and there’s a smile in his voice. “Your beard.”

Geralt presses a final, lingering kiss to his mouth. “Sorry,” he whispers against his lips.

The party has carried on without them, as it is wont to do. There’s a harp player on the stage now, plucking a soft melody from its strings.

Jaskier’s eyes are bright when he looks up at him. It feels right, to be holding him like this, to drown in his warmth and press love into his hands like it’s all he can do — and it is. All he can do is watch into Jaskier’s eyes and try not to get lost in them and stop a smitten smile from curling on his lips.

He’s helpless, he knows. It doesn’t scare him anymore.

“Home?” Jaskier murmurs against his cheek.

The inn, he means. “Aren’t you playing?”

Jaskier’s mouth curls into a mischievous smile, one of Geralt’s favorites. “They’ll survive without me, I reckon.”

Geralt narrows his eyes. “Jaskier—”

“Yes, yes, I know,” he protests, rolling his eyes. “We need the coin. Ugh— one would think the guy confessing his undying love—”

“Now, undying is—”

“His undying love for me would change things, would buy me some indulgence— not at all!” He buries his face in Geralt’s neck, letting out a long-suffering groan. “Why must you be so responsible all the time?”

There are many reasons. Looking at Jaskier’s flushed face and capricious frown, Geralt can’t remember any of them. “Go,” he says softly, nodding at the stage. “For me.”

Jaskier groans louder. “That,” he says, poking Geralt’s chest, “is a very unfair card to play.”

“And why’s that?”

Jaskier tangles their fingers together. “Because you know I would do anything for you.”

Geralt’s face softens. He knows. “Go. I’ll wait for you.”

Defeated, Jaskier looks at the stage, then at Geralt, pouting. “Won’t you at least kiss me farewell? I’ve a long journey ahead.”

It’s Geralt’s turn to roll his eyes — still, he reels Jaskier in and presses a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Great start!” Jaskier says cheerfully. “Now, like you mean it.”

“Insufferable,” Geralt murmurs, but he gives in. The kiss is deep and slow, and somehow full of promise. He can feel Jaskier sigh happily against his lips, his scent gone sweet and warm as Geralt’s hands find Jaskier’s sides.

They part, begrudgingly. Jaskier’s cheeks are deep pink and his flower crown sits askew on his head once again, so Geralt fixes it for him.

“We should get one for you,” the bard says, watching him.

“Hmm.” Geralt presses a final kiss to his lips. “Go.”

“I’m getting you one,” Jaskier says stubbornly, ignoring Geralt’s wish, and Geralt loves him too much. “Just wait here.”

He lets Jaskier go, and watches as he runs over to the stand where a young woman is weaving tulips and baby’s breath together into a crown. He watches as he excitedly gestures at it and cradles it in his tender hands, a look of genuine joy on his face. He watches as he turns around, his lips stretched into a too-wide grin as he waves at Geralt, pointing at the crown.

He watches as he walks toward him.

He waits for him to fit into his open arms. He waits for him to place the crown on top of his head and adjust it once, twice, before it’s deemed perfect. He waits for him to kiss his cheek and groan about having to return to his duty as entertainment for the evening.

He waits for him as he plays.

“I love you,” he tells him later, when they’re both tucked in bed and their fancy clothes have been folded and their legs are tangled together.

Jaskier grins. “Say it again.”

Geralt can’t hide the smile that curves his lips — he doesn’t want to. “I love you,” he says, and kisses his cheek. “I love you,” his forehead, “I love you,” his eyelids. “I love you,” his mouth.

He says it so much the words sound foreign in his mouth. He says it until they belong in his mouth again.

“Thank you,” Jaskier says after a while, candlelight framing the tenderness in his eyes. “It’s been good.”

Geralt smiles.

It has.

#mywriting #geraskier fanfic #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fanfic #geraskier fluff #jeff buckley lyrics my beloved

[whatisthiswritingthing]

Get Some - Tierna Davidson x Reader

Prompt: So I’ve got an idea for Tierna x Reader where they’ve just started dating after quarantined together in Chicago but haven’t told the team yet because they don’t want to mess up the dynamics right before the Olympics. Nobody really suspects anything bc they are both pretty tame at camps, and bc reader has severe baby face the team is always teasing her about being an innocent little fetus forgetting she is actually like 24. So when R shows up to Orlando camp in a bulky hoodie they think nothing of it assuming it’s from Chicago weather until they notice she refuses to take it off and keeps adjusting the hood to keep part of her neck covered. They let her be thinking maybe she’s just cold until she shows up ready for practice with her winter mock neck on under her practice jersey the next day. After they force her to take it off bc it’s 80° out they discover the hickeys she was trying to hide, along with the scratches on her back and freak out bc someone is “defileing the fetus” and grill her trying to figure out who it is while Tierna is just smirking to herself by her locker.

TL/DR: Tierna x Reader trying and failing to hide r’s “love marks” featuring Proud!Tierna and BabyFace!Reader

Note - this awesome human, pretty much wrote this me. 

“Cold munchkin?” Alex teased the forward as she sat next to her in the team meeting. Her hood up, sweater strings tied.

“Not all of us live in constant heat and humidity Morgan. I bet you’re jealous of my lack of tan too,” Y/N winked back, tugging the sweater tighter around her neck.

Tierna grinned behind them, struggling to stifle her laughter.

“Of course she’s jealous! Who wouldn’t want to look like this?” Rose slid in on the other side of Y/N.

“Yea Alex, pale is the new tan,” Sonnett squeezed Alex’s traps from behind as she sat down next to Tierna.

Alex rolled her eyes at unexpected turn.

Vlatko called attention to the rest of the room, starting the meeting for the start of camp.

Tierna kicked the back of Y/N chair while she continued to try and hide her grin from everyone around her. Lindsey giving her a strange look.

At the end of the meeting, everyone made their way to the banquet room for supper, still all separated until everyone’s test results came in.  

“Hey kiddo, you need someone to cut up your food at supper?” Kelley teased, nudging the forward as she made her way to her own seat.

“Ha ha,” Y/N fake laughed, rolling her eyes, “because I’m not old enough to have my knife.”

“You got it,” Kelley winked, shooting her air guns across the table.

After that conversation flowed easily, the players all talking to each other from a distance, making the room busy and loud; everyone eager to catch up.

After supper, Y/N and Tierna attempted to stall, hoping to steal a brief moment together before they all had to spend the night alone in their rooms.

“We should just tell them we had been quarantined in Chicago together, then we could be together,” Tierna tugged on Y/N’s sleeve, swinging both their arms back and forth.

“You need T to walk you to your room, so you don’t get lost?” Ali teased as she walked by.

“Where the hell does everyone keep coming from,” Tierna grumbled quietly, while Y/N rolled her eyes for what felt like the thousandth time that day.

“I’m not a child!” Y/N stomped her foot.

“Great argument kiddo,” Pinoe held a thumbs up as she walked past to the elevator.  

“I can find my own room!” Y/N called after her, starting to walk away, only to feel another firm pull on her sleeve. She glanced down to see Tierna still holding on, looking up to see the smirk on her girlfriends face.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to tuck our kid into bed.” Tierna started to pull Y/N towards the stairs by her sleeve.

Once out of site of the rest of the team, Tierna pinned Y/N against the wall, untieing the strings to her hood. Nosing it out of her way, Tierna started kiss along her jaw line, placing a firm bite to her ear.

“I am addicted to you,” Tierna pulled the collar out of the way, moving her lips to Y/N’s collar bone, scrapping her teeth on it, then soothing it with a gentle kiss.

“Fuck T,” Y/N tilted her head back, giving Tierna more room to kiss. Her hand gripping the back of Tierna’s neck, other sliding under her shirt, scrapping her nails across her ribs.

Tierna sucked harshly Y/N throat, pulling back to see the result, a deep red mark already beginning to turn purple. “You’re going to need to ask the staff for a neck warmer tomorrow,” she whispered into Y/N’s throat, scrapping her teeth across the bruise.

Y/N pulled her hand out from Tierna’s shirt, placing her palms on her chest, debating if she should push her away. She loved what was happening, but knew they needed to stop before things got carried away, or Tierna left any more marks.

“Fuck T,” Y/N groaned out, beginning to push the defender away, “we aren’t in quarantine anymore, people can actually see us now, more importantly, our team can see now.”

“Hmm that would be unfortunate if someone saw these,” Tierna smirked as she leaned back in, attempting to place more kisses along Y/N’s neck. Only for Y/N to push more firmly against her chest.

“You’re killing me babe,” Y/N bit her lip, trying to hold back her smile. Tierna looking completely unashamed, bit the air in front of Y/N, beginning to slide her hands up the front of Y/N’s shirt, digging her thumbs into her hips. Y/N moaned at the pressure, hips pressing out for more contact.

With a brief kiss to Y/N’s lips, Tierna pulled away completely, taking three large steps back and holding her hand out.

“Come on, I promised to make sure you make it to bed safe,” she winked, wiggling her fingers to encourage Y/N to grab.

“I hate you,” Y/N said gruffly, stepping forward to take Tierna’s hand.

“No you don’t,” she sung back, swinging their arms back and forth as they began walking up the stairs.

“I do a little bit,” she mumbled, looking away from the brunette, knowing her faux seriousness would crack as soon as she saw the large smile her girlfriend had on.

“Nope!” Tierna accentuated the ‘p’ at the end, swinging their arms higher, finally earning a giggle from her girlfriend. Her ability to go from pinning Y/N to the wall and leaving hickeys across her neck to innocent and childlike was incredible.

Y/N finally gave in completely and burst out laughing as they climbed the stairs, pushing her shoulders into the taller soccer player. The two gently wrestling the rest of the way up the stairs, separating as they made it to their floor.

Tierna walked Y/N to her door, making a show of it, “I’m just down the hall if you have any bad dreams,” she ruffled her hair and began to walk away. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite!”

Several loud laughs could be heard from the doors that still remained open.

The next morning players prepared for practice on the side lines, tugging on cleats and debating on long sleeves or short sleeves, Y/N tugged her neck warmer on, tugging it all the way up to her ears.

“Yo, Chicago, shouldn’t you be used to the cold?” Kristie teased as they made their on the turf to warm up.

“Rude! I’m delicate!”

“Yea Kris be nice to the little kid,” Alex came from behind, rubbing her hands up and down Y/N’s biceps. “you cold? Do you need a sweater? Gloves?”

Y/N pulled out of Alex’s hands, rolling her eyes, “I’m fine, just a little chilly this morning.”

Everyone left it for the rest of the morning training.

Y/N was not as lucky that afternoon. Everyone offering warmer items of clothing when they saw her wearing the neck warmer again in the afternoon.

“Are you sick?” Christen reached up, attempting to feel Y/N’s forehead. Y/N was quick to duck out of the way, swatting Christens hand.

“Seriously guys, I’m fine, just not adjusting well to the climate change or something,” Y/N tried to avoid glaring at Tierna, knowing the defender would a smirk on her face throughout it all.

“Are you sure Y/N/N? Should we get the trainers?” know Tierna decided to join in the conversation. Y/N looked sharply at her girlfriend, clenching her jaw, she was the reason for the interrogation.

“I’m fine,” Y/N snarked to the group, “It’s a neck warmer, just drop it.”

“It is way to humid put here right now for you to be chilled,” Ali came over, rubbing her hand on Y/N’s shoulder, sensing the forwards discomfort at being put on the spot. But also concerned for the younger woman, no one should be chilled in the mid-afternoon Florida heat.

The entire practice everyone kept an eye on the younger soccer player. As the intensity of the practice increased, Y/N continued to tug at the neck warmer she was wearing. The hair at the base of her skull soaked with sweat, the collar of shirt drenched the entire away around, face flushed as she heated up.

At the end of practice, Y/N attempted to pull her hoodie over head after she had pulled the neck warm off. Unfortunately, she was not quick enough her movements, the hem getting caught on her sweaty, tangled bun.

“What in the actual fuck happened to your neck?” Pinoe explained, stopping Y/N from pulling the sweater on, gaining the attention of the rest of the team.

Kelley quickly bounded over, pulling the collar of her practice shirt out of the way. The rest of the team now all looking on.

“What happened to your neck?” Alex came over as well, thumb and forefinger holding Y/N’s chin, moving her head around, inspecting the now very prominent hickeys spread across the neck, collar bone, and upper chest.

A loud cat call whistle was heard from behind and “Oh damn” thrown from someone else, follow up with “get some!”

“No! Don’t get anything!” Christen shot the group of young players a hard look, eyes sharp when she looked back to Y/N, “who did this to you?”

“What? This?” Y/N motioned to her neck, “I, uhh, got a tour of the aquarium. They let me hold one of the octopuses.” She finished with a firm nod, satisfied with her answer, smiling to herself.

Tierna remained on the bench a few feet away, coughing to cover her sudden laugh at the terrible story.

“Bullshit!” Alex challenged, still holding Y/N chin firmly. Y/N attempted to pull away, Alex adjusted her grip, palming her jaw.

“Who did this to you?” Christen asked again.

“You’re like 12! No one should be doing this to you!”

“I’m 24,” Y/N rolled her eyes, attempting to pull away, only to be pulled back in.

“You are far too young to young to have hickeys!”

“I’ve had sex before.”

“No! you are not old enough to have sex!”

By now, Tierna was leaning back on the bench, watching as all the older players harassed her girlfriend, all unaware she was the cause of the marks on the young forward. She spread her arms on the back of the bench, leg casually crossed over the other, smug smile.

“Welp,” she popped the ‘p’, “I’ve kissed people, given hickeys, been hickied,” she motioned to her neck again, “and even had sex. Really good, mind blowing sex.” With a wink, Alex finally let her step out of her grip.

“Eww! No!”

“Y/N! Enough, tell us who did this to you? We obviously need to talk to them if they are doing things like this to you.”

“Guys, quit being so dramatic,” Y/N rolled her eyes, attempting to take another step away from the over protective players.

“No no no, come back here,” Tobin stepped forward now. “That ones fresh!” she copied Alex’s motion earlier, gripping her jaw and tilting it up to the expose the fresh hickey on the side.

This caused them all to step closer and inspect the hickey for themselves. Tierna uncrossed her legs, sitting up a little straighter, smile slipping slightly.

“That means its someone at camp!” Kristie called from behind all the veterans.

Y/N eyes went wide, smile fully dropping from Tierna’s face. The overprotective players all looking around, scanning each player, trying to determine who it could be.

“Is it a player? Staff? Coach?” Alex looked firmly at the younger forward.

“Gonna go save your girl?” Alyssa slid onto the bench next to Tierna on the bench, smirking at her.

“What?” Tierna whispered, shocked, eyes darting quickly to the keeper.

“Well,” Alyssa started slowly, “most of those are old, so they happened in Chicago, and you, me, and Y/N/N were the only ones there together. And there’s a fresh one since we got here. And since I didn’t do it, that only leaves you.” She firmly poked Tierna in the chest.

Tierna opened and closed her mouth. “Umm, uhh, fuck.”

“I won’t tell, but you might want to go save her over there. You know none of them are going to drop it until they figure it out,” Alyssa shrugged, “besides it’s your fault really. You are the one that put those one there.”  

Tierna continued to open and close her mouth, then watched as the veterans continued to ask Y/N who It was and beginning to call out several of the younger players who were all enjoying the small interrogation.

“Fuck,” Tierna sighed out, she slapped her thighs and pushed herself to stand. “Kell, Stanford should take your degree away.”

Kelley whipped around to glare at Tierna as she walked toward the group, “what are you talking about?”

“You’re really not very observant,” Tierna smirked at her, “I’m going to let you guys think on this a little more, Y/N/N and I are going to head back to the hotel for supper.”

Y/N smirked and skipped toward the defender.

Everyone watched them walk away, mouth open, eyebrows creased.

“Wait,” Lindsey perked up, smile growing as she figured it out, “weren’t they both in Chicago together?”

That brought all eyes over to the midfielder.

“Yes!” Kelley pointed at her, “they did! Baby T defiled baby Y/N!”

“Shit, I thought we would get further away,” Tierna tugged Y/N’s hand encouraging them to run towards an available van.

“We aren’t done with this!” Alex yelled after them.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #tierna davidson x reader #tierna davidson imagine #tierna davidson imagines

[simonsrosebud]

the one where someone doesn’t know who kevin day is, pt. 3

part one two four five

kevin has a talk with them the next morning before practice.  or more of just him storming into the lounge and going off.  the four freshman are there, too, but he doesn’t quite care.

“dalton isn’t fucked up like the rest of us!  there’s a reason i didn’t want any of you meeting or even knowing about him and it’s not because i hadn’t fucking come out yet.  he’s not a fox, and he’s not even thea.  he’s not involved with exy, he doesn’t know about riko and me and the moriyama’s and the rest!  there’s a lot of shit he doesn’t know about yet and none of you had the right throwing it all out in the air last night just to have a fucking laugh.  tell me, was it funny?  was it fucking funny getting him shitfaced just to get some answers and take the piss?!”

dan stands, and kevin holds a hand out.  she looks to andrew, but his silence sides him with kevin.  “kevin, we were just trying to-“

“you have no excuses, dan.  none of you do.  you were trying to make a fool of me and my boyfriend for nothing.  and now, i have to go cure his curiosity of the things you all said.”  and he storms out.

wymack doesn’t stop him.  if anything, he looks mad at those left.  “the fuck did you do to him to make him skip practice?!  you realize that’s never happened so long as he’s lived, right?!  we don’t have protocol for the day kevin skips exy.”

meanwhile, dalton doesn’t actually have that many questions.  the numbing of alcohol for a face tattoo is understandable, especially knowing that kevin’s sober and therefore must have had a problem.  the cracker dust he asks about just because he doesn’t know what it is- he doesn’t like it, but trusts kevin that he’s done with it.  he’s seen the scar along kevin’s hand, he already assumed it was from a surgery.  the edgar allen thing was too vague for him to be curious about, but he does ask- not about, the father comment, but if he’s okay about it.  kevin tells him this much;  that he transferred from edgar allen to palmetto because he’d known for a few years that wymack was his father, and that he didn’t have the courage to tell him until last year.

kevin thanks the gods that dalton doesn’t ask about or seem to remember any mention of the yakuza.

they’re at kevin’s suite because he knows they’ll have a few hours by themselves with everyone at the stadium, but only an hour in there’s knocking on the door.  dalton has his lips on kevin’s- he’d just said how he likes having access to his “real smile”.  “gonna get it?”  kevin shakes his head.  the knocking starts again.

“come on, kevin!  we’re sorry!  just open up for a second!”

kevin knows dalton likes when he speaks french, so he sighs and kisses him before whispering, “i hate them all.”

dan is at his door with matt and allison in tow.  “what do you want?”

“to apologize.”  kevin raises his eyebrows.  “look, we take the piss a lot and you never seemed to be visibly affected by it, so we didn’t realize that last night was upsetting you until you left.”

“you said never have i ever seen kevin have a meltdown.  why do you think you’ve seen that?  because i’m a toddler?  you know what i’ve had my reasons.”  riko.  the moriyamas.

“i know.  look, we don’t want to give you excuses.  i-i don’t have an explanation.  you’ve always kind of let us take the piss without saying anything, and we took it too far, especially last night.  andrew looked like he wanted to kill nicky for the yakuza comment, but neil talked to him about it before we went to the stadium this morning,” she whispers the last part because she’s not stupid, and kevin huffs.

matt jumps in.  “we wanna make it up to you, man.  you’ve obviously hid him from us for a reason and we proved you right.”  kevin honestly wants to get back to dalton and he wants it to just be over with.  “bring him to the winter banquet, we’ll be nice.  if anyone says anything i’ll punch em.  neil will chew em out.”

kevin grimaces.  the ravens will be at the banquet.  it’s in just over a month, the second week of december.  he’ll have to tell dalton some things by then.  and he might have to say something to the public.

he doesn’t tell him anything.  not yet, at least.  he still has three weeks until the banquet- he hasn’t even asked dalton yet.  he starts to like away games a little more than before, though.  he gets dalton a little postcard from every new state they go to.  he tapes them all to one of the walls of his room.

he’s on the phone with dalton at an airport general store, even, when he gets interrupted by two girls.  he puts on his press smile before he even notices.  “hold on, d.”

he doesn’t love fan interactions.

when they leave, dalton asks him with amusement if he’s got fans now, and kevin kind of decides he should probably tell him some more about his life because jesus, does he have fans.  he needs to tell him about he and riko.  what they were, what they were to fans of exy, what kevin was to fans of exy.  what kevin was to riko- without involving the yakuza.

but he doesn’t, because dalton never brings up the topic of “fans” again.

he doesn’t tell him until a week later, when he wakes up from a nightmare.

dalton’s leaning over him, speaking, but all kevin sees is riko riko riko.  it takes all of two seconds for dalton to back off.

“hey, hey, it’s me, it’s dalton.  you’re safe, you’re in my apartment.  no one else is here, i promise.”

kevin’s breathing so hard, dalton flicks the lamp on and he just crumbles.  he sits up and presses his hands over his eyes, “i’m sorry.”

“can i touch you?” he nods.  dalton’s sitting at his side, cross legged, and gently pulls kevin’s hands off his eyes.  “you don’t have to be sorry.  i know there’s shit in here,” he lightly lifts his hands to hold kevin’s face and taps his temple with a finger, “i don’t need to know what it is, just know you don’t have to apologize for it, and know you’re safe.”

kevin nods and twists to hug him.  and dalton wraps his arms securely around kevin’s back.  he presses a kiss to the top of his head and mumbles “c’mere” to prompt kevin into climbing into his lap.

dalton slides his fingers through kevin’s hair and it’s just so soothing, it nearly puts him to sleep.  and when dalton lays back down kevin stays wrapped around him with his cheek pressed to his chest.

when kevin wakes up it’s to find they’ve switched positions overnight.  dalton’s got his arm lazily draped over kevin’s waist, almost holding him close like a pillow.  his ankle is thrown over kevin’s, and his head is pressed into the back of kevin’s neck.

kevin doesn’t want to move.  in fact, he stays so still so as to not wake dalton, that when he stirs kevin just shushes him and pulls dalton’s arm back around him.  he holds his hand close to his chest.

dalton’s not stupid.  he knows kevin’s awake and nuzzles himself closer.  “you like being cuddled.”

“you’re the one doing it, not me.”  but he definitely tilts further into the pillow to expose his neck when dalton starts kissing up the side.

“you like being the little spoon.”  and pushes himself up over kevin.  “you like when you’re on the bottom, kev.” he kisses him deep into the mattress despite morning breath, and noses down his neck.  “i like it.”

kevin tugs at dalton’s hair.  “and what… what about it?”

ahaha.  aha.  sex.

anyway.

he tells dalton everything afterwards.  he leaves out the yakuza part, and the fact of neil’s past, because that’s another monster.  but he tells him the rest.  who his mother is and why he’s such a big deal in the exy world;  why he really left edgar allen and came to the foxes;  the tattoo that’s buried under his chess piece and what it meant.  what his relationship with riko was really like, and everything about their past and the abuse he endured.

and he fills him in on what triggers him because of that: small pitch black rooms, confined spaces without an easy way out, holding his hand too tight, the mention of riko moriyama, a lot of other things.

and dalton stays. 

so kevin asks him to the banquet.  when he says yes, he asks wymack for help arranging an interview.  there are enough people and press lingering outside the exy banquets, and he’d like to hold his boyfriend’s hand on the way in this year.

it’s scheduled to be live the morning before the banquet.  it’s with sophie silletti for espn college exy, and she posts about it as soon as it’s booked.

kevin sits with her.  it’s nothing like kathy ferdinand.  they talk strictly about exy and eventually, with his pre-approved questions, she brings up thea’s team’s most recent game.  “and forgive me if i’m wrong, but you and thea muldani split recently, yes?”

kevin nods.  “back in may, i’d say.  we’re still friendly, i have the utmost respect towards her.  in the end it just didn’t work out.”  i haven’t talked to her in months.

sophie nods.  “everything happens for a reason, i’d like to think.”

“of course.  it wouldn’t have led me elsewhere.”

“is that hinting at something?  i feel we don’t normally talk about this, but does kevin day have someone new in his love life?”  

kevin palms are sweating.  he hopes his face isn’t red with nerves.  “i do, actually.  i won’t say anything about him for his own privacy” i don’t want the public’s prying eyes “but we’ve been together for a bit, now.”

sophie is grinning, she feigns surprise.  “i heard you say him, did i not?  anything else to tell us?”

he keeps his smile easy, but he can feel the worry in the back of his head telling himself they can see right through it.  “if you’re asking, then sure.  i’m a bisexual man, so yes, my partner is also a man.  this is the first time i’ve ever announced it to the public, actually.”  as if that wasn’t the whole point of today.

“at least your fangirls can keep their hopes up, then, yeah?  still got a 50/50 shot!  and i’ve got to say, i feel honored you trusted me and my show with a milestone like this.  coming out certainly is a big deal, or at least nerve wracking!  how do you feel?” she laughs.  “is it like a weight lifted from your shoulders?”

“i was never too stressed about it.”  lies.  “some will hate, sure, but my job is the game.  if my fans are true then this won’t change that.  speaking of,” and then it’s back to exy.

wymack drives them back to palmetto, and when they’re close enough he says, “i’m proud of you for doing that.”

“thanks.”

“where am i dropping you off?”

kevin knows andrew and neil probably watched the interview, and he doesn’t feel like dealing with whatever they’ve got to say about it.  so wymack drops him at dalton’s who hugs him as soon as he opens the door.

“you watched?”

“of course.”  he kisses his cheek.

all posts/updates relating to this au can be found in the “OC: dalton miller” tag!

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#kevin day #bisexual kevin day #kevin #day #exy #aftg #tfc #OC: dalton miller #dalton miller #kevin day x dalton miller #original character #neil josten #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #nicky hemmick #matt boyd #dan wilds #allison reynolds #renee walker #david wymack #abby winfield #the foxhole court #the foxes #Palmetto State #palmetto state university #Palmetto State Foxes #the one where someone doesn't know who kevin day is

[amphxtrite]

cedric diggory x fem!reader

part one: Never Let You Go. (smut)

warnings: mentions of smut (but not actually smut), swearing, spelling/ grammar mistakes.

summary: Life with Cedric leading up to your graduation is pretty normal, except for the fact you hide the fact that you’re dating. With amortentia, avoiding practice for cuddles and a graduation dance coming up, how long can this relationship stay a secret.

a/n: thank you to the wonderful @mullthingsoverinthehotwater for this idea and all the help! She’s amazing go check her out!!

word count: 3.4k

tag list:@cupidpoison @wonderful-writer @coldlilheart @inglourious-imagines @evisbored @mayaleon0614 @dogsandrocketsocks

enjoy <3

__________________________________________

Waking up in the arms of a lover is the most ethereal feeling you could imagine, a safe feeling, so comfortable and warm, even with the slight pain that poked at you when you tried to move your legs.

As you lay next to Cedric the sun rose through the clouds and casted an angelic glow on the hufflepuff’s sculpted face, it almost felt like you were in the presence of something divine, and just as mortals were in tales of of the gods, you were curious and wished to touch the miraculous boy before you. Tracing his jawline and pink lips a smile grows before he begins to stir and a light sigh rings as he awakes.

“Good morning love.” He yawns, his raspy morning voice bringing butterflies to your stomach. “What are you doing?” He smirks looking at your thumb tracing his cheek.

“Just admiring you darling.” You giggle leaning over to press a chaste kiss to the brunette’s lips. Cedric chuckles and pulls you closer against his chest, burying his face in your neck and sighing at your sweet scent.

“We should probably get you back to your room darling, we still have class today and I’d hate to make you late.” The gray-eyed boy smirks a bit, pressing a kiss to your nose before sitting upright on the bed. “Alright.” You yawn, rubbing your eyes to get the sleep out before standing and walking towards the door, pausing when a thought crosses your mind.

“H-Hey do you mind if we keep this between us for now?” You start, a little nervous. ”I don’t think I can take any gossip right now, and I can’t have the school knowing I’m shagging the dreamiest boy at Hogwarts, they’ll hate me!” You finish with a light laugh.

Cedric can’t help but chuckle at your cheeky comment, walking over to peck your cheek before whispering. “Of course love, whenever you’re ready.”

__________

Learning magic at Hogwarts was a dream come true for you; Charms and Transfiguration were marvellous and fascinating. Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic were interesting and fun, but your favourite class, by far, was potions. Despite the potion master’s snide comments and constant eye rolls, brewing concoctions that had the properties to create and destroy was an amazing feeling. A potion has the ability to heal things even the most powerful charms cannot, they can change your form without the need to transfigure, and even break the fates to bring luck to anyone, and in that class you had the ability to do it all.

“Today, we will be brewing a very famous potion, and a very difficult one at that.” Professor Snape’s usual drone begins at the beginning of the lesson.

“Now since you are the NEWT class, I expect absolute perfection, I will write the instructions on the board and you can brew and figure out the identity of the potion with your partner. Begin.”

Excitement bubbles in you as you begin to jot down the information. You and your partner gather your supplies and begin to cut, mix and sprinkle your ingredients into the cauldron.

The distinct smell of wood combined with freshly cleaned laundry and fresh air soon floods your nose and it was as though you were on cloud nine, the scent brought a calmness to you, a safe feeling; the person connected to it was just on the tip of your tongue. A wood like aftershave, clean clothes that had swallowed you whole and the type of air only a seeker gets flying after a snitch.

Cedric peers over to you across the classroom to see you smiling at your cauldron, a dopey smile on your face. He cocks his eye brow in confusion, but as he adds the finishing touches to the bubbling liquid he immediately understands. He’s instantly transported to your arms, the scent of your intoxicating shampoo surrounding every inch of him along with chocolate and a hint of that strawberry chapstick he tasted on your lips while ravaging you in the shower. A blush immediately floods the hufflepuff’s cheeks, and suddenly his pants get a little tight.

“Mr. Diggory, since it’s quite… Obvious, you smell the amortentia. Tell us what your aroma is.”

Hoping Snape isn’t implying the tent in his pants, Cedric slaps on a small grin.

“Sweet shampoo, chocolate and strawberry chapstick sir.” He manages to nod, as Snape raises an eyebrow. “Intriguing. Miss l/n and Miss Macavoy, you were first to finish, what do you smell?”

Your partner, Heidi Macavoy’s face lights up. “Fresh parchment, Honeydukes, and broom polish.” Snape nods, looking over to you.

“I smell aftershave, clean laundry and fresh air sir.” Your eyebrows furrow for a moment when it finally hits you. There was only one person that fit that scent, in fact the only aftershave you’ve ever smelt. Cedric. Your smile widens.

The professor nods with a sigh, folding his arms and walking back to the blackboard to write. “Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world. Now, I would like you to write a paper on the properties of amortentia and how each ingredient factors into giving the potion it’s unique qualities. The rest of class will be for finishing your potions and starting your writing...” Snape concludes the lesson.

__________

Months pass and everyday grows closer to your graduation. Your relationship with Cedric is kept quiet, but you manage to steal kisses in dark corridors and meet in the night. Oftentimes you spend evenings in the prefect’s shower, using the sound of running water to hide desperate moans and dirty actions, but it still gets hard to remember in public you’re only friends.

Cedric adores teasing you in public, running his hand up and down your thigh underneath the table and flirting insufferably with you everyday.

“Well hello there gorgeous, where are you off to today?” He’d tease every morning.

“Oh shut it Diggory.” You’d sigh as Cedric leaned closer to your ear.

“That’s quite hypocritical to the person screaming my name last night.”

Leaving you a flushed mess for the rest of the morning. Cedric respected your want to keep the relationship a secret, he knew he was popular as it is, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun with you. He loved it when you gave him the warning glare if he ever tried his luck in public, and the blush he left after teasing you brought a huge smirk to his face every time. And any chance he got, whether alone or in public, he loved to bring up your amortentia.

“Aftershave, laundry and fresh air huh?” He’d grin down to you, a playful look in his eyes. “Oh Merlin here we go again.” You’d sigh, readying yourself for the cheeky comments.

“Sounds like you smelled the dreamiest boy at Hogwarts!”

__________

The Winter snow took over the Autumn leaves and Hogwarts became a winter wonderland, sweaters were swapped with cloaks, runners became boots and scarfs covered the necks of each student in the school. Unless you were a quidditch player. The captains of each team were still determined to win the quidditch cup, and Cedric was no exception. Everyday was filled with drills, plays and scrimmages that left your muscles sore and your nose frozen from the winter cold. Cedric left no time to stare at the falling snow and each practice somehow left the team shivering and sweating all together.

You couldn’t blame each of the captains for wanting to earn the cup and lead their house to victory, but when Cedric went captain mode it seriously made it seem like you were going to be stuck by your goal post for the rest of the winter.

“Ced, it’s blizzarding outside.” You sigh as the brunette began pulling on his uniform.

“Can we please just take today off? We’ve trained everyday for the past 3 weeks!” Cedric seems to hesitate. “I-I know love, but-“

“Cedric, you know you’re overworking yourself, c’mon let’s just take today off alright?” You stick your bottom lips out in a pout and make grabby hands towards the tall hufflepuff.

“Alright love, because you asked so nicely.” He smirks and collapses back into your arms. He wouldn’t admit it, but you were right, his hands still ached from holding the broom too tight and Merlin were his feet cold. You smile before relaxing into your darling’s arms.

__________

As Winter shifted to spring, the subject of graduation became of the utmost importance.

“Graduating class! As you know at each graduation ceremony there is a ball and banquet. I expect proper behaviour, and represent hufflepuff well. It was a pleasure having you here with us.”

Professor Sprout’s speech comes to an end as the graduating students of hufflepuff cheered and applauded their head of house.

“Are we allowed to bring dates to the ball? A person not the fruit I mean.” Another student calls to Sprout as a couple kids laugh. “Of course! You can bring any of the graduating class, of any house, with you.” The short professor smiles and turns to chat with a girl.

Cedric immediately turns to find you in the crowd, smiling excitedly at you, only to see a worried expression on your face.

“Are you alright?” He asks, walking closer to check on you.

“Can we talk a sec?” You pull the Head boy by the arm to a deserted area, away from prying eyes and take a deep breath.

“Cedric, I really want to go to this ball with you, but I'm nervous about what people would think of me.” You begin cracking your knuckles in an anxious manner, biting on your lips as everything that could go wrong plagues your mind.

“Darling.” Cedric smiles and takes your hands into his. “Who cares what people say? I’d be honoured to have you by my side. If you’ll have me that is.” Cedric looks around for anyone before falling to his knee and kissing your hand. “Y/n, I absolutely adore you, and I could not care less what little minded people have to say. Accompany me to the ball?” The hufflepuff’s eyes fill with hope and love and you knew then, he was right. Cedric was your sunshine and no one could take him away from you.

“Yes Cedric! Yes I’ll go to the ball with you.”

__________

It was decided the two of you would show up together at the ball to ‘announce’ your relationship, but until then you’d stay on the down low.

It was hard seeing girl after girl walk up to Cedric with hope in their eyes only to be rejected in the nicest way possible. You were happy Cedric was yours, but some of these girls were gorgeous and sweet and it made you want to hide your face when they’d walk away dejected; although a small part of your brain jumped for joy when Cedric would discreetly look at you and wink after each confession. As each day grew warmer, so did your heart. Excitement flourished and each day held pure joy that you were one step closer to a future with Cedric.

__________

The Hogsmeade weekend before the graduation ceremony finally arrived and just like most of the graduates you rushed to find the perfect outfit before everything was gone. There were quite a few clothing shops at the village, but your favourite was the small shop towards the end of the street. A small business run by a mum and her family. You enter the shop and the smell of cinnamon and sugar greets you.

“Y/n!” Two little voices call out and two young girls make a beeline for you.

“How are my two little princesses?” You giggle, kneeling down to their level to wrap the small children in your arms.

Coming to the shop often helped you grow close to the family in charge, they were so kind and always had exactly what you were looking for.

“Where’s your mum kiddos?” You ask just as Melina, the owner and mum of the two girls, comes rushing towards you.

“Good to see you y/n dear, now you two run along while I help our little graduate.” She smiles at the girls who hug you one last time before running off to find something to play with.

“Looking for a dress i’m guessing?” Melina laughs and begins walking towards a shelf in the back. “You know me too well Mellie.” You smirk, trailing behind the brunette. Mellie brings her finger to her chin as she begins searching, her eyes full of concentration, shifting to success as she pulls a f/c gown from the rack.

“I knew this day was coming, so I made this dress especially for you.” She grins, holding the dress out to you.

Immediately you wrap your arms around her, and thank her like your life depended on it. This was by far one of the most thoughtful things someone had done for you, and it made you emotional. With small tears running down your face you pull back. “Thank you so much Mellie, it’s gorgeous.”

You giddily run for the change room and pull yourself into the gown. The f/c contrasts your skin beautifully and the shape accentuates your curves, bringing out a newfound confidence and you find yourself admiring yourself. Twirling, laughing and picturing yourself dancing with Cedric.

Despite her insisting it was a gift, you press the galleons for the full price into her hand, hugging her and the kids one last time before walking out of the store, dress in your arms. You stop at Honeydukes for a treat before making the trip back to the castle.

__________

Cedric wanted to make sure he was dressed appropriately for the ceremony, and his suit from last year just wasn’t going to cut it. He scourges every clothing shop in the Hogsmeade vicinity only to be met with empty shelves or nothing in his size. He’s about to give up and wear his old suit when a small shop catches his eye.

“Worth a shot.” He murmurs before pushing open the door. “Hello, I’m looking for a suit.” He greets the woman at the front.

“Oh you must be graduating as well. I’m Melina, please follow me.” She gives the brunette a warm, motherly smile before leading him to a rack.

“I just had a girl come in for her graduation outfit as well. Do you know y/n?”

Cedric let’s his smile shine through when your name is mentioned and turns to Melina.

“I do actually, I’m the lucky guy who gets to go to the ball with her.”

Melina’s eyes light up and she immediately rushes towards a suit towards the end of the aisle.

“Perfect, I had a lot of extra fabric when I made her dress, so I tailored a suit to go with it.” She rushes towards Cedric, pulling a tape measure from her apron pocket. Cedric raises his arms and allows the woman to take his measurements, an excited smile gracing his face.

“It’ll be a little tight in the chest, but other than that it’s a perfect fit!”

Melina quickly pushes Cedric into a change room and the brunette shrugs on the dress shirt and jacket before pulling on the pants and the cape-like overcoat. He nodded to himself in the mirror. This was perfect and he knew you’d love to see him in your favourite colour.

__________

The night of your graduation ceremony arrived and every seventh year was preparing themselves for the night ahead. Some were fretting over hair and makeup while others were content with just showing up and having fun. You were in your room with a couple of your friends, helping each other with outfits and makeup.

“Hold still Sebastian, I'm almost done with the eyeliner!” You scold the blonde as he fiddles with his fingers. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just ticklish.”

You smile and feel a tug on your scalp.

“Gently Heids, you’re gonna rip out my hair.”

Everyone began to laugh and slowly but surely you all got dressed and prepared for the long night ahead. You slowly make your way to the great hall, arms linked with your friends and laughs ringing from everyone. Once at the doors you split up in search of your dates. You spot Cedric’s mop of brown curls and quickly make you way closer to him.

“Nice suit.” You smile and turn back to your date, smiling at the colour choice and design.

“Thanks I got it from Melina.” He grins proudly, pulling a corsage from behind his back and clasping it around your wrist.

“No wonder we’re matching!” You laugh and move your wrist around admiring the flowers. Cedric smiles as he takes in your dress, thanking his lucky stars for whatever he did to deserve such an angel like you.

“Well, you ready milady?” Cedric grins offering his arm to you. “As I’ll ever be milord.”

You take in a deep breath and push open the doors to the hall.

Bright lights flood your vision and happy cheers sound in your ears, people laughing, dancing and drinking, and overall having a great time. Your face lights up and you begin to pull Cedric faster through the room. There were quite a few eyes staring in your direction. Emotions ranging from envy, sadness, disbelief and awe were all noticed when you stepped inside with the Hogwarts Champion, golden student and Head boy on your arm. You could hear whispers claiming you to be fake, an attention seeker or whore, and a frown begins to tug at your lips. Cedric takes notice and quickly wraps you into his arms gazing at you with love filled eyes as everyone else fades away. The anxiety and disappointment evaporates and soon it was just you and Cedric swaying in the middle of the dance floor. Many of your friends shoot you thumbs ups and congratulated the two of you, but all you could focus on was the gray eyes that pulled you into a trance. When the two of you glided across the hall you could’ve exploded with happiness, Cedric ignored even his best mates just to keep on dancing with you. His eyes were glued to you and only you as your face lit up and your eyes shone like stars. He was reminded of the Yule Ball from last year and how he awkwardly danced with you, trying not to look directly into your eyes in fear of getting lost and tripping up.

If his past self could see him now Cedric was sure his mouth would be agape with an unshakable grin. the brunette kept on pinching himself just to make sure you were really in his arms looking into his eyes as if he was your world. It got to the point he couldn’t help but pull you into him and dip you into a low kiss.

So much had happened in just a couple days. He’d won a quidditch game and your affection, he made love to you in a shower, cuddled you in his bed, and smelled you in his amortentia. And while all those things were amazing, he didn’t need one more hint you were the one for him. He had fallen in love with you, and when he looked to the future, the only one he could see by his side was you; In front of him when he knelt to propose, Beside him in a white dress and a veil, holding your children in your arms and growing gray and old with him. His silver eyes found themselves tearing up as he deepened the kiss and held you there in place. The sound of whooping and groaning drowned out, and you smiled into the sentimental kiss, cupping the hufflepuff’s cheek in your hand as you wiped away his tears.

“I love you y/n, so much.” Cedric murmurs against your lips, trying to hold back his tears as you stood so beautifully before him, drying his tears and smiling that perfect smile.

“I love you too Cedric, more than you’ll ever know.” you respond adoringly.

The ceremony began and every student cried in joy at the fact they were now graduates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

You held onto Cedric’s hand all night and as the party came to an end, you toasted to the night and all the bright days ahead.

With the newfound freedom to just be a couple, Cedric pulls you away from the dance early and with a laugh, leads you to his dorm and places you onto his bed. The rest of the evening was dedicated to your sinful thoughts and desires as lust broke free.

No one saw you for the rest of the night.

#cedric diggory #harry potter imagine #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory fluff #cedric x y/n #cedric x you #cedricsbrowncurls #cedric diggory fanfiction #fanfic #hogwarts #part 2