#Like they just need to let JA cook for a bit and then he’ll give them a 15x18 follow up.. lads 🫣 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tranzfalgar · 3 years

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okay it’s time for some stardew valley headcanons for the bachelor/ette(s) so let’s GOOOO

Alex:

- he always awakes before his grandparents, and on warmer days he’ll go down to the beach to watch the sunrise.

- friends with elliot! the two of them sit on the side of the dock sometimes and just chat about life.

- knows how to make cookies, as evelyn taught him when he was a bit younger

- wary of the saloon, as he doesn’t really like the smell of alcohol and only goes into it if he’s forced to!

- if you marry him, he can and will pick you up randomly to surprise you while you’re working!

- if married, he will “bench press” your kids once they become toddlers, and it always makes them giggle

- hates the winter and gets cold really easily. on the first day of fall he’s already bundled up wanting it to be summer again.

Elliot:

- willy is like a father to him. the two of them sit on the docks and watch the fish swim by together

- sometimes he’ll braid his hair, and leah will bring flowers from the forest and weave them into his hair.

- has a rlly pretty singing voice, and likes to record piano covers in his spare time

- if you marry him and the two of u have kids, he’ll always braid their hair in the morning and tuck flowers behind their ears.

- he brings home fresh fish he caught and makes himself dinner every night. that’s why he’s an excellent cook.

- has actually caught a legendary fish before!

- his eyes change color, they can go from blue to green to brown in the same day. people call them the “prismatic shard of eyes”

Harvey:

- he’s so clumsy that sometimes he’ll even trip over air. due to this, he has little bruises all over his knees and elbows.

- his favorite animals are birds. sometimes he’ll go outside and just give them some bird seed. he loves watching them fly around.

- not only is he fascinated with planes, but he’s also fascinated with the weather. as a kid he used to watch the weather channel, and he dreamed of becoming a weatherman.

- when he needs to focus really hard, he’ll pull his hair back with a headband

- him and his mother were and still are very close, and he writes letters to her at least once a week

- he cannot cook to save his life, but he’s an incredible baker! will make you little treats if you’re friends or married

- he always wears a wristwatch, but the time is always 6 minutes behind. he likes it because it has a plane engraved into the side against his wrist.

Sam:

- he had adhd, and his stims include flapping his hands, tapping his foot and strumming his guitar

- he has a beautiful singing voice, think like wilbur soot but a bit more high pitched?

- the reason he likes cactus fruit so much is because he just plants them and lets them grow. he loves succulents because they don’t give him an allergic reaction!

- cannot play video games for shit. sebastian and abigail have banned him from multi-player games because he just sucks so bad.

- love language is acts of service, simply because he likes singing for people he cares about and doing little things for them!

- if you marry him, he will bring his guitar into the coop and/or barn and sing to the animals. they have learned to run over a greet him, since they love his singing.

- his hair is actually curly, but you’re unable to tell due to how much he gels and straightens his hair.

- has mastered the art of the puppy dog eyes

Sebastian:

- loves the hell out of halloween, but is scared of literally everything. he nearly cried watching a horror movie with sam and abigail.

- really good with a slingshot! so if he were to go into the mines, he would wreck some monsters shit with his slingshot skills

- he had glow in the dark stars on his ceiling, but removed them. he used to love the stars and space, but came to resent them because it was his sisters thing.

- he like…irl blushes. like an anime character. when he’s embarrassed, upset, flustered, his face will go all pink. everyone picks on him for it.

- has/had a crush on most of the towns singles. he is a bisexual disaster and secretly a romantic so….take from that what you will.

- a natural born ginger, but dyes his hair. he also has freckles on his nose! and he has an eyebrow slit because of a scar!!

- for some stupid reason, he takes really good care of his hands? like he always makes sure they don’t get calloused, and his nails are always painted black, despite using his hands all the time for work.

Shane:

- he cannot cook. he burned pasta noodles because he didn’t know you had to put water in the pan.

- he still has a chicken plushie from when he was a baby, and it still sits on his bed. and if he cuddles with it at night? no one needs to know.

- has a huge birthmark on his side shaped like a heart

- really good at mixology, so i think that when joja gets shut down, shane works at the saloon and makes the drinks while gus cooks. he adds a whole new section on the menu!

- friends with sebastian. they paint each other’s nails from time to time, or sit in the rain together and just talk.

- kinda strong as hell? he lifts boxes in joja for work, as well as carrying around jas, so i’m assuming he could just….pick the farmer and his friends up?

- he has the most contagious laugh, it used to be a rare sound, but now that it’s a pretty common occurrence, shane makes people laugh all the time with his own laugh.

Abigail:

- buff. she is buff as hell. her and alex work out together sometimes, since she expressed a desire for adventure. she has picked up sam and sebastian with no warning and thrown them into the ocean

- can talk to animals due to her being the daughter of the wizard! so sometimes she’ll go to marnies farm and just chat with the cows or something

- if she sees a tree, she WILL climb it. she loves it so much, it’s just so adrenaline inducing for her.

- her and sebastian tried to go into the mines before but sam stopped them because it wouldn’t have been very safe. they were all 14.

- trying to learn to play the ukulele with a little help from sam. it’s frustrating, but she really likes the sound of it, and she’s determined as hell.

- absolutely cracked at any and all video games he plays. mario kart? she will kick your ass. animal crossing? her island has 5 stars. pokémon? she always wins. you can’t stop her, she’s too powerful.

- she has glasses, but prefers contacts, since glasses would get in the way of her adventuring.

Emily:

- not only can she sew, but she also makes her own soaps and candles! any form of creation she adores.

- loves flowers, and has a lot of little potted ones in her room. she raises them, gives them little names and personalities, and then brings them to sandy and tells her all about each flower

- she can roller skate, and it’s her preferred method of transportation. she can do a bunch of fun tricks as well!

- has an eyebrow slit

- making cute little baskets of homemade gifts is her favorite thing to do for her friends. sometimes she’ll just leave them on their doorsteps for no reason other than she wants to!

- can SPRINT in heels. like even 6 inch heels she can just RUN and it scares everyone who sees it.

- she loves the sounds of birds chirping in the morning, and she’s able to identify the name of the bird by its chirping and calls

Haley:

- is able to perfectly crack and drink from coconuts. that’s why she loves them so much.

- has the worst sense of direction. she’s lucky she lives in a small town, or she’d get lost all the time

- the spring is her favorite time of year, simply because she loves to capture life coming back in those spring months. baby animals, blooming flowers, her friends on the beach or just chilling in the sun, all of it

- her most prized possession is the very first picture her and emily took as kids on their parents polaroid. it’s taped to her mirror

- has a little beauty mark under her lip, but it normally isn’t visible due to being covered with makeup!

- she’s able to do her own nails! this is because she is ambidextrous, yet she doesn’t know, because it’s never been brought up

- she fucking LOVES learning about and identifying plants, trees and flowers. she knows so many it’s crazy. she has a great memory.

Leah:

- resident true crime enthusiast and ghost hunter. she drags elliot with her around town to go hunting for ghosts. they also watch documentaries together!

- has a bunch of little scars on her hands from her artwork

- to get inspiration for works, she’ll go on walks at different times of the day, different seasons, different routes, and she’ll turn each walk into a work of art. depending on all the environment and those who she runs into, each piece is vastly different.

- animals love her, and will sometimes just follow her around for no reason. she doesn’t mind at all, she kinda loves it.

- friends with emily. they are currently teaching each other their own forms of art, since they love learning from each other!

- really good at dancing, she’ll dance while she’s working on projects and she’ll hum a song to herself

- her favorite statue was created after she went on a walk, ran into abigail, and the two of them went swimming in the ocean and stayed there as the sun set and the stars came out. she has a little crush on abigail.

Maru:

- her hair is ALWAYS tied up, it’s impossible for her to work if her hair is in her eyes

- when she was a kid she wanted to be an astronaut, because she loves the stars, but she found she prefers the science and math behind it all

- she pierced her own ears, she has little star earrings!

- watches cartoons and geeks out about them with penny when they meet up in town!

- for some odd reason, she is terrified of butterflies. no one who knows her, or even maru herself have ANY idea why, but she will run away if she sees one.

- her favorite memory was the one night her and sebastian stayed up really late as kids and snuck outside to look at the stars (back when sebastian still loved them) and they ended up seeing a meteor shower

- she presses flowers as a hobby, and just keeps them in a little notebook alongside her ideas for projects and gadgets.

Penny:

- while she’s cleaning her and pam’s home, she finds herself singing to herself. she has yet to be caught by anyone

- each day, her hair is done ever-so-slightly different. each morning, she likes to change it up, and sometimes jas or vincent will give her something to put in her hair

- also interested in ghosts, will occasionally join elliot and leah on their adventures

- she is naturally really warm, so she doesn’t have to bundle up as much during the winter. the kids cling to her because she’s like a human space heater

- has a bit of a geeky side, and she loves to watch cartoons a lot. when she can find the time, she always watches them. they being her lots of comfort.

- has a small scar on her side from when she tripped over as a child onto something sharp. she likes it because with two freckles, it makes a little smiley face

- loves the water and the feeling of sea wind in her hair. she secretly wants to learn to drive a boat, so she can feel that wind in her hair whenever she wants.

#stardew #stardew valley #sdv alex #sdv elliott #sdv harvey #sdv sam #sdv sebastian #sdv shane #sdv abigail #sdv emily #sdv haley #sdv leah #sdv maru #sdv penny #stardew valley headcanons

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little-diable · 3 years

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Deal with the consequences - Jasper Hale (smut)

Request by anon: I was wondering if when you get the time I could request a Jasper smut off the November prompt list, prompts 28 & 33. Maybe with the Major, where he gets jealous after the reader intentionally tries to rial him up. Maybe they made a bet on who could go longer with out touching the other but she just pushes him over the edge...

Missed writing some major smut, enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: reader decides to tease Jasper on a school trip, the major has to punish her for being such a brat.

Teasing Jasper was something she’d try almost every day, though barely succeeding as he’d get to her before she could coax a reaction out of him. But today (y/n) knew that it would be her chance to make him go crazy, on the way to their school trip, surrounded by too many students.

Her tight blouse didn’t leave much to imagination, hand placed on his knee, eyes focused on the windows of the school bus. She had to bite down her smirk as her hand began to wander up his thigh, tracing a few patterns into the fabric of his trousers. Jasper grasped her hand, golden eyes telling her to behave herself, trying to drown out her emotions, the emotions that shot tingles right down to his crotch, shifting in his seat.

Just as they arrived at their destination she crawled into his lap, back facing him, behind rubbing against his growing bulge. “Darlin’”, he murmured, hands squeezing her sides, trying to gain some control over his instincts, biting down the need to fuck her into the seat, not bothered by their classmates. (Y/n) giggled, following the rest of the students out of the bus, squealing as Jasper enclosed his hand around her wrist, “behave”, he whispered into her ear.

“Why should I? I know that you can’t resist me anyways”, she was feeling extra bratty that day, twirling a few strands of her (y/h/c) hair around her fingers. “You think so?”, he kept his eyes focused on their teacher, careful not to attract any attention, “let’s bet”, (y/n) chuckled. Jasper shook his head, sighing, already regretting his next words, “alright, I bet that I’ll be able to resist you for days even”, the words made her huff, arms crossed in front of her chest, “let’s see who’ll be able to go longer without touching the other”.

(Y/n) didn’t give him a chance to reply, walking away from him, she had to get some distance between them, already hating herself for being that bratty, how’d she be able to survive without touching him? He could feel the frustration taking over her body, smirking to himself as his eyes wandered along her frame, clicking his tongue, oh, it would be torture not to touch her, but the need in her eyes as he’d tease her would bring enough satisfaction upon him.

And tease her he did, oh he did, flexing and unflexing his fist as she’d stare at his hands, as if he was about to wrap his fingers around her throat, choking her while he buried his length in her heat, biting his lip as his eyes took in every inch of her frame, growling as soon as she’d stand in front of him, lips ghosting over her skin.

But (y/n) knew how to get to him, tugging on her shirt, exposing a bit more of her skin, tongue running along her lips, batting her eyelashes at him, doing everything she could to get him to break. Both would struggle equally much, but they were too stubborn to give in, even as they’d arrive back in Forks, not touching each other as she sat next to him in his car.

“Will you stay over?”, Jasper mumbled, eyes finding hers, tighly holding onto the steering wheel, to keep himself from touching her knee, “mhm”, she nodded her head, biting her lip. (Y/n) would try to keep her distance, getting comfortable on the couch, snuggled into a few blankets, watching some cooking shows with Esme, trying not to think about her boyfriend.

With trembling limbs she entered his room, anticipation took over every vessle of her body, having to sleep next to him would be pure torture, not touching his skin as she’d rest on his chest, no kisses shared between them, nothing. “Darlin’”, Jasper growled, she was just about to change, smirking at him as she pulled her shirt over her head, eyes not leaving his once. An animalistic sound rumbled through the vampire, suddenly he was standing in front of her, pushing her against the wall, lips moving in synch with hers.

“I won”, (y/n) chuckled against his lips, but the moment of victory was short-lived, his eyes had turned into a darker shade, hands flinging her onto his bed, hovering above her. “You think so?”, one hand moved her panties asside, fingers instantly sinking into her heat, spreading her walls. “Jas”, she moaned, trying to keep herself from closing her eyes, giving into the heavenly feeling. “You know”, he sucked on her jawline, “bratty girls will have to deal with the consequences”. His voice got deeper with every word he spoke, giving the major enough room to take over his instincts.

(Y/n) quirked an eyebrow, “you won’t cum”, he breathed out, smirking at her confused expression, cirling her clit, putting more and more pressure onto the sensetive nub. She gave her best, tried to keep her body from giving into his touch, swallowing down her moans, but as his fingers gazed her sweet spot she was done for, moaning his name, orgasm overtaking her body. Jasper kept moving his fingers through her high, jaw clenched, “you want to be punished, don’t you? Want me to wreck you, to mark your body?”.

Desperately she moaned a small “yes major”, eyes following his every move, watching him tug down his boxers, “I’ll ruin you, nobody will ever be able to touch you like I do”. Her breathing quickened, eyes wide, pupils dilated, wondering what he’ll do to her, too focused on her thoughts to notice him parting her folds, pounding into her heat. “Such a desperate little girl”, he panted, grasping her jaw, keeping her locked in place.

“Oh god”, (y/n) bit down on her tongue, trying to keep herself from screaming his name, her breathing rapidly quickened, the whole room was spinning, senses overstimulated. Jasper was set on a ferocious pace, not giving her a second to catch her breath, her clit was pulsing, already exhausted from her first orgasm. “Is this what you wanted? Wanted me to bruise you? To punish you for being such a brat?”, he rambled, marking her hips with his, his white chest twinkled in the moon light, what a mesmerizing sight.

Jasper let go of her jaw, hand wandering down to her nipples, squeezing the hard nubs, “you won’t cum just yet”. She furrowed her eyebrows, too far gone to protest, only a small “please major” spilled from her lips, trying to hold off her orgasm, something she never succeeded with. He dipped his head down to kiss her, tongues fighting for victory, drowning out her sounds, pushing her closer to the edge with every thrust of his.

“Don’t”, he murmured, Jasper could feel her walls clenching around his length, tears of desperation blurred her vision, trying to follow his order, a smirk tugged on his lips, “you can do it darlin’”. Jaspers pace soon began to falter, he could feel his own orgasm nearing, he wouldn’t give in just yet, wanted to push her over the edge first. “Be a good girl for your major, let go”, the words pushed her into the arms of her orgasm, drowning in the heavenly feeling, moaning his name.

He kept his eyes focused on her, thumb running along her lower lip, releasing himself into her heat, growling as he let go. “Good?”, he whispered into her sweaty skin, head placed on her chest, listening to her rapidly beating heart. “Thank you”, (y/n) kissed his forehead, arms wrapped around his frame.

#Jasper Hale #Jasper Hale smut #Jasper Hale imagine #Jasper Hale x reader #twilight #major jasper whitlock #twilight smut #twilight imagine

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omniscientwreck · 3 years

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Let me combine both of your favorite things! I would love a little thing about Caduceus (in his infinite wisdom and questionable intelligence) trying to give either Essek or Caleb relationship advice that may or may not be actually helpful. Those two wizards are probably too much in their own heads to see what's right in front of them and could use a little nudge. Just imagine both of them going to Caduceus for advice on how they're attracted to the other and Caduceus just sitting there trying to fight to urge to facepalm.

Hello! Thank you for combining my two favourite things into this fic that took way too long but I'm quite pleased with! I hope you enjoy!

In which Caduceus has three conversations with two wizards fighting against a force bigger than either of them.

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The first of these conversations Caduceus had was expected. Gardening alongside Essek, teaching him how to sow beauty where destruction had laid waste had been therapeutic for both of them. Caduceus had never given up on the war criminal. It’s difficult to feel no sympathy for someone whose story was written across their face in blank but pleasant stares and a mask of platitudes.

The state he’d been in when they met him at the outpost had filled Caduceus with determination. He’d been as close to a wreck as they’d ever seen him and now kneeling alongside him and looking over to see a small self-satisfied smile as he observed the work they’d done, it feels like they’ve done something right. This second chance had been well earned and he has faith that Essek will continue to earn it for the rest of his days.

This Essek is determined to right wrongs, and he’s started with the garden. He pays careful attention to the plants, always asking if he’s unsure about the compatibility of certain species, and making sure to put them exactly where they tell him. When they work past the point when the sun disappears behind emerald leaves he takes off the gloves Jester had made him and digs his hands into the ground. It seems to bring him peace, it’s good that he’s found any.

Most of the time when they work it’s silent, creases pressed into Essek’s forehead. He sweats through the layers that serve to keep him safe from the heat overhead and always has to be cajoled into taking breaks or drinking water. It reminds him a bit of Yasha.

On the third day, when he’d nearly gone faint Caduceus has to intervene, “You don’t need to hurt yourself to repent you know.”

Essek takes great care to swallow and not choke on the water he’d been sipping, bad timing. The mask comes up again, “I don’t know what you mean.” he states flatly. He knows that Caduceus is smarter than that and it shows.

“Hurting yourself doesn’t change anything. It’s the creation of beauty here that tips your scales, not the destruction of yourself.”

He nods slowly, indigo eyes downcast. “I suppose you’re correct. I have much to atone for Caduceus. There is much work to be done before I will deserve any of the kindness you foist upon me.”

“Hey now, I decide who deserves my kindness. We all do.”

Essek nods again, running a dirt stained hand through his silver hair. It leaves streaks of dirt, Caduceus says nothing.

“It’s difficult to be made aware of your stark moral failings, to learn what it means to truly care for someone again. It’s difficult to care more than you expect and to know what is enough, if anything is.”

His eyes flick behind Caduceus, where he can hear Caleb explaining something to Luc and he understands more than Essek probably wants him to. “You’ll find enough.” Essek looks at him, eyes full of a delicate hope, easily shattered, “He’ll tell you when it’s enough.”

His eyes widen just slightly and a deep blush spreads across his face alongside a smile so small it’s like he doesn’t want to let himself accept the barrage of feelings it holds back. “If.” His voice is small but the weight is heavy in the tone.

Caduceus reaches a hand to cover one of his, “When. Remember, I see things the rest of you don’t.”

Essek smiles wryly at that, voice full of mirth, “Of course Mr. Clay the ever observing.”

They go in for dinner and Essek speaks up a little more, he’s a little more alive. The change is small, but Caduceus notices.

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The second conversation is less expected, completely unexpected if he’s being honest. Caleb arrives at the doorstep of the grove one evening around 8 months after they’d last seen each other. “Hallo friend, I hope I am not intruding.”

His smile is easier now, though still restrained by sadness. “Not at all Mr. Caleb you are always welcome here. There should be left overs from dinner, fix yourself a plate.”

Caleb allows himself to be ushered in and fussed over. He tells a few stories of the trial but Caduceus tries to steer away from that particular vein of conversation. It’s raw and it doesn’t look like he’s fully healed. There’s still one catch somewhere that he needs to loose himself from before the smile will be easy and free, before he can walk away from his past and toward the future.

“I am going to Aeor next.”

Ah.

When Caduceus doesn’t say anything he continues, voice laced with trepidation, “I am going to ask Essek to join me.” he wants Caduceus to convince him of something.

“Well, two wizards is better than one.” He eyes Caleb knowingly and the wizard squirms a bit under his gaze.

“It is just, a little strange isn’t it? The directions we are led in.” He trails off again, maybe he’s hoping for wisdom. Caduceus decides he can probably dispense something.

“You’ve never seemed like someone who wanted much to be herded into decisions to me.”

“It’s been a journey.”

Caduceus clears his dish and sets down a teapot, “It’s a journey you’re still on. One that might not have a definite end. Is it worth it to deny yourself happiness because you’re worried about whether you deserve it?”

That caught him a little off guard, copper hair shook a bit as he’d clearly gone a little further than Caleb was expecting. He likes to talk in metaphors so that he can hide from truths later, or at least pretend everything can have multiple meanings. It’s time for Caduceus to stop letting him twist words around in that expansive brain of his until the original meaning is obscured by hypotheticals.

“I cannot tell you what’s right Caleb, but if you came here for a reasonable perspective listen to the one I’m giving you.” He pours the tea and offers honey, “You will never know if you don’t go and I know you better than you think. You don’t like loose ends, not as long as there’s something to learn.”

He nods, staring into tea, they’re so similar and so stubborn that Caduceus can feel the loving annoyance usually directed at his siblings creeping in. “Caleb, stop punishing yourself for something that wasn’t your fault in the first place.” Caleb nearly interrupts but Caduceus keeps barrelling through, “Self-flagellation won’t get you anywhere, you’ll just end up with regrets and what ifs. Go explore Aeor, forget everything else for a bit. Do that thing the two of you do where you’re finishing each other’s sentences and nobody knows why you’re bothering to speak out loud because it’s obvious you’re thinking the same things.”

Caleb’s smile is smaller now, but lighter. “Ja mein Freunde, I think you will. Thank you for tolerating questions I don’t know how to ask out loud.”

Caduceus smiles back, “I think this will be good. If you need anything while you’re there don’t hesitate to reach out. Stock up on healing, you’ll need it.”

Caleb laughs at that and spends the night, before heading to Zadash the next morning, undoubtedly to clear out Pumat’s stock of healing potions.

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The third time this conversation is had it’s his fault. He doesn’t mean to start it, but honestly the situation is getting ridiculous and the sibling feelings Caduceus has to both the wizards are firmly cemented.

They decide to get everyone together maybe a year after the last conversation. It’s his first time seeing any of them since then and as soon as they’re all in the same room it’s like no time has passed at all. Essek had come to get him while Caleb gathered the rest at Beau and Yasha’s home in Rexxentrum. Jester wraps him in a crushing and loving hug, Beau gives him a punch that’s soft for her but still stings, Yasha offers clippings of flowers immediately, and Fjord’s hug is warm. Veth’s family is here and she looks happier than he’s ever seen her. Caleb greets him with the warmth that’s always burned behind eyes that hold less and less sorrow every time he sees him. He hopes they’ll drop it all together one day.

When they pop back into existence from the way Caleb and Essek look at each other Caduceus expects something to happen. He doesn’t know what exactly but they hold each other’s eyes in a profound way. There’s gravity to them and everyone can feel it, he’s getting tired of watching them fight it.

It seems so simple even though he doesn’t feel that kind of pull, to see where this is going. It’s feels like the days before a big storm, when everyone knows what’s coming and it’s getting a little ridiculous that you’re still waiting for lightning to strike.

Everyone else drinks, they cook and eat and tell stories. Caleb and Essek sit apart but spend the entire time stealing glances across the table when they don’t think the other is looking. Nearly always they catch each other.

Yasha plays on the bone harp, she’s gotten very good and Jester swings Veth around into a dance. Kingsley, three sheets to the wind, grabs Beau and whips her into a reluctant dance and her initial protests eventually bubble into laughter. Caleb sits beside Caduceus and Jester has switched to twirling a flustered Essek across the floor of the livingroom. It often turns to dancing with these people and he loves that they love it so much.

“As I recall you’re an excellent dancer Mr. Caleb, go cut in.”

He shakes his head, “Ah- I couldn’t. Yasha is playing and I don’t think you’re much of a dancer.” He looks over with a quirk of a brow.

“I’m sure Jester won’t mind a break.”

He coughs at that, “I ah-”

Caduceus shakes his head, “No, talking is done, this is getting ridiculous.” He puts a hand square on his back and guides Caleb to stand, “You two will weave circles of metaphor around each other until one of you drops. Go Caleb, follow gravity.”

He seems to understand, seems to accept Cadcueus’ words and as soon as he stands to full height, Essek is watching over Jester’s shoulder. She, thankfully, understands the same way Caduceus does and even sends a wink as she loudly proclaims, “Oh my gosh Essek I’m so tired, I think Caleb needs someone to dance with, go to him.” She extends her arm, releasing him, and his levitation doesn’t allow him to stumble at the abrupt change in momentum.

Essek and Caleb meet and Essek steps to the ground gracefully as Caleb holds his hand out and pulls him in.

Nobody says anything for fear of spooking the delicate peace that settles over both of them as they gently turn, but Yasha slows the music she’s playing a bit and a quiet celebration is shared in the eyes of the rest of the Nein.

Caduceus breathes a sigh of relief and Jester sits herself beside him, bringing an overly sweet juice she’d found on her travels for him to try. She tells him stories into the night, and the wizards never let each other’s hands go.

#shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #caduceus clay #critical role #the mighty nein #cr fanfic #critical role fanfiction #tm9 #my writing #omni writes #my fic #a little worried this is ooc for Cad but also I think he's just treating them like he'd treat his siblings #eventually you just gotta push people in the direction they're heading

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years

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Hi! I was wondering if you could do some Romano + Prussia x royal reader (separate) headcannons? I'm a sucker for a good forbidden romance and would be happy to see what you want to do with it. Thank you!

Yes, of course! Sorry for the kinda late response--I got carried away writing other things. What a coincidence that I've been doing a lot of exploring in fantasy! The reader is referred to as she/her.

Forbidden Romance Headcanons - Prussia and S. Italy

Prussia - The earnest pickpocket and sheltered princess

Unfortunately, Gilbert is on the wrong side of history. As an albino, he's been an outcast ever since he was born. In an age of superstition and class divide, his parents had no problem abandoning an extra mouth to feed. Especially when they were a demon with magical powers. Left to fend for himself as a baby, he only ever survived thanks to the generosity of an old neighbor. When they passed away due to old age, he had to get on by himself on the streets. Stealing, lying, whatever it takes to get some quick cash. And he's been doing it ever since he was five.

He loved fairytales ever since he was a kid. His guardian always told him these stories before bedtime, after all. They said it was good luck to give the princess a flower, and he remembered this a few years later during the royal parade in town. Pushing through the crowd of onlookers, he held out a small dandelion hoping you would take it. Before the guards could swat him away, you took the flower with a smile. All you remembered from that time was a small and dirty face gleaming up at you. And, of course, a pair of striking red eyes you would never forget.

In his adolescence, he became a thief with quick hands. It wasn't until he took on the most dangerous job of all did he make himself a public enemy. Stealing the royal family's jewels. And he would've gotten away with it if he wasn't forced to take a detour through the princess's bedroom. Unbeknownst to him, you were wide awake. Immediately, you recognized him as the little boy from that day. Without thinking, you hid him in your wardrobe until the guards left. That was the start of a strange friendship forged between two people from two worlds--a dirt-poor criminal and the well-loved princess of a thriving kingdom.

He visits you from time to time by climbing up the side of the castle. When he first did it, you practically throttled him by his collar, screaming, “Do you have a death wish? They'll throw you to the lions if you get caught!”. He simply responds with, “The awesome me never gets caught! That's why I'm here, ja?” Soon, this becomes routine until you learn to trust him.

Gilbert loves gloating about his adventures as a street rat, whether it's about singlehandedly beating up gangs of bullies or outrunning the palace guards. As a sheltered person of royalty, his stories reflect experiences alien to you. But it opens your eyes to things you've never seen, and it's very fascinating.

If he's not telling grossly exaggerated anecdotes of his greatness, he'll bring in board games and cards he “borrowed” from his friends. You've never played with them before as your parents deemed them unrefined. It fills him with pride to see you enjoying yourself so much, especially when he's teaching you how to play.

You don't go out very often, so he always brings back little trinkets and souvenirs. When you found out he stole them all, you would hit him on the head and tell him off. “Where did you get these from? Stealing and giving these to the princess--do you know how stupid that sounds?” Then, you would pinch his cheek until he tears up and admits his wrongs. “I-I thought you would like them, okay? I wanted to give them to you as a present...” The next day, you would accompany him to the shops he robbed and pay the owners back.

He gets upset and embarrassed when he realizes those gifts aren't gifts at all. Not when you paid for them yourself! One of the ways he shows affection is through giving gifts, but that unfortunately clashes with not having money. So he's eager to make something out of himself, even if he has to work as a bottom feeder and face unfair treatment for what he looks like. When you find out, his boss gets one hell of a time dealing with you. After that, he uses whatever small amount he earned to buy something for you.

As he grows out of his old habits, he becomes more honest. In fact, he's so determined to prove himself that he shows up one day with a homemade board game scribbled out on a spare piece of parchment. He's nervous and twiddling his fingers, and that's when you know you have to help him get back onto his feet. He's so touched by your kindness that he shows you a secret he's been hiding forever--he can do magic. It's one of his skills that let him become so good at stealing in the past.

After some practice to touch up his abilities, you try convincing your parents to let him work in the palace as an all-rounder. With the magic dancing in his fingertips, there's nothing he can't do. He has a green thumb, good reflexes, and the horses in the stables listen to him better than the caretaker! He can't forget that you encouraged him to let go of his doubts and previous identity as a petty thief. There's nobody in the world he looks up to more.

On the night of your eighteenth birthday, he's invited to a ball to celebrate. Once again, he finds himself anxious to see you in your dress, especially when he's quite glammed up himself with his suit and hair slicked back. While you teach him how to dance, he tells you he looks ridiculous. But you think otherwise and make it explicit. That's when Gilbert realizes he's completely smitten with you. He embarks on another journey to improve himself until he thinks he deserves you.

South Italy - The plebeian pâtissier and renegade royal

War has ravaged the kingdom and eaten into the state's reserves, leaving inflation rates at an all-time high. The suffering middle and working-class take it up to their rulers in a coup d'état, killing the king and queen. And now, they're searching for the princess amidst the chaos of an ungoverned dominion. Romano couldn't be more indifferent to such a cause, only ever caring about putting food on the table. He works day and night helping out his family's bakery, making what he can to get by. However, he's forced to take a side when he finds a girl on his doorstep on the verge of starvation.

Unable to turn away someone in need, he nurses you back to health. However, he does so with spite, wondering to himself why he has to give what little he has left to a princess. When you feel better after a few days, he's eager to send you off but changes his mind as you leave. Romano can't bear to let you face certain death, or worse, knowing how bitter the townspeople are about the unpopular war. So he welcomes you back with a sharp sigh with his head turned away. “Alright, alright, you can stay. Now stop making that pathetic face, you spoilt principessa--it's depressing.”

He relays a few house rules as conditions for keeping you around. You have to help him with chores. Cooking, cleaning, sewing, everything. Considering you always had someone doing those tasks for you, you're hopeless at it. He'll swat your hand and show you how to do things right with an annoyed scowl. “No, no, no, no, no! You're doing it all wrong. This is how you do it. What do they even teach you in that palace, huh? Books? Maths? Books about maths? Well, they won't keep you alive, you know!”

Because he's so observant and strict, he's a good teacher, and soon, you get the hang of everything. Before, he had to open his mouth to correct you every few seconds, but now, he can just watch you do his work with his arms crossed. It's a little demeaning to have someone watch your every move, but inside, he's relieved you're finally fitting in and not a complete waste of his time and resources. In reality, he never wanted to send you off and hoped he could just handle an extra mouth to feed. Not that he'll ever tell you.

When you're out and about, he makes you wear a cloak to hide your identity. When he's forced to interact with people, he'll hold you close and play everything off without arousing suspicion. Even if your hood falls off, he won't react--he's screaming inside in panic, but he's a great actor when he needs to be. You're totally not the princess, just a crazy similar doppelganger. The cloak is there so that people don't make a fuss. When they leave, he'll turn to you and scream how much of an idiot you are. But really, he was just worried to death--and you have a feeling he was. So you hug it out and leave him cussing with a red face.

As you two grow closer, his cousin Antonio notices how much he cares about you despite his efforts to hide it. It's a problem. He approaches him and warns that if people found out he was hiding the princess, he would get killed with her. Romano heats up and screams, telling him that he already knew what he got into the second he let you into his home. When he's asked why he's still keeping you around, he responds with, “It's not fair that her parents fucked up, and she has to face the consequences. Just like how I never wanted to run this stupid bakery--I wanted to be a painter, not burn my hands in the kitchen all day!”

Unbeknownst to him, you overhear the conversation. The next morning, he discovers that you're gone and loses his head. While he's screaming and crying, he's swarmed with the possibilities of what happened to you. He's a bit of an overthinker, but his paranoia is deserved--were you taken away in the middle of the night? Are you even still alive? He spirals down a path of self-loathing until he confronts how much he misses you, then his regret of never being frank with his feelings. Romano didn't understand what he had until he lost it. To say this was a wake-up call--to be more honest with himself--would be an understatement.

A week later, you return unscathed. Turns out, you left to stay with the owner of a paint shop owner your family always supported and bought from. You present him with a gift of some high-end oil paints, brushes, and canvases. When he sets them all down, he'll pull you into a tight hug, and once again, tell you how stupid you are. While he has you in his coils, you smile to yourself as you pat his hair, happy that you also got something in return. Some transparency. “I just thought I'd give you something... For all the trouble.” You'd say, and he'd shush you with a few hard kisses. “You were never a trouble. I wanted you to stay, so I'm more to blame than you.”

As the political situation of the country calms down, so do the anxieties of angry neighbors pounding on his door. You return to his home much to his content. Now that you're just as good as him at icing cakes, you spend more time running the bakery. This gives him some time to paint, and he can't be happier. Once you both get settled, he discovers another hobby on top of making art. Making coffee! The bakery evolves into a café lavishly decorated with his paintings, and it becomes the most popular establishment in town. You both realize how overrated it is to want to be anything more--you never bring up your title ever again.

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thetriggeredhappy · 3 years

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(I love all of your writings) one of Scout's voice lines literally broke my heart. The one in the Birthday mode which said that no one came to his birthday :"((( the fact that he called everyone his best friends make it sadder. Can you write about that a little bit. I know that you have written about his birthday before but can you do one more pleaseeeeeee

birthday boy time

(warnings for alcohol mention, mention of violence, and injury)

“Happy birthday, lad,” Demo greeted, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed by. Scout lit up, calling back a greeting in return.

Call him a sap, but he hadn’t quite given up on having fun birthdays yet. He’d heard it a hundred times from most of the rest of the team, that you stop focusing so much on your birthday when you get older, but not this guy. Scout was determined to actually have a nice birthday.

That being said, he knew by then, after those first few years working with the team, that they had a bit of a history of not necessarily being 100% on board with doing a whole thing purely because someone was a year older, and he mostly settled for bugging some of the team into going out for drinks or ordering a bunch of pizza and playing board games, stuff like that. A hundred times more low-key than what he’d do if they were in Boston, but hey, he took what he could get, and it usually ruled anyways.

To be honest, he didn’t even really have plans that year. He’d said as much when he was asked earlier that week. It was the middle of the week, not all that close to the weekend, so going out with everyone was pretty much off the table, as was getting drunk considering they all had work the day after. He was gonna head into town and get himself a gift, that was most of his plan, maybe hang out with everyone later on too. He’d been saving his money for a while, a just-in-case fund that he’d been working on for a few years, a luxury he didn’t have growing up, and didn’t tend to spend much money on himself outside of snack food and Bonk and sometimes comic books or little things like that. It would be nice to get himself something he really liked. That alone was plenty of excitement. Not an adrenaline kind, just a regular, nice sort of thing.

Overall, he was honestly just thrilled that apparently everyone actually remembered this year, greeted all morning by similar casual “hey, happy birthday”s, including a particularly excited one from Pyro, who hugged him and spun him in a few circles outright. He had plenty of time next year to do some really sick birthday stuff, but overall, he was just gonna chill out, treat himself for once, and relax.

“Alright everyone,” the Engineer said grimly, half an hour previously, casting a look around the room. “Here’s the plan.”

The team minus their fastest member were all gathered around the debriefing table, and this time, rather than Miss Pauling with official orders or Soldier with the latest new strategy, it was the Engineer standing up front holding a piece of chalk.

“We’ve been over this, Toymaker, twice weekly all month,” Demo drawled, rolling his eye.

“I know that, but this is important,” he stressed.

“It is true,” Heavy rumbled, nodding solemnly. “This is big deal.”

“We can’t afford to let this one get mucked up considering our history,” the Engineer said firmly. “Every year it’s somethin’. This year we aren’t taking any chances, especially after that catastrophe last year.”

A groan from the team as they collectively remembered. A nod from the Engineer.

“We’re lucky Firebug was the one to ask why Scout was in the kitchen combing the cabinets and not one of us, otherwise he would’ve found out for sure. If he knew we all forgot his birthday, it would crush him,” he said emphatically. The team looked embarrassed as a whole, while Pyro looked particularly mortified. “And we can’t just buy the damn kid a few pizzas and hand him alcohol like that was the plan again this year.”

“Fortunately for all of you, I’ve been so generous as to look into a few things,” Spy piped in, pausing to take a drag from his cigarette.

“As if you won’t take any excuse to snoop,” Sniper mumbled, and was glared at.

“I resent that remark,” Spy scoffed. “Regardless. I happen to know that we’re in luck, and that Scout is planning to go into town for a short period of time this afternoon. For what purpose, I’m not sure. But it should mean we have plenty of time to set everything up.”

“I trust you all have gifts ready?” Medic asked, and received a general murmur of agreement, and made a check on the paper he had attached to a clipboard. “Ja, ja, that is good. Herr Demoman, Pyro, you are done with your baking?”

“Cake is baked, iced, and decorated,” Demo nodded, Pyro giving a thumbs up of agreement.

“Soldier, how are decorations?”

“Acquired and prepared for deployment!” Soldier barked, holding up a hand in salute.

“Doc, Heavy, you two were meant to run interference,” the Engineer said, and the two nodded. “With that not a worry, how about you help with the cooking and decorating?”

“Heavy can do this,” Heavy agreed, and Medic nodded as well, jotting down a few notes on his clipboard.

“And the snake was gonna help with anything that went wrong, and Sniper, you were gonna help with headed into town for anything we needed last minute,” the Engineer said, and received nods from the two of them.

“Do we need anything so far?” Sniper asked.

“No, we’re fine for now. And I’ve got my own setup handled,” the Engineer said, and nodded a few times to himself. “Alright. Sounds like we’re golden.”

“Ja, very good. Herr Spy, would you keep an eye on Scout and let the rest of us know when we can begin getting ready?” Medic asked.

“Obviously,” Spy said.

“Alright. Now go on, get, he’ll be wondering why we’re all running late, act natural,” the Engineer said, shooing them all from the conference room.

Later that day after battle was over, Spy dispersed news not long later that Scout had gotten changed into civvie clothes and gone into town on his bike, and they all leapt into action. Within half an hour, the decorations were ready, streamers and balloons in every direction, the table unfolded from their storage (only used when they needed to seat the entire team, which wasn’t often) and was set up with the cake, ready to have candles lit, the presents were stacked neatly, the Engineer had set up the new sound system he’d been working on (put into crunch time to have ready for the occasion), everything was set up and perfect. The only thing they still needed was Scout.

They settled in to wait, knowing town was a good twenty minutes away, thirty if he was headed to the better one. By the time he found everyone, Spy said that it had been about ten minutes, and they took around thirty to set everything up, meaning that Scout would probably be at least another ten minutes, maybe as much as half an hour. Spy would keep his eyes open and warn them when he came back, but in the meantime, they could relax while they waited.

In the meantime, Soldier and Demo attempted a few ‘finishing touches’ (putting party hats on his more docile raccoons and setting out some firecrackers and sparklers, respectively), and some of the other members of the team sat to play cards for a bit. Pyro, easily the most antsy, burned their way through the box of matches that sat waiting next to the cake one by one and started idly playing with their lighter when they ran out, occasionally lighting some of the extra candles.

Half an hour came and went. Forty minutes. Fifty. An hour.

They asked Spy if he had any word yet. The answer was no, and the visual of a few cigarette butts littered around Spy’s feet and a scowl.

The Engineer played a few song requests on the sound system. Soldier switched around party hats on the raccoons to better suit their personalities. Demo lit a sparkler and let it burn out. They switched card games.

At the two hour mark, the concern was starting to build in all of them. Maybe Scout went even further than any of them had expected. He hadn’t told any of them to wait up for him, to be fair. But he always told them outright if he wouldn’t be back for supper, and he hadn’t said anything, and should’ve been back by then. It was getting well into sundown.

“I am preparing to declare Scout as officially AWOL,” Soldier mumbled somewhere near the two/and-a-half hour mark, just a bit angrily, adjusting the party hat on Corporal Munch where it was crooked. Demo patted him on the shoulder to console him.

“He’ll get here when he gets here,” he assured, going back to fiddling with a party popper.

“Don’t waste those,” the Engineer warned. “And no queens, Go Fish.”

A groan from Medic. Demo shrugged. “We have some extra. Here, just to liven her up.”

He tugged the string on the popper, setting it off and sending a short shower of confetti onto Soldier, and that was where it all went wrong.

Corporal Munch, startled, made a little yelp-like noise and quickly clawed up Soldier’s chest, startled and attempting to escape. Soldier tried to grab on harder, but that just made the raccoon even more alarmed, and it rushed to clamor faster, digging claws in hard. Heads turned in time to see Soldier losing his grip and the animal rushing away towards the nearest enclosed, dim space, which just so happened to be the table Pyro was sitting at with the cake.

Pyro leapt up from their seat, battle instincts kicking in for a moment, and the movement startled the Corporal, who veered suddenly and crashed directly into one of the chairs, toppling it and the one directly next to it and making the entire table jerk.

Pyro, panicked, quickly grabbed the cake stand before it could fall over, dropping their lighter and the candle in their hand. The two things landed on the tablecloth, and by the time Pyro realized their mistake, they’d already lit the thin paper tablecloth on fire.

Shouting around the room as teammates attempted to leap into action, Pyro trying to save the cake from the fire first and foremost, Soldier attempting to catch the Corporal, who was only becoming more freaked out over time. Heavy moved to snatch up some of the other flammable items off of the table, but misjudged where Pyro was moving, and Pyro collided with him, the cake tumbling from the stand and directly across the both of them. The Corporal, entirely confused on the commotion, attempted to claw into the space under the cards table, making Medic yelp as his legs were torn into, Sniper rushing to try and catch the animal as well. Demo, having found the fire extinguisher, realized he was a bit late as he tried to put out the table, most of the tablecloth gone and the fire having spread across the streamers, and he tried to put out what he could, and it was only with the Engineer’s cry of dismay that he remembered, oh, right, those streamers were on top of that shiny new sound system, weren’t they. With a final puff, the ‘Happy Birthday’ sign went up in flames and was gone, and the team was left there in the wreckage.

Spy rounded the corner into the room, eyebrows furrowed from the commotion he’d heard. When he saw the smoking, foamy, cake-y remains, all he could do was sigh, kneading at the bridge of his nose. “Something new every year, is it?” he drawled.

It took them the better part of forty minutes to clean up the mess, and even then, the room had a weird smell to it. By the end of everything, all they had was one of the undecorated practice cakes Pyro had baked, some party hats, and some poppers. And by the time they were done cleaning up, Scout still hadn’t returned.

“At least he doesn’t have to see what a damn mess we made of things,” the Engineer sighed, and that seemed to be the consensus.

It was much later that Spy finally let them know that he’d seen the headlights of a motorcycle coming up the road, and the team just sighed, too tired to work up much energy. Some of them at least planned to call out a ‘happy birthday’ at him, but all they could do was stare when he walked into the room.

“Hey, guys,” Scout croaked, attempting a smile through a bruised lip.

“What the hell happened to you?” Sniper demanded, taking in the sight.

Scout was busted up in a number of different ways. What looked like a former bloody nose and a swollen lip seemed to be the worst of it, an amount of blood all down Scout’s front, staining what looked like one of his nicer civvie shirts beyond repair. There was also a dampness to his shirt and hair and a stain that implied he’d been splashed with something, practically drenched by the look of it, and he carried himself just slightly off-balance and held a bag in the arm not cradled to his abdomen.

Despite that, he managed a laugh, a lopsided grin. “Man, what the hell didn’t happen to me is more like it,” he said, shrugging. “Had a weird one.”

“Are you alright?” Medic demanded, already standing up, from his chair, and Scout shrugged again.

“Just bruises and all, it’s not an emergency or whatever, but I’d appreciate a heal or somethin’,” he admitted, and Medic left the room, hurrying towards the infirmary. “Forreal, though, what a fuckin’ night.”

“What’s on your shirt?” Spy asked, entirely deadpan, looking vaguely disgusted.

“Uh, I think it’s a margarita?” Scout said, glancing down at it and picking at his shirt vaguely. “I, uh, I should start from the top. Okay, so I went into town, right? I was just gonna buy some stuff real quick, and I got, uh… I got a little lost.”

“A little? Scooter, you’ve been gone all day!” the Engineer admonished.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. There was construction on the usual road, I think they’re fixin’ a bridge or somethin’. Anyways, I got pretty far off track, but I got to town eventually. Just took a while. Anyways, I do my shopping, but because I was all rattled from havin’ to take a hundred detours I totally forget that there’s this one guy at the store that hates my guts, and I’ve gotta split pretty fast before he knocks some teeth out, y’know?”

“Do we want to know why he hates you?” Demo asked, a bit of humor in his tone.

“Nope,” Scout said simply, grinning right back. “So, yeah, but on my way into town I saw at the bar they have some kinda thing goin’ on, right, some kinda weird drink special. So I figure, hey, I’ll walk in, get the new drink, then I’ll leave, y’know? I don’t wanna have to drive home after dark and drunk. So I order, and as soon as I order some guy who’s been at the bar too long already starts tryin’ to pick a fight with me, right? And it’s a whole thing, and I finally get my drink but now there’s a whole thing, and I kinda make this offhanded comment at this gal nearby, y’know, tryin’ to make sure he knows we’re in a public place, all ‘hey, you’re really gonna embarrass yourself by pick in’ fights right in front of this real pretty girl?’, right?”

“Oh no,” Sniper sighed, already seeing where this was going.

“Well, yeah, bad luck, turns out that’s his girlfriend, and he shoves me into some guy, and I get a whole drink all over me, and mine is all over some third gut, and this whole brawl breaks out—anyways, busted lip and no drink and I’m probably not allowed in that bar anymore, but whatever, I finally start headed home.”

“Right,” Spy said, suspicious.

“And, uh, I never wanna drive at night because there’s all these animals out here, right? And the roads are shitty. And I’m headed back, and it’s dark as dicks, and I think I see this rock and I try and go around it, but then the rock moves back in my way because it’s a lizard or whatever and I hit the breaks and swerve straight into a pothole and just barely manage to keep on my bike, but I donk myself on the handlebars and totally throw my leg out of wack and all that. And, uh, and now I’m here.”

“Christ alive,” the Engineer marvelled.

“Bad day to have,” Heavy said, also stunned.

“Hey, it’ll be a funny story to tell later,” Scout shrugged, still grinning. “Got those new shoes at least, though.”

He pulled a shoebox out of the paper bag, and the box was dented into some kind of new parallelogram, barely resembling its past shape. Scout, meanwhile, was still smiling.

Silence in the room. “Well. While it is unlikely you need any more excitement today,” Spy trailed hesitantly. Pyro, understanding the cue, leapt up and hurried off into the kitchen, coming back with the cake.

“Woah, seriously?” Scout asked, eyes lighting up. “You made me a cake? Mumbles, you’re the best!”

“We, uh… we had more planned, but, some things went a little wrong,” the Engineer admitted, and trailed off as well as he looked at Scout.

“Not that we get to complain,” Demo laughed, seeming to come to the same realization as the Engineer.

“Are you joking? This rules!” Scout said, and lit up further when Medic returned with his Medigun, shaking off his injuries within a few moments. “Hey, thanks guys, seriously, no idea what I did to get such cool teammates. You guys are awesome, I mean it.”

“Dunno how we got a bloke like you, either,” Sniper shrugged, voice quiet compared to the rest of them. “Not many people can laugh after a day like yours and still have the energy to be pleased with anyone.”

“Aw, hey, I mean… y’know, it’s nothing,” Scout shrugged sheepishly, glancing away for a second. “Hey, you guys are playin’ cards? Deal me in! Oh yeah, hold on, we need plates and stuff for cake—“

He dropped his bag near the door and hurried into the kitchen. The room was quiet behind him. Demo held up a party popper, glancing around the room. The Engineer took it from him, shaking his head.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #que?#my fanfiction #shut up me #everybody talks

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unchartedthelostlegacy · 3 years

Text

surprise

I know that jealousy’s a perfect waste of time, crooned Dessa from the speakers.

Truth be told, Nadine didn’t know how she could still hear it from the other room, what with two sentient Premier League jerseys masquerading as her cousins Matthew and David proceeding to destroy the apartment in their new cleats.

“Lekker!” shouted one or the other now, as the ball hurtled out of Nadine’s bedroom and she heard a thud from within. The boys clack-clack-clacked out into the living room as the ball hit the table’s corner. Nadine, on the couch, flicked at it with her paperback, knocking it away.

But left to my devices...

“Tie your shoe, Matthew,” Nadine called, turning a page. David giggled as he caught the ball on his sweat-drizzled forehead, his brother ducking to lace the studded Adidas boot. Not an indoor soccer shoe, let alone an indoor shoe--but the smile on each boy’s face when they ripped into their presents had been enough to convince her to let it slide.

...I’ve spent far too long wasting mine...

The taller, quiet boy on the same couch piped up. “That song is sad, Nadi.”

“When did you learn English?”

Boitumelo smiled at her, secretively. As usual he had stolen someone’s baby, and the child’s bubbling laughter in his arms was another reason Nadine wondered why she could still hear the music.

Some children loved cats or dogs, but Boitumelo’s favorite animal was babies. He wanted to be a pediatrician when he grew up, and everyone whose baby started to cry at the braai would soon find him at their side miraculously calming it. He was the baby whisperer, and instead of needing to be looked after like the others, he had volunteered to help Nadine with the child-avalanche while most of her aunts went to the movies.

“How long has it been?” Nadine put her book on the table, chuckling. “Stand up, let me see how you’ve grown.”

“Nooo,” Boitumelo said, but he did anyway, cradling the baby in his left arm. Nadine held his shoulders, scrutinizing him like a diamond.

The effect was that Matthew and David paused their natural disaster. They flanked him, standing on tip-toes. A laugh tumbled out of Nadine as she let go. “Not a contest, ja! I see you two every week, ‘course he’ll grow faster!”

The child knocked on his chest lightly with the hand that wasn’t supporting an infant. “It’s because I am Motswana,” he said with a serene smugness.

“Hey!” Matthew punched his shoulder “You can’t even speak Tswana!”

“Don’t hit him,” Nadine said sharply. “You want those cleats locked up in my safe?”

Matthew pouted, and Boitumelo merely secured the baby, indifferent.

David hugged him.

Maybe they should be together more after all, Nadine thought. Maybe I’m a bad influence on these ones.

“C’mere, Matthew. Help me make lunch.”

“Aww, no!”

Nadine gave him a stern look as she walked to the small kitchenette. She could at least keep an eye on the other kids over the counter, and set their plates out on it when they were done. Matthew followed, cleats making sad clack-clacks on the tile.

He preferred this punishment to losing them, but not by a lot.

“We don’t hit our family,” Nadine murmured as he sorted the rice beside her. She’d set the lamb, the tomatoes, the onions on the counter and began working on them with the knife. “Not even if we’re jealous.”

“I can do that,” Matthew said. He was pointing at the meat.

“Can you do it safely?”

“Nadi! I do it at our house!”

Nadine chuckled. “You might--” and then stopped, frozen, because someone had knocked on the door.

To the boys, this was perfectly ordinary. Knocks happened to doors. But Nadine wasn’t expecting anyone, and her first thought was the Desert .5 in the safe. The next was the fact that the kids were all closer to the door.

“I will answer,” Boitumelo said in Tswana, flashing a smile at Matthew, who wrinkled his nose.

“Boys, I will,” Nadine said, washing her hands at breakneck speed, snatching the hand-towel and moving around the counter. “Boitu, sit down, the baby--

But the boy smiled that same smile at her as he slid open the lock and tugged it open, and English--CNN-newscaster English, for crying out loud--poured from his lips. “Hello, how can I help you?”

Nadine held her breath as she walked quickly, heart pounding, and her hand was just brushing the safe when another voice answered Boitumelo in the same language. With an accent.

A very familiar accent.

“I’m...sorry, I must have the wrong house.”

What...the hell...are you doing here, Frazer?

The sight of the beautiful Indian-Australian and her red sweater and faded skinnies put David and Matthew into a competing orbit. They crowded around the front door behind Boitumelo, David ducking under the baby to look at her. Nadine paced out from beside the door and murmured as she kissed the top of all three heads, “I told you not to talk to strangers, ja?”

“’Stranger’,” Chloe said, eyes narrowing as she shook her head, “Nice to see you too, ‘stranger’.”

“Is she selling us something?” David asked, confused, and Nadine cracked into chortles, causing Chloe to blink in confusion.

“She is your friend, Nadi? You are very pretty, miss. My name is Boitumelo,” said the baby-whisperer, again in English. “This is David and Matthew, and I am looking after Lavi,” he nodded once toward the child in his arms. Boitumelo was proud of his charges. Lavi was looking at Chloe with possibly the widest eyes of all the boys, but it was close.

“Oh nice to meet you! I’m Chloe. Funny of you not to introduce me, Nadine. Stop being grumpy, I know you want a hug.”

Nadine shook her head as she stepped back, and the boys followed her lead, eyes glued to the woman who stepped inside and wrapped their grown-up in an embrace.

“You’re either late,” Nadine muttered, raising her arms to hug Chloe back after a moment, “Or you show up unannounced.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“You wanted to be a selfish--”

“Careful, children present,” Chloe said brightly. Nadine shook her head again, releasing her treasure hunting partner a bit reluctantly in spite of herself.

But Matthew and David--English proficiency be damned, they spoke FIFA--grabbed and energetically shook her hand, insisted on showing their moves off, knocked over the basket of garlic freestyling with the ball, somehow got it on top of the fridge. Having curled up on the couch, Chloe gamely tried to fight her laughter. Nadine set a can of Castle lager from the fridge on the table in front of her and went back to the kitchenette.

Where she found Boitumelo finishing sorting the abandoned rice, the baby esconced in the high chair by the counter.

“Nadi, I want to travel with you and meet people too,” he said softly in Tswana.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. No, you’re staying here and getting good in school.”

“But, when I am older,” he said. “You meet all sorts of people, don’t you? I want to go to America like you did.”

“Yes,” Nadine sighed. “I want you to go there too. But only if you want to, because you can study here too, Boitu.”

God, she hated thinking of Boitumelo’s future already. He was older than the soccer hellions, but no, was he going to be off to university that soon? Where had the time gone?

Lavi whined, and Nadine opened his little hand to give him a slice of tomato to hold. He squished it immediately and brought it up to his face.

“Why did you do that?” Boitumelo was laughing at her.

“Ja, this is how he develops fine motor control,” Nadine said, returning to chopping. “I’ll boil him an egg and chop it up for him too. He needs the omega-3s.”

It didn’t occur to her that they had switched back to English until she saw Chloe had snuck in behind them--the woman did have talent in that regard--and was leaning on the fridge, beerless.

“What a well-behaved child,” Chloe remarked.

“Please forgive her,” Nadine muttered with a groan.

“Oh I--I didn’t mean--Nadine what--for God’s sake, what did I say this time?”

Boitumelo was laughing as he rolled up his charge’s sleeves, and Nadine finished dropping the ingredients into the pot.

Chloe said, defensively, “I just never saw a boy help with cooking like that. Honestly.”

Boitumelo, for once, was speechless. He met Nadine’s eyes as her lip curled; it wasn’t that Chloe meant to offend. She was just...well...Nadine didn’t know all of what Chloe was yet, other than beautiful and impulsive and courageous and deeply lucky to compensate for it all. Blunt. Maybe that was the word. Both the opposite of sharp, and capable of impact, in good and bad ways.

“Nate didn’t even make you dinner?” Nadine flashed her a grin as she patted Boitumelo’s shoulder.

The effect on Chloe was instant, as in, the moment it took Nadine to press a couple of buttons on the rice cooker, Chloe’s whole face had turned red. Her perfect rows of teeth--how she hadn’t lost any when Nadine had given her a fist-shaped parting gift during their big fight in India, only God knew--were visible in a line.

“I’m sorry, Boitumelo,” she said with a swallow. “I didn’t mean that. It looks like I said something...wrong.”

“Oh, it’s all right,” the boy was marveling at her. “It is just normal in our family. Maybe it wasn’t like that in yours.”

Oh.

This was why Nadine couldn’t stay angry at Chloe long. It was less guilt and more that her heart went out to Chloe, as she brushed back past the woman to the sink muttering, “Go on, have a sit and drink.”

“In front of the children,” Chloe said pointedly.

Nadine scoffed “Think you can handle a lager.”

“Let me do something.”

Because Chloe had been an only child, and she had lost her father, and Nadine wasn’t sure if he had helped cook.

#chlodine #nadine ross #snippet #uncharted: the lost legacy #chloe frazer #angst #jealousy #romance

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for-a-muse-of-fire · 4 years

Text

oh, but you’re good to me

the wench and the witcher

"oh, but you’re good to me”

Fandom: The Witcher (2019)

Paring: Geralt of Rivia x Black!OFC - Zahra Auberel. Platonic!Jaskier x Zahra.

Summary: Midaëte brings the height of summer, and a reconciliation.

Warnings: Rated Mature due to brief mention of sex. Please don’t interact if you are under the age of 18.

A/N: Well, what started as a simple reader insert character grew into a fully-formed OC through the course of this series. And now we have reached the end! Well, mostly. I have some random outtakes and drabbles that I’m sure will crop up, but my (eventual) multi-chapter will feature Geralt and Zahra as they navigate some... interesting magical developments.

But, for now, I call this the end of The Wench and The Witcher. Thank you guys so much for your kind words, reblogs, likes - this is honestly the most I’ve written in years and knowing that y’all have enjoyed it warms the cockles of my heart. Title and lyrics under the cut from Hozier’s “Would That I” which I think might be my favorite Hozier song full-stop, hands down.

@coconutxraikage - @onyour-right - @ly–canthrope - @kianya-loves - @c-s-stars - @gczanetti1 - @alwaysnatz - @agniavateira - @owillofthewisps - @hina-chans-stuff - @yespolkadotkitty - @wastingmypotential - @inber

With each love I cut loose, I was never the same Watching still-living roots be consumed by the flame I was fixed on your hand of gold Layin' waste to my lovin' long ago

“Contracts from the butcher and the miller,” Lucja rattles off. “And Jaskier returned your message – says he’s very much looking forward to performing for the solstice festival.”

She gives a hum as she thumbs through the stack of papers on the desk. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you, as well,” she teases.

Lucja’s pretty round face goes pink, making her employer grin. The older woman pauses when she finds an unfamiliar piece of folded parchment among the stack of invoices. Slim brown fingers unfold the sharply folded letter and suddenly her heart is in her throat. “Lucja… where did this come from?”

“Oh… it, ah, came with Jaskier’s reply. Do you want me to get rid of it?”

Though half-tempted to let Lucja burn the letter, she bites her lip and shakes her head. “No,” she murmurs. “Thank you, Lu’ – that will be all.”

Her young barmaid flashes a sympathetic smile and closes the door behind her. The neatly looped scrawl of the letter makes something around her heart ache. She’d always been surprised by how tidy the Witcher’s handwriting was:

I don’t

This isn’t what

I’m not – fucking shit fuck

The first time I saw you, it was like walking into the light of the sun after half a lifetime in the cold. And it was so fucking cold that night.

You were like summer.

It’s cold again now, without you. I don’t know what I’m doing

Two weeks later:

I wanted want wanted to bring you to see Kaer Mohren. I know you said you like the ocean more than the mountains, but I think this place could change your mind. You would get on with Eskel like a house on fire. He’s more of a southerner, like you.

I told him about the time you tried to teach me to cook and he nearly pissed himself laughing.

Lambert’s a shit. Vesemir already likes you.

You’d like it here. The kitchen is nearly as big as the whole front room of the tavern. Library’s bigger.

Garden’s a fucking nightmare, though.

We could go to the ocean, too. Anywhere you want.

The missives don’t come with any real regularity. A few at a time, a week-long gap, but they never stop. She thinks about writing back, at first, but deciphering where the Witcher is would likely be impossible and… gods, she’s still so damned angry. The White Wolf receives no reply.

Regardless, the letters keep coming.

The thing is, I don’t know what else there is besides The Path - this life of slaying monsters and getting paid in coin. I was told that was all I needed and I believed it for a very long time. There was nothing to challenge that, not until I met you.

You were are so fucking beautiful. And warm, and bright, and vulgar, and kind, and a pain in my ass and I should have told you how much you meant to me, but I couldn’t parse it out until just now, and I am an idiot. And a coward. I thought that telling myself you were an amusement would be enough, that I would be content with warming your bed, but I can’t do that anymore. I can’t keep lying about how much I need you.

I need you, Zee. It feels like I’m missing my fucking sword arm.

The words on the page blur together. She brushes them with her fingertips, almost smiling even as the tears catch in her lashes:

I miss the way you laugh at Jaskier’s dirty songs.

I miss the way you used my legs to keep your feet warm at night.

I miss that fucking rabbit stew.

I miss the way you’d look at me when I walked in the door.

I miss the sounds you make when I’m inside of you. The way you taste.

I miss your eyes. And your smile.

Your voice. Your terrible fucking singing.

You are my home. You’re my harbor and my safe haven.

I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.

---

Midaëte approaches. With it, a week’s worth of festivities, and food and drink, leading up to the day of the solstice. It means early mornings in the kitchen and late nights in the tavern. The evenings are balmy, windows and doors thrown open to allow the scent of summer air and night-blooming flowers to drift through.

For a time, she is so busy that she forgets to be heartsore. Geralt’s letters – page after yellowing page – sit tied with a gold ribbon in her desk drawer. Confessions and apologies, promises and rambling stories that she keeps picking up to read again and again. It’s a veritable book, more than he’d ever seen fit to say in person and she’s not sure whether to be infuriated or hopeful, but there’s barely time. Thank the gods.

Business booms, between trades-folk coming in for the market day, then musicians, then families. She drinks a little, dances when there is time; she lets Lucja weave tiny yellow purple flowers into her hair for Midaëte Eve and dresses in white and yellow to enjoy the evening. Or try to, at least. The main room is full almost to bursting, patrons laughing, carousing, and eventually spilling out into the courtyard to dance in the falling dusk.

Zahra watches from the doorway. A few try to tempt her into the circle for a reel and they receive a grateful smile with her refusal. Jaskier, however, will not be deterred.

“You, dear lady,” he croons. “Look too lovely to be hiding in the shadows.”

“Jas…”

“One dance. Just one – you might even have fun by mistake.”

She rolls her eyes, but the bard just grins and lifts her hand for a kiss. He leads her, hand-in-hand out to the courtyard; Jaskier gives a nod to his fellow players and they begin with a sharp beat that eases into a lovely, familiar melody.

“You know this one, ducky?” Jaskier queries with a smile. She nods and he takes the lead.

It’s a simple step, to start with. A sweet back and forth to match the sweet, flowing verse of the song. The touch of Jaskier’s hand on her low back offers guidance, keeps her moving in gentle circles around him until the real movement begins. Swinging, agile steps carry Zahra and her partner around in wide loops. The mingle with other dancers, threading hands to spin back together and then apart.

Jaskier grips her waist across the front, and she follows suit. The dizzying spin turns the world into a wash of summer colors for a moment and she can’t help but laugh. It feels good to be light again.

The bard turns her under his arm and into the hands of the next man. There’s a moment of hesitation, a moment where she considers bowing out and going back to her corner, but the tabor still thrums in her blood and it’s such a beautiful night.

Still smiling, she curtsies, and is lead back through the steps again. Her partner leads easily, light of foot and loose of tongue – from her ale, more like than not – but he’s kind, and sweet, and so funny that she’s nearly in tears when she’s suddenly spun away to her next partner. She catches the fabric of her skirts to add a flourish to the spin; the soft yellow cotton dances with her.

When spins to a stop, she sees black, at first. Matte black buttons, black tunic shirt – worn, but cleaner than it usually is. The silver wolf’s head medallion sparks in the torchlight.

Zahra looks up into the face of Geralt of Rivia and the music goes dull behind the roar of blood in her ears. It feels a bit like standing on a ledge cliff and looking down to gauge the fall. She feels dizzy, and terrified, and wonderfully breathless. Heart in her mouth, she spies Jaskier out of the corner of her eye.

The bard grins. Bastard.

“Zahra…”

The Witcher’s voice rumbles through her like soft summer thunder. Strong fingers grip hers, and he lifts her knuckles to his lips. His honey-gold eyes are more earnest and honest than she’s ever seen them – he asks the question without moving his lips. Zahra nods.

Geralt leads her in the dance and everything falls away.

She hears the music, feels it sing through her, but her focus remains on the white-haired mutant at her side. His hand spans her back, warm through her dress and stays; the lightest pressure of his fingertips, or palm, guides her to turn, or step, or pivot in time with him. It shouldn’t be surprising to her, how well he moves – she’s seen him fight, and his grace with a sword, and how would dancing be any different? He doesn’t look away from her once and the heat of his gaze flushes over her. The Witcher very nearly smiles.

Geralt turns her under his arm, guides her through the last few measures of the song. He steps away, takes his warmth with him, and bows. Zahra curtsies in return.

The crowd, the rest of the world, rushes back over them. The townsfolk whistle, and stomp, for a moment determined to swarm in and start up another country dance, and Geralt grips her hand tight for a moment. She sees him hesitate before he asks, simply, “Can we talk?”

Most of the party has spilled into the streets, leaving the tavern itself practically empty. Lucja still keeps to her spot behind the bar, green eyes going wide when she spies Zahra and her guest in tow. The girl’s pretty face splits into a knowing smile that makes Zahra’s face go hot.

It’s mostly dark in her study. The small hearth fire has gone to smoldering embers, and it gives her the opportunity to light a few candles and collect her utterly scattered thoughts. She flicks out the last taper and finally looks up at Geralt. He stands just inside the closed door, just as he used to. It’s familiar – it feels like it’s been years, or decades, or maybe just a few hours. His honey-colored gaze still holds a heat that sings over her skin. She drops her eyes to the desk.

The last letter sits there, creased and folded from how many times she’s read it. Zahra picks at the parchment. Keeping her focus on Geralt’s neat lettering seems easier than looking at the Witcher himself. “Did Jaskier put you up to this?” she teases half-heartedly.

Geralt exhales on a chuckle. “Something like. Threatened to garrote me with a lute string.”

She smiles, in spite of herself. When she lifts her head and meets his eyes, it takes a moment to catch her breath. For a few heartbeats, she simply stares. Gods, he is still so beautiful. She swallows hard and feels her throat go dry.

“Did you mean what you wrote?” she asks.

“You know I did, Zee.”

Gold eyes go guarded again. He doesn’t go totally cold, but she can see the way he builds up his walls to prepare for the worst. He steps forward. Second-guesses – stops.

“What I do – what I am – I can’t change it,” he rumbles. “I’m still a Witcher, Zahra. A mutant. I can’t… I can’t give you normal, sweetheart – ”

“Gods, Geralt - fuck normal.”

---

“Fuck normal.”

She says it with such passionate certainty that it startles a laugh out of him. The soft yellow of her skirt floats like woven sunlight around her legs. Like the sun, it almost hurts to look at her, but fuck all, that’s all he wants to do. He watches her face, watches her chew her lip; feels his slow pulse try to speed up when she steps closer. His fingers itch to curl around her waist.

“I never asked for normal, Geralt,” she whispers. The way her voice cracks pulls tight around his heart. “I don’t want normal. I want you. That’s it. Can… can you give me that, or no?”

The Witcher’s footfalls carry him to her. He studies her face; re-acquaints himself with the curve of her cheek and the dimple that presses there. She all but melts into his touch when his thumb brushes her cheek. He pulls her into the circle of his arms. She’s still soft, and warm; he closes his eyes, feels his muscles go lax with relief when she holds fast, locking her arms around his back. Geralt presses his face against the smooth curve of her shoulder.

It feels like stepping into the light of the sun after ages in cold and rain. “I love you, Zahra,” he breathes.

Her soft, tearful laugh settles warm into his heart. “I love you, Geralt.”

He gives a pleased murmur, lets the tip of his nose trail lazy circles over her shoulder. When he inhales, the warm, soft smell of her skin eases back into his lungs. From shoulder to neck, the Witcher draws in slow breaths and ghosts his lips over the exposed skin he finds until Zahra shivers. “What are you doing, Witcher?” she whispers, breathless.

“Hmm… taking your scent back,” he mumbles. “I missed this smell.”

His lips ease along the shell of her ear. She still gasps when he nips at the crux of her jaw. “I missed you, love,” he growls.

Geralt takes his time. He savors the smell and the taste of her skin, humming lowly when Zahra’s hands grip at his back. The sweetness of her begins to bloom with heat, with the richness of desire – want – and when he sets his teeth gently against her pulse point, she moans delicately. Insistent fingers tangle in his hair; she whispers his name and pulls him to her lips. She kisses him like a woman starved and it feels like his heart might thunder its way free of his chest. He lifts her onto the edge of the desk and comes to stand between her parted thighs, gathering the soft yellow cotton of her skirts up. Her fingers yank at the buttons on his trousers.

It’s a quick, desperate of coupling. Mingled breath and bitten off sighs – greedy kisses with fingers gripped in the front of his shirt. She flutters hotly around his cock with a whimper and a curse. He groans against her mouth when he comes. Zahra drinks down the noise with a grin on her lips.

Geralt stays put for more than a year. It’s good.

The Path still calls, and he still follows, but she finds she’s able to let go of the fear. It’s no longer a question of ‘if’ but ‘when’ in terms of Geralt’s return. And if he knows it’s going to be a long journey, or if the mood simply strikes him, he writes -

I miss you.

I love you.

Sometimes no more than a line, sometimes full paragraphs – even pages – but he always tells her when he plans to return. When he’ll be home.

It’s nearly spring next time he rides back in, market day in full swing as he passes through the township gate with Roach at his side. Vendors call their wares, families and merchants wander the stalls as he peers out from the shadow of his cloak. He finds the trail of Zahra’s scent past the cloying smell of cut flowers and rounds to corner to find her chatting with the butcher’s daughter.

The younger woman catches his gaze. Geralt watches the girl grin and give his woman – his woman – a nudge, nodding in his direction. Zahra is already smiling when she turns, and the Witcher has the pleasure of watching her face flash from surprise to joy in the space of a heartbeat. She moves to him, a walk that becomes a jog, and then a final sprint that launches her into his arms. He curls his free arm tight around her waist. Immediately, he has his face pressed to her hair. Zahra’s laughter rings softly in his ears when she draws back, just enough to look up into his face.

At her throat, the polished wolf’s tooth is bright against her brown skin. “Welcome home, my love,” she murmurs.

The greeting settles warm over him like the sunlight. Geralt pulls her close again, kissing her in full view of half the town. She shivers sweetly in his arms and pulls her fingers through his hair. He hears a wolf-whistle, and a smattering of applause that makes Zahra giggle against his mouth.

“People are staring,” she teases softly.

He smirks. “Let them,” he tells her before kissing her once more. She tastes of clover honey.

She smells of sunshine.

She feels like home.

#geralt of rivia #geralt x oc #geralt of rivia x ofc #geralt x ofc #the witcher #oc: zahra auberel #orignal character #the witcher netflix #fanfic #fanfiction #the wench and the witcher #tutu scribbles

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sethrine-writes · 4 years

Text

Devil-sitter May Cry, Ch. 7

Pairing: Dante x F!Reader, Vergil x F!Reader (Undecided)

Words: 2071

Warning: Vergil being Vergil

Story Summary: Low on cash and desperate for a job, you reply to a flyer for a babysitting position. Little did you know that the opportunity to watch over two special boys would bring your life so much mayhem and adventure…and, perhaps, a chance at a family of your own.

A/N: Whew, what a hot minute it’s been for this bad boy! I’ve not forgotten, just merely had a bad case of the “wtf should I do next?” But I got it figured out! Let’s get into the thick of it, shall we?

------

Chapter 7 - Not Necessarily Needed

Finding things that both V and Nero could eat together had become somewhat of a challenge for you.

Nero was the child every parent hoped for - nonplussed by veggies or fruits or temperatures, and cleared his plate every time with absolutely no fuss. V was the complete opposite, finding issues with flavors and textures at nearly every meal time and only eating small portions, though you could hardly blame that last part on taste and more on his underlying medical conditions.

Since taking up babysitting them, you felt you were starting to learn how V operated, taking careful consideration of the things he wouldn't eat and asking what it was he didn't like about the foods he ignored. It was quite the conundrum, but you were more than willing to learn how to incorporate things in a way that would be more enjoyable for him during mealtime.

So, you had promised to make the boys a special dinner that they would both enjoy, keeping exactly what it was a secret, much to the lament of two curious minds. Another evening scheduled for babysitting meant you would be in charge of dinner for the boys, so it was the perfect time to try it out.

Luckily for you, the little grocery store on your way to Devil May Cry wasn't terribly crowded. The inside was much bigger than you anticipated, however, longer rows of nicely lined canned goods and sections for both a tiny little meat market in the back and a nicely stacked produce section immediately to your right.

Despite yourself, you were immediately drawn to the stack of packaged strawberries on display, their sweet scent enticing you into grabbing a carton, and then a second one, for good measure. They would make a great snack later into the evening, and both Nero and V seemed to love them, much to your relief.

You smiled at the thought of the two boys, remembering what you had set out to get in the first place and beginning your trek through the store to find the ingredients you would need.

Peering down the aisles, you scanned the shelves slowly and with purpose, almost missing the pair of familiar faces at the end of one aisle and having to do a double-take when your mind caught back up with you.

It was rather odd seeing Vergil, of all people, in a grocery store rather than at the shop. It was almost just as strange seeing him dressed down from his usual get-up, though the nice slacks and collared shirt looked very becoming on him. He also seemed a bit more relaxed, though you weren't completely sure if it was because of the different environment, the clothing, or that he simply felt more comfortable-

You were staring, you realized rather abruptly, blinking a few times as you reorganized your thoughts, almost wanting to laugh at how easily your train of thought had derailed.

With an amused huff, you moved towards the pair, catching V's attention as you got closer. His eyes lit up considerably, and you were sure he was smiling excitedly, though it was thoroughly hidden behind the simple cloth mask shielding his face from his cute little nose downward. It was a necessary precaution, you knew, but it still felt like a crime to hide his sweet smile from the world.

"Papa, look!" he exclaimed excitedly while tugging at his father's hand, breaking away seconds later to excitedly wrap his thin arms around your legs.

Vergil didn't appear too worried that V had wandered away, and part of you had a feeling that the demon hunter already knew you were approaching almost as soon as you stepped foot in the same aisle.

"Hey there, V," you greeted with a chuckle, carding your fingers through his hair as he pulled back to look up at you with happy eyes. "I was just on my way to the shop, but I had to stop to get a few things. Looks like you and your dad had the same idea, hm?"

"We don't have anymore soup," V lamented, leaning a bit heavier against you in a feigned show of dismay.

"Truly a tragedy," you answered with a mocked tone of seriousness, smiling and winking at V when he peeked up at you. His following giggles were too precious for words.

"Where's your partner in crime, huh? Surprised I haven't seen him yet."

"Nero stayed home with uncle Dante," V explained, his voice lowering to that of a not-really-at-all whisper as he added, "they're working on something secret."

"Vitale," Vergil spoke suddenly, his tone baring a light warning. V gasped and popped his little hands over his mask-covered mouth as he moved back to his father's side. His eyes still held a giddiness to them when he looked back up at you, however, so he wasn't in trouble, just being reminded to keep the secret, whatever it may have been.

You looked up at Vergil, then, who seemed to still be focused on the selection of canned soups before him, seemingly deep in consideration, though you knew better than to doubt how very much aware he truly was of his surroundings.

"I'm surprised to see you without your, ah, katana," you spoke as a means of small talk, hoping you had remembered the style of his sword correctly.

"It tends to frighten the public without need of it," he replied matter-of-factly, eyes darting to you for a fraction of a second. "Why are you here?"

The question caught you off-guard, and for a moment, you felt as if you were being reprimanded for something you didn't know you had done.

"I...well, I had an idea for a dinner the boys would both like," you explained while looking down at V and smiling, "or, well, I hope they do, at least. I just needed to pick up a few things before-"

"You're not needed, tonight."

The statement alone shouldn't have made you feel any sort of way, really, but Vergil's intimidating self made it feel like a jab in the chest. It was just the way he was, succinct to the point of almost too harsh, too serious at times, but it still hurt for reasons you could not explain.

You were well and truly confused.

"Dante said you both had a job-?"

"It was canceled this morning," he answered. "Dante tried calling you, though claims you did not answer."

Your brows furrowed in further confusion before realization dawned on you.

With a quiet, barely muttered curse under your breath, you reached for your cell phone in your pocket, flipping it open to find you had three missed calls and a voicemail from the shop, of which you had labeled DMC in your contacts. From the time stamps, he must have tried to get a hold of you right after you left for the bus.

“This stupid thing,” you groused, frustrated and just on the side of embarrassed for basically having left the house for no reason.

“I’m so sorry,” you started aloud as you pocketed your phone once more, “I should have looked before I left the house. Stupid ringer hasn’t been working properly...oh, but that’s no excuse. I guess...I guess just give me a call on my home number the next time you guys need me.”

An apologetic smile crossed your lips as you looked down at V, who seemed to understand that you wouldn’t be visiting that day and held a particular kind of disappointment in his gaze.

“I’ll see you in a day or two, okay, kiddo? Say hello to Nero for me.”

You then looked back up at Vergil.

“Sorry, again. I’ll be more mindful to check my phone before I leave the house, just in case this happens again.”

Unsure how else to end the conversation, you gave a curt nod and turned around, mumbling about how stupid you were for not having checked your phone, of all the days to forget, c’mon, it really had to be today?

As you began your walk of shame down the aisle, you were unaware of the way V looked at his father imploringly, tugging lightly at his wrist to gain his attention. You missed the way Vergil caught on to the look his son was providing, missed how the usually stoic man’s intense stare followed you for a short moment, how his calculating gaze actually softened just a fraction...

"We don't have plans."

You paused in your retreat, turning back around to fix yet another confused stare on Vergil, who looked rather stiff all of a sudden despite having done nothing but intently look over the cans of soup before him.

"I'm sorry?"

"For dinner, that is," he clarified, gaze cutting over to you briefly, purposefully. "Nothing set in stone, though knowing Dante, he'll want to order in, as usual. It's quite tiresome, eating from the same three places everyone can agree on."

There was a moment of silence as you ruminated on what was said, feeling as if, perhaps, you were missing something. You may not have known Vergil very well, just yet, but you knew enough to figure that he wasn't much for saying things without intent, and it definitely felt like there was some intent hiding somewhere in his words.

Vergil's eyes cutting over to you once more had you jumping into action at their piercing intensity, stepping closer subconsciously and speaking nearly without thinking.

"W-well, uh, I did have plans for dinner...for the boys, of course," you stammered through, hoping you had caught on correctly to what was being implied behind his words, "and it'll be another hour or so before the next bus comes around. I'd be more than happy to cook for everyone, if you don't mind me waiting around."

You could see the line of Vergil's shoulders visibly relax, his posture not as stiff as it had been before, and it took you a moment longer to realize that the seemingly apathetic man had actually been nervous over what you would say. The knowledge alone was nearly jarring.

There was no way a man like him would be nervous over a woman like you. What a silly notion!

"I've no doubt no one would object to your presence, or your cooking, if the praises of young minds are anything to go by," Vergil responded coolly, "though for your recipe, do keep in mind how voracious the two at home can be."

"I've seen how much Nero puts away," you mused with a chuckle, "so I can only imagine what Dante is like. I'll make sure to double everything."

"If cost is any concern," Vergil spoke up suddenly, finally meeting you head-on for the first time during your impromptu meeting, "I'm prepared to cover anything you hadn't anticipated in your budget."

The sincerity behind his words was...actually rather sweet, if you thought about it. Granted, you hadn't anticipated needing to double the recipe, but you were certain you had enough to cover everything you needed. Still, that he had offered to pay the extra was actually very kind of him.

"I should be able to cover it," you answered with a smile. "Dinner's on me, tonight. You can cook for me, next time."

You meant it as a joke, following up your nonchalant words with a light chuckle. It was a moment too late that you realized your joke could have been misinterpreted or in poor taste, however, and you nearly spluttered in your haste to rectify yourself.

"Oh, I-I didn't mean it like- what I meant was-"

"It would only be fair," Vergil cut in, his icy gaze having moved back to the canned goods as he finally selected something from the shelf and placed it in his hand-held basket.

"Right, yes," you agreed in a rush of breath, mentally hitting yourself for being so damnably awkward in that moment.

You were a trainwreck, truly. And it wasn't even a Monday!

"I'll just...go grab everything, then. I'll, uh, meet you at the strawberries when I'm done?"

You were met with an affirmative hum, followed by V's excited little gasp as he looked up at Vergil, speaking for the first time since you had addressed his father with a much more chipper outlook.

"Ooh, strawberries?! Papa, can we get some?"

Perhaps you would only need one carton of the fruit, after all.

------

Tag List: @v-vic, @astridstark13

#dmc #devil may cry #dmc dante #dmc vergil #dmc nero #dmc v #dmc au #kid nero #kid v #reader #reader-insert #female reader #babysitter au

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nightwingshero · 4 years

Text

I was tagged by...*checks smeared writing on hand* @dieguzguz @returnofthepd3 @goodboiboomer-fc5 @faithchel and @risenlucifer thank you lovelies!!!

Tagging: @simonxriley @xbaebsae @joeyhxdson @v3ryvelvet @fadedjacket @ja-crispea @seedlingsinner @minilev @red-nightskies @chazz-anova @fromathelastoveritaserum @tomexraider @smithandrogers @saltntheair @shallow-gravy and whoever else would like to share! I don’t know who has been tagged or who hasn’t.

And as you can see, I’m experimenting with edits...I’m not sure it’s going well lmfao

1) who can outdrink the other?

They can give each other a run for their money, that’s for sure. But due to the fact they both have a history of having drinking problems, they usually keep it casual and slow.

2) who says “i love you” more?

That’s a tough one. They both like to express their affections, but I would say Wren. Once she got comfortable with voicing her emotions without fear of judgement, she can’t help but randomly blurt it out when John is focused on something or just relaxing. It comes out of nowhere and he smiles, either throwing her “I love you too” or “Yes, you do” with a teasing smirk on his face.

3) who has trouble sleeping alone?

Wren, hands down. She didn’t have the issue as much with the Resistance, but there were sleepless nights, for sure. But once she’s with John, sleeping with him is a comfort. Something she has to have to feel safe. Wren gets super lonely without him there. John doesn’t like the empty bed, but Wren won’t fall asleep fully if he’s not there.

4) who swears more?

Wren!!! All the way, that girl...ugh, I’m telling you that her vocabulary is littered with it. John does here and there, and it gets worse when he’s angry. But Wren does it on a daily basis, especially when talking to herself while focused on something. “Now how the fuck do I do that?” “This shit is too damn confusing.”

5) who does more of the housework?

Both. They share responsibilities and help each other around the house. Wren and John don’t let the responsibility fall on just one person.

6) who forgets their anniversary?

Are you kidding? Forget the anniversary? Hell no. John goes all out for that, and Wren starts planning her gift to John months in advance. Those two take it very seriously.

7) who steals the duvet in their sleep?

Wren is more inclined to do so, it makes her feel more safe. But she��s always curled up to John, so he wouldn’t really suffer too badly.

8) who keeps the other awake at night with their snoring?

Neither of them, actually. They don’t really snore. Wren makes little soft noises and talks in her sleep though, and that amuses John greatly.

9) who finds stray animals and begs the other to let them keep them?

Wren. She insisted they keep Peaches and Boomer, because she didn’t trust anyone else to look after them. No, don’t ever get John wrong. He may make a huge fuss about it, but Wren sees him sneaking them treats and talking to them while working on his plane.

10) who usually makes dinner?

John. Wren can’t cook to save her life, and nearly burned down their kitchen trying. She’s banned from cooking for life.

11) who plays their music out loud?

Wren does. Music has always been her passion, so she’s either singing, listening to it out loud, or playing and singing on the piano. John doesn’t mind at all, in fact, he enjoys it. He loves her voice and loves to see her happy. Plus, he secretly thinks she has good taste.

12) who hogs the bathroom?

The bathroom is huge and has a double sink, so they both can do their thing without hogging it completely, so they get ready together. It sometimes depends on who takes the longest, depending on if Wren is doing her hair or makeup and if John is doing his grooming routine.

13) who gives the most compliments?

John. Wren kinda needs praise because of her traumas as a child, but she knows and understands that John needs it too. I mean, it could really be a tie, since they’re both sweet talkers, but John does it more often.

14) who usually starts/causes arguments between them?

Wren will start an argument, but John is the one that causes them. He may do something Wren doesn’t agree with or become too arrogant, and she responds fast to it. It smooths over with apologies, and they move on from it. It doesn’t happen very often. But sometimes Wren can start it by being super emotional and lashing out at John. There’s usually a long talk after that, because she just doesn’t know where her feelings are coming from, and they work that out.

15) who isn’t afraid to embarrass the other in public?

Wren and John keep up good appearances in public, that would never be a thing. They wouldn’t humiliate each other like that, it’s disrespectful to them, especially with their roles as Heralds. Now, family and close friends...that’s a different story. Wren and John tease each other relentlessly, and Wren will prank John now and then.

16) who gives the other cringe-worthy pet names?

They both do. Wren comes up with the corniest things, just to get him to cringe. John does it to embarrass the hell out of Wren. She gets red real fast.

17) who fusses over the other when they get sick?

Both in different ways. John won’t go out and work, but he will stay and work in his office. Wren has to stay on him to make sure he actually rests. John attends to Wren when she’s sick, making sure she’s well taken care of. She just tells him “See? This is what resting looks like. Remember that the next time you’re sick.” He never does.

18) who finds it impossible to stay angry at the other for long?

John. Wren can hold a grudge, man. And she will cling to it for a while. John can’t stay mad at Wren, and if she’s mad at him, he’ll bug her until she talks about it, because he knows her well enough that she will bottle it up if it’s not talked out.

19) who clings to the other for comfort when they’re sad or scared?

Wren clings to John like he’s a life preserver and she can’t swim during her panic attacks. She’s hysterical, hyperventilating, and can’t move. Her hands open and close rapidly, and she has a hard time speaking while going through it. She just cries a lot. John helps her through it, holding her and whispering to her. And its the other way around too. They both suffer nightmares, they both are there to comfort. They understand each other, know well enough of what the other went through, that it’s easy for them to just be there for the other.

20) who is more ‘physically passionate’? (hugs, kisses, or maybe more…)

That depends on the situation. John is extremely passionate, and he often instigates the more intimate stuff, and Wren definitely doesn’t complain one bit. John is also...kinda touchy. Not like, groping or anything, but more like a passing touch. He’ll lightly touch her arm while walking by, lean around her to get something and place his hand at the small of her back. Little things. Wren is more about the hugs and kisses, and they’re random, but John looks forward to them. Wren is notorious for surprising him with a quick peck on the cheek or hugging him from behind.

#deputy wren blake #john seed #far cry 5 #my oc

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v3ryvelvet · 4 years

Text

20 OTP Questions!

Thanks for the tags @returnofthepd3 @nightwingshero @mackie-hattwie!

Tagging: @ja-crispea @f0xyboxes @fadedjacket @xbaebsae (sorry for any double tags!)

Also big thank you to @returnofthepd3 for the stunning moodboard!

1) Who can out-drink the other?

John for sure but that doesn’t mean Maggie would give him a good battle. It’s not often they’re heavy handed with alcohol but when they are, more often than not it ends with John carrying Maggie to bed.

2) Who says “I love you” more?

Mixed bag. John was more vocal in the beginning about it but soon finds that Maggie says it at the end of every radio call, when she’s drowsy in the morning when John leaves her to head to work.

3) Who has trouble sleeping alone?

Maggie. She has been used to being alone for sometime but once her affair with John started and she started falling asleep with him, the more they were apart the harder she found it to doze off without him by her side.

4) Who swears more?

Definitely Maggie. It sneaks in without her realising it, her colourful language often making John laugh. He of course too swears however it seems to only make itself known when he is frustrated or when they are intimate.

5) Who does more of the housework?

Probably both. John does his fair share around the ranch but is definitely laid back about it. Maggie likes a tidy space but she’s more pernickety about it.

“Why are the dishes just sitting in the sink?”

“They’re soaking, darling...”

“Next time you offer to the dishes, just do them, John.”

6) Who forgets their anniversary?

Oh, neither of them! John is a big romantic at heart and goes out of his way to make the day special for Maggie.

7) Who steals the duvet in their sleep?

Maggie. She has a habit of curling into the duvet and making herself into a bit of a burrito. John meanwhile sits at the very edge of the bed, not quite content to freeze but he knows better than to try wake his Maggie.

8) Who keeps the other awake at night with their snoring?

Neither, really. Both will occasionally snore if they’ve had a drink but not enough to keep the other up.

9) Who finds stray animals and begs the other to let them keep them?

Maggie. You can bet wherever they go there is always a cat or a dog at Maggie’s heels. If he wasn’t so enamoured by her it would almost be annoying.

10) Who usually makes dinner?

John much to Maggie’s surprise. On the rare occasions when John would open up to Maggie, she discovered that cooking relaxed him. More often than not if Maggie finds a fresh loaf of bread in his kitchen it means he’s had a bad day. Maggie is a pro in one thing: pies. She sticks to these for the County bake sales, when she’s had a bad day or when John is unwell.

11) Who plays their music out loud?

Maggie does. She loves to sing in the shower or when they’re driving and of course that means loud music.

12) Who hogs the bathroom?

John, John, John. Maggie is used to being in a rush and her routine is quick with little time to spare. If her red hair isn’t curled and wild around her face it’s thrown up into a bun. John meanwhile...Well, you’ve seen his hair and beard.

13) Who gives the most compliments?

John. With Maggie’s shaky upbringing, praise and compliments were a rarity so he likes to tell her just how he feels, plus, how can he resist the blush on her cheeks whenever he does compliment her.

14) Who usually starts/causes arguments between them?

More common for things to boil up between the two of them. Passive aggressive comments before it topples into an argument. A good thing about John and Maggie is that once they have worked out the argument they’re back on form usually quite quick and are sure to solve any arguments before going to sleep or leaving the house.

15) Who isn’t afraid to embarrass the other in public?

Embarrass probably isn’t the word I’d use, John and Maggie wouldn’t do anything to embarrass that would result in humiliation. John doesn’t have any qualms however in calling her pet names in front of certain people who know of their relationship.

16) Who gives the other cringe-worthy pet names?

As above, mostly John. It’s not that they’re cringy, tending to stick to darling and honey but her favourite is still her own name. Maggie still isn’t used the sound of her own name, she’s so used to the people of Hope County referring to her as Deputy, Rook or by her surname that whenever John uses Maggie she still feels her cheek redden.

17) Who fusses over the other when they get sick?

John mostly. He hates the idea of Maggie being unwell and wants her to recover as safely and quickly as possible, so while Maggie tries to leave the house it often ends with John dragging her back to bed and placing a cup of hot tea under her nose with aspirin. When John is under the weather he’ll tend to sulk about it but Maggie knows not to bite at his irritableness and instead leaves him to nap while serving his favourite dish of apple pie to try cheer him up.

18) Who finds it impossible to stay angry at the other for long?

Maggie. By God, does she try to keep a straight and stern face whenever the moment calls for it but John is one smooth talker and once he has apologised it’s not long before she’s smiling into her hand and playfully shaking her head in disapproval.

19) Who clings to the other for comfort when they’re sad or scared?

Both. John and Maggie have both had turbulent childhoods and into adulthood with very little in the ways of family and companionship. Even though John has found his brothers he feels like he can’t quite open up to them the way he can with Maggie.

20) Who is more ‘physically passionate’? (hugs, kisses, or maybe more…)

John for sure in the beginning. Once their relationship started it was hard for John to keep his hands off Maggie, not that she was complaining. As their relationship grows John learns that Maggie is more soft in her approach, wakes him up with kisses to his cheeks and forehead, drops into his arms as soon she’s home for a much needed hug.

#Deputy Maggie Sloane #john seed #John x Maggie Sloane #Far Cry 5 #far cry 5 fanfiction #far cry 5 oc #far cry writing #far cry fandom #v3ryvelvet #otp tag game

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sockablock · 5 years

Text

Once upon a time, @inkedinserendipity tagged me in a post by @superssonica asking what would happen if Caleb got a bit too used to the Polymorph spell.

Seren, you monster, this one goes out to you:

- - -

Beau disappears into the clouds below the branches, trailed—then outpaced—by a second crack of thunder.

After a moment, the massive boughs sway. A few leaves tremble, then fall still.

Caduceus takes a seat in the newly-sprung grass. Yasha joins, sheepish at his side.

“My wings were not made for flying,” she mumbles. “I think I will just stay on the ground.”

Nott tugs on Caleb’s sleeve. “I kind of want to go,” she says. “Do you have a way to get us up?”

He follows her gaze. He considers the tree. He mulls over a mental list of spells, then rummages around in his pouch for silken string.

The tiny cocoon gleams silver in the light.

He gives Nott a smile.

“Ja, sure. Hop on.”

—

Caleb is flying.

He’s never flown before, only seen and heard through Frumpkin’s eyes, back on the safety and security of the ground. But for a person, for a human, for the child of a farmer and a soldier, long ago, he’d like to think that he’s not doing a bad job.

The skies seem to tug at something deep within his soul, something feral and instinctive, something finally freed, something soaring, something lifting, something wild—alive.

In this euphoria, he tucks his wings close, driven on by a craving he’d never felt before.

He spins into a barrel-roll, diving through the clouds, Nott on his back, screaming—maybe it’s a cheer—all he really knows is the rush of the wind, the thrill of the ether, the endless expanse.

It is beautiful, so high in the clouds.

His mind lets go. There’s no need for control.

It is empty. It is peaceful.

Serene.

—

Later on, he turns back into the same bird to ferry Beauregard up to the nest. He lingers in the form a bit longer than needed.

It’s to save spell slots. You never know.

—

They arrive in Bazzoxan well after dusk and fall into the first and only bunks they can find. Jester and Caduceus look well enough tapped, and Fjord still occasionally plucks gravel from his chest. Yasha and Beau are as unfazed as ever, but this is as much of a habit as an act. Nott is fretting somewhere in the background, still searching desperately for her flask.

As far as evenings go, this one is fairly standard. It has been nearly a year since the Mighty Nein assembled, and all of these bustling midnight sounds are just a part of the familiar nightly song.

But when the lamplight fades, Caleb cannot sleep. He lies there, unmoving, eyes open in the dark.

He cannot stop thinking about what he’d done that morning. He cannot forget the way that it had felt.

Of course, he cannot forget anything. He’s never been able to, never known how.

But for that a minute, for that hour, for that daydream in the breeze, it had been so wonderfully easy.

—

He changes a few more times during the trip. Once towards the tomb, once within, once to dive past narrow, winding stairs. He mostly sticks to eagles—he knows them, they’re safe, and a part of him fears the uncertainty of other shapes.

He remembers the story that Jester had told about becoming a moth. She hadn’t been able to control her mind. She hadn’t been able to focus her thoughts. He remembers being a giant ape, and knowing nothing but the adrenaline and the bloody haze.

To a wizard, to a scholar, to a son of the fields who’d crawled his way up through sheer brains alone, this is something that rips at his core. It is horrifying. He must avoid it at all costs.

Still, though, he wonders, at dusk, by the campfire, as he stares alone into the flames:

What would it feel like? How far could he go?

His fingers brush a tiny cocoon. It glimmers faint and gold in the light.

—

They go home. To a home, anyways. They report to the Queen and her stance does not change, but Caleb’s convinced that there’s a new nod of care, maybe fondness, for their motley crew. They have continued to serve the Dynasty well. They have continued to help the Krynn win the war.

And gods, if the reports can be believed, the Krynn are winning this war.

She allows him to see the Vollstrecker.

Caleb’s soul is still rattled when finally, he leaves.

—

He goes to bed alone that night, alone in his room on the first floor of their house.

His mind is a well of isolation and regret, of a churning desire for a wish he’ll never have, of plans and ruminations, more distant by the hour, of dreams, calculations, memories long and past, all flooding, all filling, overflowing, overmuch, much, much too much—

He drags his fingers down the sides of his head, sweat dripping from the tangle of his hair.

He needs air. Breathe. He needs air.

Below the silence of the ever-present moon, his footsteps creak against a polished floor. His palm brushes the smooth wooden banister, and then he reaches the stairs to the roof.

He opens the door.

He inhales, below the tree.

The little globes of daylight are dormant at this hour, still and cold beneath the stars.

Caleb looks up into the branches across the sky. Their tree is not nearly as large, as enormous, but still, it is familiar all the same. It makes him think...it makes him remember...

"But not a bird if it’s night,” he murmurs. “Something else, something...”

Ah, yes.

He reaches into his little leather pouch. He pulls out another silk cocoon.

He’ll have to pick up more, soon. But that is a problem for another time.

Polymorph trips off the curve of his tongue like a dream he’s dreamt a thousand times before.

And then he is nothing but a tiny, squeaking bat, a single lone heartbeat aflutter in the night.

—

The spell lasts an hour.

—

If you cast it once.

—

That next morning, Caduceus makes breakfast. Caleb trudges down the stairs.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” Beau asks, as he pulls up a chair and collapses against the table. “Did you sleep bad? You look like shit.”

“Thank you, Beauregard,” he mutters, and pulls a mug of...of something, to his face. “Your razor-like honesty is always appreciated.”

“Alright, fuck me for asking,” she scowls, and turns around to harass Fjord instead.

Nott, seated across the table, is feeding something to Yeza. It is amazing, the change he brings to her.

Caleb’s gaze drifts away. He focuses on a faint spiral in the wood, a little point of difference in a world of smooth grain.

After a while, he is aware of someone calling his name. He jerks up, just in time to see a fried egg slide onto his plate.

“Didn’t sleep well?” Caduceus asks kindly. “You, ah, I hope you don’t mind my saying, but you seem a bit tired, today.”

Caleb gives him a weak smile. “Ja, I stayed up last night. Working on...working on magic,” he adds.

Technically, it is not a lie.

However, Caduceus is hard to talk around. His eyes give a flicker, and though he doesn’t argue, it certainly doesn’t seem like he is fully convinced.

Still, he gives a nod. He moves on to feed the others.

Caleb feels guilty, and he isn’t sure why.

Then again, he muses, stabbing at his plate, there’s a lot for him to be guilty for.

He sinks just a bit lower in his chair.

—

They decide, unanimously, that despite the uncertainty, they desperately need a break before heading to the north. Another week wouldn’t be too bad, adds Jester, so one more week of downtime is had. Almost immediately afterwards, Beau grabs Fjord to train in the cellar, saying something about—I can’t let Dairon down. Nott and Yeza disappear to the lab, to steal every moment they can before they part ways. Jester and Caduceus opt for some therapeutic shopping, leaving Caleb by himself, alone with his own devices.

Three months ago, that wouldn’t have been so bad.

He drifts around for a bit, idly doing tasks, re-sorting the library and polishing the windows, making his bed and then stopping to make the others’. He even takes a whole hour to scrub their tub, draining out the water and rolling up his sleeves, getting down on both knees and working the basin with a towel.

It is noon by the time he is finished. There are still seven more hours until sundown.

There are still one hundred and fifty-one until their week-long vacation ends.

Caleb sits down at the edge of the pool. His fingers run aimless across the soapy rag as he tries desperately to think of more to do.

He even briefly debates seeing Essek.

After a little while, he stands up.

It is pointless. Nothing is as good.

—

“—and we’ve got a deal on clay, too. Great for Earthquakes, Feeble Mind, Shaping Stone, if that’s something you’re interested in. Only 10 silver for a—no?”

“No, no,” Caleb says quickly, carefully pouring the silk threads into his pouch. “Thank you, but I am well-stocked in that...regard. Er...thank you, madam.”

“Well, if you change your mind,” says the goblin, waving her hand and watching him go. “Come back soon, you know where to find me!”

Caleb does.

And he is sure that he will.

—

He deliberates only a few minutes more as he stands atop the stone wall along their tower. It is dark in Rhosana, that is the problem, otherwise a bird would be the obvious choice. Then he thinks harder, and laughs at his own foolishness, and smashes the silver cocoon in his hands.

His wings spread wide, don’t make a sound.

His eyes, large, yellow, seeing all, drink in the energy and movement of a city that he—for now—does not entirely understand.

—

He comes home that night feeling mildly rumpled, somewhat wind-swept, all his spells spent. Still he agrees, as he collapses at the dinner table, that was a long afternoon well-spent. Caduceus is cooking again, of course he is, though Nott is assisting and Jester offers advice.

The food is amazing, once it is complete. Though he eats much, much much more than he usually would, a fact that a number of his friends pick up on.

“Did you and Essek bone or something?” Beau asks. “Dude, chill out, there’s plenty more where that came from.”

Jester snickers as Fjord thumps him on the back, giving him a sympathetic hand.

“I did not,” Caleb says, affronted, and coughs one more time just for good measure. “I can assure you, we did nothing of the sort.”

“So what did you do?” Caduceus asks. His eyes, usually so dazed and relaxed, have focused onto Caleb with an uncomfortable accuracy. Damn the priest, Caleb thinks. What is this? A confession?

“We just reviewed dunamantic basics,” he murmurs, well aware of how it sounds to Jester. “I do not have any spell slots left, but I can certainly show you at a later time.”

“Firing blanks now?” Beau asks with false sympathy. “He must have really worked you hard.”

Caleb groans, and deliberately turns so that he cannot see her. Even Nott is grinning at him widely, seemingly pleased at the idea of...well, of whatever they think that he is doing.

He wonders, idly, as the conversation shifts to other inane topics, if this is because she is gently, in her own way, trying to let him go.

After all, she has Yeza now. She has a son she needs to go home to. She has a mission she needs to accomplish.

Caleb is supposed to have one too. But at some point during the months that have passed, he is trying less and less to think about it.

He has a feeling he knows why, but that does not make it any better.

—

That evening, his mind churns again. But he is exhausted, and depleted of his spells. He has to force himself to rest, even a short nap will do. He lies there in bed, undreaming, for hours, until he is finally dormant long enough to tap into his old training and conjure up a burst of magic.

It is just enough for one final spell. Time to make it count.

He closes his eyes.

He curls up against the mattress, and imagines what it would like to be Frumpkin.

—

There is no sunlight in this city, which means no morning gleam through the windows, but the distant hum of activity in the house, the far-off clamor of voices and life, signals to Caleb that the day has now begun.

And Frumpkin is there. Asleep against the covers, but stirs when Caleb starts to shift.

Very quickly, he is up and locking eyes with his wizard, draping across his lap and purring up a storm.

The sleep-muddled curve of Caleb’s mouth forms a smile. He runs his fingers across Frumpkin’s scalp, gently strokes his thumb against his cat’s fur.

“Dir auch einen guten morgen,” he murmurs. “I thought you were out enjoying yourself in the city.”

Frumpkin mrows in response and rolls over onto his back.

There is a moment, and then suddenly, Caleb frowns.

“Was? What are you talking about? Do not be silly, everything is fine.”

He absently scritches the fur on Frumpkin’s chest. But now his rhythm is a little unsteady.

“I am not sure what you mean,” he adds, after another pause for silence.

Frumpkin purrs. He opens one eye and peers at Caleb.

“I am not,” Caleb says.

Frumpkin turns over. Caleb scowls.

“I do not see why this is any of your business. And even if I was doing for that reason, it is not a harmful habit. I am just taking advantage of the skills I have learned. There is nothing wrong with that.”

Frumpkin stares until Caleb can no longer stand it. Brow furrowed, he plucks his cat from his lap and drops him onto the bed.

He says:

“I need some time alone. Do not bother me.”

—

Frumpkin is a familiar, bound by an eldritch pact. He cannot allow his master to come to harm, and he cannot disobey Caleb’s commands.

He cannot disobey Caleb’s commands. He cannot allow his master to come to harm.

Frumpkin is a familiar, and they had made a pact.

Then again, Frumpkin is also fey.

And fey do not take “no” for an answer.

—

“Gods above,” Beau grumbles, leaping to the side, “hey, jeez, calm down, already. What’s gotten into you?”

Frumpkin sits back on his haunches and yowls purposely at her knees. His tail lashes through the air impatiently.

Beau scratches the top of her head.

“Are you trying to tell me something? What’s wrong?”

She can swear that the feline is rolling his eyes. She crouches down and frowns at him.

“Is...oh, shit, is it Caleb? Where is he? Is he alright?”

—

The spell that Jester and Caduceus had woven into the ribbons of daylight on their tree illuminates the top of the tower for a few hours every day.

It is the closest thing that Rhosana has to sun, to a good and honest warmth. Caleb had decided, just minutes ago, to utilize this to its fullest potential.

He is content, here. He is basking, and at peace.

And then, just at the edge of his hearing, there is a faint disturbance.

“—what, that? Are you sure?”

The voice is familiar. Right now, Caleb can’t seem to remember whose it is, but he is vaguely irritated. It had been so quiet before, it had been so calm—

“You have to be really sure. I’m not gonna kill a random lizard.”

His little reptilian heartbeat leaps. He can sense a shadow looming over him now, all his instincts scream to run—

“Alright, alright, calm down, I’m doin’ it—”

—his muscles bunch, he gets ready to jump—

And a hand descends from the heavens above, the edge colliding with Caleb’s spine, there’s one second of awful, horrible pain, of a bright-yellow smudge staining the rocks, and then he is growing, aching, stretching, tumbling onto two legs, not four, glaring up in a light too bright and snarling at the unmoving face of Beau.

Now the physical is secondary. His mind is back, and it is angry.

“Arschgesicht! I had forty-two minutes on that spell!”

Beau doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t even respond. Instead, in true Cobalt Soul fashion, she stares him down with such a gaze that for but a second, Caleb almost feels sheepish.

Then the furry bubbles right back to the surface.

“Why did you do that?” he demands. “Beauregard, why would you interrupt me?”

“Uh, what exactly did I interrupt?” Her eyebrows are raised, her chin turned up. “Caleb, what the fuck were you doing?”

“I was—I—magic!” he shouts. He gestures wildly to the smooth stones. “I was just practicing my spells! You know you are not supposed to interfere!”

He feels something dull at the back of his skull. It is like a pressure, though rapidly fading, and as he whirls around towards the source, he just sees the tip of a ginger tail vanishing down the tower stairs.

He almost shouts. He does not, but almost. He begins to storm off towards the door, his foot falls once, hard, into the grass, but then comes a grip like iron against his wrist.

Beauregard always says that her hands are her weapons. Even Caleb, in this state, remembers this well.

“Good gods,” she says, eyebrows rising further. “Dude, seriously, what’s up with you? Why’re you pissed? You can cast it again, can’t you?”

“Yes, Beauregard,” he manages, “yes, of course, of course I can. But that is not the point, here. The point is that Frumpkin disobeyed what I said, and, and coerced you to come here. I know you are innocent here, but he—”

“Wow.”

Caleb pauses.

“‘Wow’ what?”

Beau lets go of his wrist. She takes a step back, crosses her arms, looks him over with the sudden terrible stare of understanding. “Damn, dude, I came up here because I thought you were in trouble. That something was attacking you, or something’. But I guess trouble comes in different forms, huh?”

Caleb frowns. “What do you mean?”

She points at the rocks, where he had been resting. “Sometimes it’s a lizard. I’m guessing sometimes it’s a bird? A giant one, with eagle-wings?”

His eyes narrow. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Yeah, well, I barely do either, but Frumpkin seems to think there’s something wrong. With you, I mean. And I guess with your spells.”

“There is nothing wrong with me. And there is no reason for you to think that.”

She leans in.

“You and your cat are telepathically linked.”

“And? What of it?”

“If there was something goin’ on in your head, don’t you think he would have noticed?”

“He is overreacting,” Caleb huffs, “there is nothing—”

“Come on, man, this is Frumpkin. He cares about you, he’s just worried. And honestly, based on the way you’re acting, I’m starting to worry too.”

Caleb stops.

He goes still.

His gaze falls to the ground.

“Ja, well,” he murmurs. “Perhaps you should not bother.”

To his amazement, Beau rolls her eyes.

“Aw, come on,” she says, stepping forward. “Don’t play that face with me, alright?” She prods him in the chest. “Alright, spill. What’s up? Are you still pissed about that Scourger that got caught?”

Caleb sighs. “No, no, that is not it. It is…” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “It is just...other things. You know.”

“I don’t.”

He inhales. Then he sags, finally defeated.

“Ja. Ja, I suppose that is true.”

He watches her cross her arms.

“I won’t know unless you tell me,” she says. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He feels the last of the rage drain away. His stares intently at the dirt.

“It is...I believe it is everything. Everything that has been happening. Everything that has happened.”

He falls quiet.

“I think it may be too much.”

Beau gives him a very level stare.

Eventually, she gestures to the stones. Warm under the glow of light made by a friend.

“Alright,” she says. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

They both sit. It is quiet, for a moment. And then, Caleb sighs one last time, and speaks:

“We are in a very strange place. And we are trying to...we are trying to do some very big things. Things that...as every day goes by, seem more and more impossible to accomplish.”

Beau leans against the bark of the tree.

“Yeah, I…feel you there.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow.

“What did your mentor say, by the way? How much does she know about...about the things we have done?”

Beau meets his gaze, eyes blank and cool.

“Oh, no. We’re doing your problems now. We can talk about all that later.”

Despite everything, this makes Caleb laugh. It’s nothing more than a faint chuckle, but Beau smiles back, gives him a nod.

“C’mon,” she says. “Go on. Keep going.”

Caleb tilts his head up to the boughs of the gnarled tree.

“I am...well, I am not sure. Not really. I do not think I have been, for a long time. And…seeing that V—that Scourger, it made me realize that…that for all of my memory, all my knowledge, for all the things I had swimming in my head, I realize now that I did not really have to think. I just...really, I just had to believe. I had to obey what my Lehrer—teacher, said. Really, I was not expected to think. And everything, for all its complications, everything was so, so simple.”

He glances down at the ground. Tufts of grass lay silent below his feet.

“Today, my friend, today they are not. We are...we are trying to do very big things. And we are trying to help many people. And I think that is good. Really, I do. And I think it has given me...in some ways, a...a goal. Something that seems a bit more feasible, anyway.”

“More realistic then bending reality.”

He gives a faint smile.

“Ja, you could put it that way. But, ah...but as you can likely see, that goal has gotten slightly more...complicated. And trying to stay on the right path...even finding that path itself, is not a straightforward process. It requires thought. It requires so much thought. And now, after everything, after all we have seen and tried to do, I believe...I am sure...that I am just tired of thinking.”

Beau nods sagely as his voice trails away.

“Okay,” she shrugs. “Then you should just stop.”

Caleb blinks.

“Jus—what?”

Beau sighs. “I…I dunno, man. I think, honestly, I think that’s all you need. To stop thinking about all that shit. Not—” she adds hastily, “—not in the way that you’re doing with the lizards. Not like that. But just...I dunno. When you’re being you.”

“But when I am me, I cannot do that,” Caleb says. “I have a perfect memory, Beauregard. There is nothing I can forget.”

“Oh, wow, look at you. Wow. I’m so impressed.”

“Beauregard—”

She grins and raises her hands. “Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t resist. But, uh...yeah. I guess that makes sense. That...that sounds pretty rough, dude. If I had a record of my greatest failures playing all the time in my head, I think I’d go pretty crazy too.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow.

“Now I am confused,” he says. “Is this conversation supposed to help me?”

Beau throws her arms into the air.

“Hell, I dunno,” she says. “I’m not the feelings expert, or whatever. I’ve just seen people do this kind of shit before. You’re supposed to talk things out, right? That’s supposed to...I dunno, fix things, or something?”

“Is it?” Caleb asks, incredulous. “Who told you that?”

She scratches the back of her neck. “Uh...I dunno. Probably Caduceus.”

“That seems like something that he would say.”

They fall silent for a few moments after that, drinking in the sunlight and the distant city sounds.

Then Beau says:

“I wasn’t lying, though. I don’t really know what it’s like to feel like you. I can’t imagine having a brain like yours. But...but I do kind of know what you’re going through.” He glances over, and she nods. “Yeah. I do. I think...I think it’s a pretty common thing. Maybe not in such perfect detail, but...it can be hard to stop thinking about all the times you’ve fucked up. And it can be even harder when you know that, uh...when it feels like the fate of a hundred thousand souls rests on every stupid decision that you make.”

“We have made many stupid decisions, eh?”

“God, you’re telling me?” Beau groans. The back of her head rests against the tree. “I’m amazed Dairon didn’t kill me. And honestly, I’m amazed all of us are still alive. But...I mean...I guess that’s just it, right? We’re still alive. We’re still here. And, most important, we’re still truckin’.”

She tilts one eye towards Caleb.

“We’re still here, and we’re still trying to figure it out. As shitty as it is, sometimes. As much as...as much as it hurts. And as tired as we get. We haven’t given up, and we’re still alive. Seriously, think about it in math. The odds are definitely that we should’ve died by now.”

He can’t help but snort. “Ja, absolut.”

“But we aren’t,” Beau shrugs. “And as shitty as that is, as much as it hurts, as fuckin’ terrible as it can sometimes be...that means we still have a chance. To do...whatever it is that we’re supposed to do. Or not supposed to do. And I always get pissed when people tell that I’m lucky for it, or whatever, but...I dunno. Maybe we are. And maybe it’s rotten luck for the world that it’s us, but...here we are. All of us, here we are. And...and we’ve got each other. And I won’t pretend to know what I’m doing, and I definitely don’t know...not really, how to help, but, uh. I’m here for you. Okay? Whatever...whatever you need. As long as it’s not bullshit—" she raises an eyebrow, Caleb chuckles.

“—but yeah. Seriously. I’m here. And I’ll always listen, whenever I can.”

She leans back against the bark. She closes her eyes and gives a nod.

“I mean that,” she says. “I really do.”

Caleb feels the sunlight glow against his skin, feels the warmth of its whisper brushing across his face. And there’s another light too, maybe brighter, maybe warmer, coming from either side of his form—it’s the gentle sigh of a shoulder pressed against his own, and the curling, purring softness, of a cat beneath his hands.

He glances down at Frumpkin. Then he turns to look at Beau.

Here we are. All of us, here we are.

Very, very slowly, he closes his eyes.

And it isn’t the cure. Not by a long shot.

But certainly, it’s a start.

#critical role #critfic #fic #fanfic #critrole #caleb widogast #beauregard #the mighty nein #long post #SUCH A LONG POST #SORRY IF THE BREAK FAILS #jay writes #jay tagged #seren you monster i did this for you #text #drabble #thank ya thank ya thank ya for reading!!!

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jahaanofmenaphos · 4 years

Photo

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

Read the full work here:

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QUEST 10: CHILDREN OF MAH

QUEST SUMMARY:

The Mahjarrat are dying, and they want answers as to why. To get them, they must journey back to Freneskae at the behest of Zaros, who promises them freedom from their Rituals once and for all. When Zamorak gets wind of his intentions, it leads to the two deities meeting for the first time since the great betrayal…

CHAPTER 5 - ARISE HERO

Jahaan’s first stop inside Menaphos was a trip to the Merchant’s bank, hoping he had enough coins stored away to afford the deposit on a room. Since leaving the Imperial Guard, a fair chunk of his money seemed to disappear all too quickly, and he couldn’t even remember where it went. Still, there seemed to be enough left over for a room in the Worker District, if he wasn’t picky about location or square footage. Realising that he no longer needed the shieldbow that he’d banked months ago, Jahaan decided to sell it once he got himself settled, alongside the arrows that accompanied it.

However, it turned out that Jahaan had vastly overestimated what he could afford. He knew he’d end up somewhere in the Worker District, but a tiny room in a shared house with eight other renters was something else entirely. It was a small cupboard of a room with a shabby bed frame, a badly knocked together bedside table and a rug as old as Jahaan was. There was just enough room to store his armour in a heap in the free corner, once he decided to get it out of the bank, but not enough room to maneuver beyond getting from the bed to the door. There was also no shared kitchen - no kitchen at all. Just a communal cooking pit outside.

--- It’s your fault he’s dead ---

Still, Jahaan didn’t plan to spend much time locked up in his miniature abode. While rest and recuperation were high on his list of priorities, Jahaan still needed to make money to pay rent, and he still needed to eat. No subsidies for the broken warriors. But fishing was something that Jahaan enjoyed, that he could make money from, and it was hardly anything Gaw’kara could get angry at him about. He fished enough to eat and then sold the rest to the local tavern for a fraction of what they were worth. Due to the supply coming in from the Ports District, it was the only way to get money for them. It was enough to keep up the rent for the little room he was staying in, at least. Once Jahaan’s ribs healed enough and he regained some mobility, he took up a low-paying job working in the clay mines in the Worker’s District. With the heavy sun relentlessly beating down on him every day, Jahaan reckoned he must have lost a stone’s worth of weight in sweat alone. But it helped to recover some core strength in his once-broken bones.

Jahaan lived frugally, saving every extra penny of his salary once rent had been paid, and catching his own dinner in the stream near the mines. What was he saving up for? Runes. Lots and lots of runes.

--- Did you really think there wouldn’t be consequences? ---

When he wasn’t at work, Jahaan was training, focusing on recovering his dual-wielded swordsmanship form. That, or practising the Ancient Magicks with whatever runes he could afford. Runes required for those spells were expensive and hard to come by, so he had to make every second of training count, as they ran out before long. While he made a fair chunk of change from the shieldbow and arrows he sold, Jahaan decided that money wasn’t for training purposes. Instead, he’d use that money to buy some of the runes he’d take into Sliske’s endgame.

Keeping busy - always working, always training… it was how Jahaan kept himself sane. Gods knew it was a struggle, especially in the beginning. Once the numbness wore off and he realised that he had to try and live his life now, a life where his best friend had been ripped from him…

...There were nights when Jahaan found himself quite content with the idea of drinking himself to death.

But he refused to give into the darkness inside his mind. He let himself cave once, when Cyrius was killed. That descent led him to the Imperial Guard, after a long and painful fall. But now? Now Jahaan knew he didn’t have the luxury of breaking down. Not while Sliske still drew breath.

One of the first things he bought upon renting his room was a small chalk set. There, on one of his walls, he marked out a tally. Rows upon rows of tally marks, the exact amount of days until the eclipse that would signal the end to Sliske’s game. As the days passed, he crossed out the tallies, charting the time until the final confrontation.

--- What’s your soul even worth to you? ---

Though he rarely left the vicinity of the stream, the mines and his home, one day Jahaan did take a stroll down to the Ports District, and out into the crowded and cramped neighbourhood he grew up in. It took Jahaan a lot of time to reorient himself as the area had been greatly developed since he left, but eventually he found the street he grew up on and, finally, his old house.

Jahaan didn’t know what to expect, but if he really thought about it, this was it. The small abode had been repainted a brilliant white with the roof retiled. A nice allotment in the front garden. A football in the yard. As he walked past, he saw children in the dining room, and the silhouette of a woman in the background.

A new, happy family now lived in his old home. If his uncle still lived in Menaphos was questionable, but Jahaan had no intention of tracking him down, though he hoped the man was still around somewhere. He should only be in his sixties, after all. No doubt if he went down to the docks or his uncle’s favourite tavern he could find him there without much digging.

But that wasn’t why he was back in Menaphos, so he let the thought slip from his mind.

He had no time for family reunions. He had work to do.

Namely, to continue his training.

--- It might not have been so bad, being a wight. Eternal life… ---

The Ancient Magicks were vital in the fight against Sliske. It was the only way to attempt to level the playing field. There was no point in learning shadow magick - Sliske was a master and nothing Jahaan could do would ever come close to his ability. It would be like trying to stop a landslide with a picket fence.

Blood magick interested him the most, namely because of some of the crueler spells the book hinted at. Theoretically, one could control the blood inside of another person, or at least blood that came from an open wound. Pulling the blood out slowly could feel like you’re ripping someone apart from the inside out.

Jahaan quite liked the idea of that one. In fact, a lot of nights Jahaan sent himself to sleep by imagining every little injury he wanted to inflict upon Sliske.

Jahaan never thought of himself as a cruel person - until now, that is.

--- He’ll never forgive you now ---

With that in mind, Jahaan spent most of his time practising blood magick spells. Of course, they had common barrage and blast variants too. Smoke was something he’d learned a few spells of already, so he improved his knowledge of that in case the opportunity arose. When it came to ice magick, Jahaan didn’t spend much time in that department. He didn’t want to become Jack of all trades, master of none. No, a collection of decent, hard-hitting spells to defend himself against Sliske was what he needed.

That, and a miracle or two.

When Wahisietel made it back to his humble abode in Nardah, he took a moment to embrace the calm, the quiet… while he’d only been on Freneskae a few hours, it was enough time to make him desperately miss the serenity of Gielinor. But so much had happened, too much to wrap his head around right now. He needed to relax, and decided the best way to do that was to pull out the bottle of whiskey he’d been saving in the bottom of his desk drawer. What he’d been saving it for was a bit of a mystery, but the continued survival of his race and the reassurance of immortality seemed to be fitting enough. It was a fine bottle too, a gift he received from Azzanadra back in the days of the Empire. To say it had aged was an understatement. Whiskey was always a weakness for Wahisietel. He rarely indulged in fancy foods, but a good drink was worth the hassle of getting it out of his system later.

Pouring it into his favourite tumbler, Wahisietel lit up a pipe and reclined into his armchair, allowing the stresses of the day to free themselves from his mind...

...Until he felt it.

Exhaling sharply, Wahisietel downed the first measure in one go and placed his pipe on the table, walking up to the door to wait for the inevitable knock. He shifted into his human form, lest his human neighbours see him undisguised.

After one little tap on the door, Wahisietel swung it open, glaring at the uninvited guest. “Sliske.”

Sliske smiled back at him, cloaked in a human’s form, jet-black hair and a formal-looking shirt. “Brother!” he cheered. “It’s been too long, wouldn’t you say?”

“Not long enough,” Wahisietel gruffly nodded his head, indicating for Sliske to come inside. As soon as he did, Wahisietel shut and locked the door, transforming back into his Mahjarrat form. Sliske wasted no time in doing the same, stretching out the kinks in his neck. “You’re looking rather… well,” Sliske began, an insinuation in his tone. “A good day then?”

“No need to play coy, Sliske,” Wahisietel poured himself another drink. “Why are you here?”

“So hostile!” Sliske teased, draping himself over the couch as he did so. “I came for the gossip, naturally. So, who bit the dust this time?”

A suspicion confirmed. “So you DID feel the pull.”

“I did, but I felt it would be best to not RSVP to that particular get-together,” Sliske remarked, “I hardly believe I would have been Mr Popularity.”

Wahisietel had assumed as much. “A wise move, but what I want to know is, why didn't you degrade with the rest of us?”

“I could answer that,” Sliske replied with a raise of his eyebrows. “But I feel you have a theory of your own, brother.”

Wahisietel nodded, curtly. “The Stone is holding you together.”

“Holding me together sounds so desperate,” Sliske waved a hand theatrically. “I feel we have a symbiotic relationship. After all, I'm finally getting some good use out of the thing.”

Sitting up, Sliske propped his chin on his hands and grinned wryly. “So, who should I cross off my Wintumber card list this year, hm?”

“Mah.”

At this, Sliske’s interest was piqued. So Wahisietel relented and relayed the incredibly cut down version of events. He was just too exhausted to give a play-by-play of what happened on Freneskae, and frankly, his half-brother’s joviality was grating on him more than usual. But more than that, Wahisietel was worried. Not that he’d let Sliske know, but it was his antics that were causing Wahisietel to lose sleep at night. Now that he’d missed a Ritual - the final Ritual, no less - Wahisietel was sure that such an action would not go without consequences.

After the tale was finished, Sliske leaned back on the couch, stroking his chin in contemplation. “Well, I certainly missed a shindig, didn’t I?

Sliske might have been content embracing his casual and suave facade, but Wahisietel had had enough. “What is your endgame here, Sliske? You betray Zaros, have every major deity in Gielinor after your blood, and you made an enemy of the World Guardian you claim to-” he shook his head, his own frustrations catching up to him. “I just cannot see the plan in all this.”

Sliske chuckled. “I do so hate parting with information. Knowledge is power, after all.”

“Sliske, I’m serious,” his tone had an edge of pleading about it. “You must be able to see that you are in over your head. I can help you. We can get through this together, like we always have.”

Even Sliske’s jovial mask softened slightly. “Dear brother, you needn’t worry about me. It’s all part of the plan, after all.”

“Plans, plans…” Wahisietel muttered, clenching his teeth. “And what would happen if all your plans fell apart and you were finally cornered?”

“All my plans?” a familiar sparkle twinkled in Sliske’s eyes. “Why brother, it is as if you do not know me at all. There is always another plan.”

After crossing out another tally on his wall chart, Jahaan knew it was nearly time. The eclipse was only five days away now. Five days until either he died, or Sliske did.

Runes had been collected in their hundreds, swords had been sharpened and armour had been buffed. Jahaan’s ribs were as close to fully healed as he could get. The same went for the rest of his injuries, though his nose hadn’t mended quite as nicely as he had hoped. Still, that was cosmetic only - nothing to worry about.

Jahaan was ready. Ready for the fight of his life, ready for his death. Whatever Sliske’s endgame would throw at him, he could handle, or so he kept telling himself. He needed to stay alive long enough to watch Sliske suffer. He needed to avenge Ozan’s fate. He needed to stop the voices in his head…

So after taking one last look at the chalk marks on his wall, Jahaan began to dress himself in his armour, equipping his swords to his hip and attaching the rune pouch to his belt. Gathering up his rucksack, Jahaan left a few extra coins on the mattress and embarked into the midday sun of Menaphos, perhaps for the last time.

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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#runescape #children of mah

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r0xias · 4 years

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I, uh, can I prompt for how the bachelors and bachelorettes would be around their S/O with, like, really bad anxiety? Sorry if it's too specific, I just have chronic anxiety and sometimes I need validation ;-; (you can leave this unanswered if you want to) Even if you don't answer, thanks for being open for Stardew Valley prompts!

I gotchu!!! forgive me if this is bad but i haven’t married most of them

Abigail will literally hug you so tight till you calm down. She’ll offer you to eat and even play video games with her. She’ll crawl into bed with you and hold you even closer and rub your head to make you feel better. She’ll even play you a song on her flute just to see you smile.

Alex isn’t sure how to react at first but he tries his best to help you through it. It’s his first time dealing with something like this and he ends up making a mess of himself which causes you to laugh. He’ll even flex his muscles to you just to get you to crack a smile because he knows how much you like it.

Emily will meditate with you and ask you to go outdoors with her. She’ll have you watch the clouds with her and make a few jokes now and then just to make you laugh. She’ll call Gus and tell her she won’t be able to make it to work just to take care of you.

Elliott is a real sweetheart and he WILL take care of you. He’ll let you stay in bed and clean the whole house for you and even take care of the farm. After all that, he’ll stay in bed with you to talk about your problems and soothe you. He’ll read you a few poems just to see you smile and plant kisses on your forehead. He’ll stay in bed with you as long as you need and won’t leave until you say so. This man will literally take care of you.

Haley is almost the same as Alex. Unsure how to react to the situation but does her best to help you through it. She’ll make you your favorite foods and even talk it out with you. She’ll give you small kisses to make you feel better and even talk about going out for the summer for a vacation to get away from the farm life a bit.

Harvey is a doctor so of course he has just what you need! And no, it isn’t medicine, it’s love! He’ll talk you through and have you tell him what’s wrong. He’ll make you some foods and even crack a few ‘doctor’ jokes just to make you laugh. He’ll check up on your health every now and then to make sure you’re doing fine and make you food that’ll keep you healthy. Once you’re better, he’ll even take you for a hot air balloon ride to watch the sunset.

Leah will take you over to her cottage and show you her artworks. She’ll tell you about every different piece and then show you her final one that’ll she’ll be showcasing at the art show. She then reveals a portrait of you and her having a picnic together and having a good time. She’ll smile at you and then look into your eyes and let you know that you are the most beautiful piece of art that she’s ever seen.

Sam is the same as Haley and Alex. He’s unsure how to deal with the situation but he tries his best anyway. He takes out an acoustic guitar which is something different that you notice about him since he usually plays his electric one. He tells you he has no idea about acoustics but tries to play a song for you anyway in hopes it’ll calm you down and make you smile a little more.

Maru will take you out at night to look at the stars with her on your telescope. She’ll ask you what constellations you see and tell you about them. She’ll then point to two stars tell you about how she named them after you and her. She’ll then look over at you and smile and tell you that you are the brightest star in her eyes and she likes it better when you’re smiling.

Sebastian will take you out for a ride on his motorcycle and bring you to one of his favorite spots - the place where he confessed his true feelings for you. He reminds you of that day and why he chose you to be his girlfriend. He tells you that when you smile, you bring out the best in him. He hugs you close and will never let you go. He’ll even kiss you just so you never forget.

Penny is usually shy but never around you especially in your times of need. She will end up reading her favorite book to you and crack a small joke or two. She may even cook some of your favorite foods (although cooking isn’t her thing but she does it anyway because she wants to make you happy) She talks to you about the future and hopes one day she can have kids like Jas and Vincent. She will even lay in bed with you and cuddle all day just to make you feel better.

Shane will most likely drink a beer with you. Tell you to let all your troubles go and just drink away. He’ll often tell you that sometimes it’s okay to feel the way you feel but don’t it get in your way. He’ll tell you about his troubles and will help you through it too.

Sorry if this was... not good but I tried :( Hope this gives you some validation!!! You’re never alone, don’t ever forget that.

My inbox is also open for anyone who wants to talk it out!!!

#roxias answers #stardew valley #bachelors #bachelorettes

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chain-unchained · 5 years

Text

June 4

(are these blurbs before the actual writing pretentious? ;~; idk)

I always kind of imagined that Shane has this vicious cycle of drinking, feeling like he let Jas and/or Marnie down, trying to make it up to them but failing in some way, and then drinking harder. So this chapter is a bit fluffy and melancholic. I hope you like it ;u;

With the weight of what had transpired a few days ago still fresh in Shane’s mind, he was determined to do what he could to make up for it today, Jas’ eighth birthday. Even with all his failures and him spending most of his paychecks on booze, he’d saved enough to get her a new Welwick Court doll. He didn’t really know much about kids’ toys, but he did know that Jas loved the Welwick dolls, and he’d gone through her collection to make sure that he didn’t get one she already had.

It wasn’t near enough to make up for everything he’d put her through, he knew that. He knew that if he had even an ounce of restraint and saved up his money, he could have gotten her more than just one present—if he had his life together, he could have gotten her a dozen gifts, taken her out to Zuzu city for a day of fun and shopping because he would have remembered to put in for the day off in advance, and actually been the godfather that he was supposed to be. But this was the best he could do. It was all he could do.

The day at Joja-Mart seemed to drag on even more than it usually did; when 5 PM finally rolled around, Shane clocked out, grabbing the gift he’d messily wrapped from his locker and tucked it into his jacket. He’d make a quick pit stop at the saloon on his way home, pick up some pizza for Jas’ birthday dinner and have a drink to help settle his anxiety while it was cooking, and be back at the ranch by 5:30. Plenty of time to celebrate the squirt’s birthday with her and Marnie.

As his feet carried him down the road away from that hell-mart, his thoughts meandered as they often did, filling his mind with fantasies about what life would be like if he didn’t work at Joja, if he hadn’t torn his ACL playing gridball, if he hadn’t dropped out of college. It was almost unbelievable that once upon a time, he had potential to actually make something of his life. He could have been a fullback for the Tunnelers if he hadn’t blown out his knee…

“On your way home?”

Pausing at the sound of Ashe’s voice, Shane took his eyes away from the ground where he had been looking and saw the petite farmboy standing a bit further down the road, covered in dirt—it looked like he’d had quite the day on the farm, to say the least.

“No, I’m walking to my second job at the other Joja-mart.” Shane snorted quietly, coming to a stop before the youth. “But yeah, actually, I am.” He admitted after a moment; after what had happened on the first, he couldn’t bring himself to be as cold and mean as he had used to be with the kid, especially not since Ashe was still treating him like a friend. “Today’s Jas’ birthday, so I’m just gonna stop by the saloon and pick up a pizza or two to bring back.”

“Ah, I thought so!” Ashe clapped his hands together in delight and reached into his bag. “I was so busy on the farm today that I didn’t have the chance to stop by and say hello before the shop closed… Would you mind giving this to her and wishing her a happy birthday for me?” As he spoke, he pulled a bubblegum pink pinkcat flower out and held it out to Shane with a smile.

Shane gave it a thought for a second. “… Nope. Give it to her yourself.” He commented as he began to walk again, not wanting to keep Jas waiting longer than necessary. She could get pretty hangry if dinner was even just a little bit late.

“Eh--?” Confused, Ashe turned around to watch him go. “But… the shop’s closed--?”

“So?” Shane stopped again to look back at him, jerking his head to indicate for Ashe to follow him. “I’m saying come back with me, ya dingus. Marnie won’t care, she likes you well enough.”

It took a few seconds for Ashe to realize what Shane said; slowly, the biggest smile lit up his face. “Okay~!”

“You’re so fucking slow sometimes.” Shane shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets as he began to walk once more, with Ashe hastening to catch up. “I still don’t get why you keep bothering with an asshole like me. Shouldn’t you be hanging out with people your age, like Sebastian or Abigail?”

To be honest, it was a question he’d had in his mind for awhile now. While it was true that most of his time was spent stocking those damn shelves, he’d never really seen Ashe spend time with the youngers of the valley—he was always busy with something or other, and what little free time he had seemed to be spent bugging Shane or doing favors for the townsfolk. Sometimes, just watching Ashe flit about like a hummingbird made Shane feel tired.

“Mmm…” A contemplative look came onto Ashe’s face at the question. “I talk to them on the computer during the evenings… it’s kind of embarrassing to admit, but most of the time I have trouble connecting with them.” He looked to Shane with a shrug of his shoulders and an airheaded smile. “Not so much with Sebastian, we actually talk a lot over chat. Sam’s easy enough to talk to because he’s so easygoing, too. Abigail’s nice, but I have trouble keeping up with her sometimes…”

“That so?” It struck Shane as Ashe talked that he really didn’t know much of anything about the kid. “I figured it would be the opposite since you’re such a nosy bugaboo. Guess that means you have nothing to do with Alex or Haley, huh?”

“Not really, no.” Ashe agreed with a vigorous shake of his head. “Haley doesn’t even acknowledge my existence. Alex at least will say hello, but… Oh, I do sometimes talk to Penny. Not very often, though, since she’s usually busy with tutoring.” There was also Emily, but he didn’t need to say anything, since Shane knew how the two of them got on since she worked evenings at the saloon, and Elliot, who was going through one of his rare inspiration phases and had barely left his cabin since spring started.

“What’s stopping you from doing what you did to me to them?” Shane gave Ashe the stink-eye. “I’ve got half a mind to make you go and bother them until you make friends. Kids like you shouldn’t be bothering with old farts like me.”

Defeated, Ashe just gave him another smile and laughed meekly, and Shane looked forward again with a quiet snort. It was an empty threat, honestly, though he was surprised to hear that a cheerful, personable person like Ashe couldn’t connect with people in his age group. He found that hard to believe, but Ashe didn’t seem the type to lie, not about something so trivial at least.

With pizza and 2-liters of soda in hand after a quick stop at the saloon, the pair took the southwest road out of town and made their way to the ranch. Struggling a little to open the front door since his hands were full, Shane let them in; as expected, the shop was empty, and they could hear Jas’ excited chattering coming from the kitchen. “Shh, this’ll be a surprise.” He whispered to Ashe, who nodded his head in silent agreement.

“Aunt Marnie, when is Shane gonna be home?” Jas asked, sitting at the table and swinging her legs restlessly as she colored away in her Welwick courts coloring book; it was hard being patient, especially as a kid, and especially especially as a kid on your birthday. But she’d been extra super good that day in the hopes that it would mean she’d have a good evening.

“I’m not sure, sweetie.” Marnie kept her back turned to Jas as she spoke, putting the finishing touches on the birthday cake as she tried not to let her smile come through in her voice; she certainly hoped that her nephew could pass up the saloon for one day and come home early, and she hated that she honestly didn’t know what he would end up doing. “I’m sure that he’ll be back soon. He at least said he was going to get some pizza, and I don’t think he’d keep the birthday girl waiting for her dinner.”

“… Is he gonna be drunk?” Jas’ legs stopped swinging, her voice becoming quiet and almost somber; at the counter, Marnie paused in her icing. “I don’t like it when he drinks… and he always seems unhappy. Why does he drink if he doesn’t like it?”

They were difficult words to hear from a little girl. And what made it even harder was that Marnie simply didn’t have an answer to give—not the kind of answer that Jas wanted, at least. “I wish I could say, kiddo.” She turned to look at her young charge with a sympathetic smile. “But that’s something only Shane can answer.”

As expected, Jas struggled to understand why Marnie didn’t have the answer. Before she could prod her aunt any further, however, Shane loudly cleared his throat, announcing his and Ashe’s presence. “I have a large cheese pizza for a Ms. Jas.”

“Shane!” Jas twisted around in her seat to look at her godfather, her face lighting up at his presence; despite it all, it was clear that she adored him more than anything in the whole world. The delight on her face was replaced by surprise as she saw Ashe poke his head out from behind Shane—the hallway was rather on the narrow side, and there was no room for him to stand beside the man. “Mr. Ashe? How come you’re here too?”

“Well, I heard it was a certain someone’s birthday today~” Ashe smiled as Shane stepped fully into the kitchen, setting the pizza down on the table and flipping the box open to reveal its ooey gooey cheesy contents. “I just wanted to wish you a very happy birthday, Jas. I didn’t know what all to get you, so…” He held the flower out to the girl. “It’s not much, but I bet it’d look very pretty if you pressed it in a book.”

Jas’ eyes widened even more as she carefully accepted the brightly colored flower. “Thank you…” She didn’t expect him to get her a gift.

“You’re welcome~” Ashe raised his hand in farewell and turned to leave. “I’ll let you all have your evening, then. Bye~”

“What, you’re not going to stay for some pizza and cake?” Marnie inquired, giving Ashe pause. “Come on, sit and relax for a spell.”

“Ah… are you sure?” Ashe turned back to look at the family, uncertainty written on his face. “I don’t want to impose on a day like today.” His expression shifted to one of meekness as he looked down to his dirt-covered self. “And I’m such a mess right now, I—”

“Mr. Ashe?” Jas interrupted, looking from the flower to Ashe with her large, expressive eyes. “If you don’t stay, there’s gonna be a lot of leftovers. Even Shane can’t eat this much pizza.”

“Hey, what are you trying to say there squirt?” Shane pretended to look offended by her comment. “Well, you heard the birthday girl. Might as well, right?”

Momentarily overwhelmed, Ashe looked to Marnie for confirmation; the portly woman smiled and nodded, reaching up into the cupboards to get an extra plate for their guest. “… I guess if Jas wants me to, I don’t have a choice~” He admitted with a sheepish smile.

It felt just a little strange to him, to be sitting with the little family as they ate their way through as much of the massive pizza as they could, but it wasn’t an unwelcome sort of strange. It almost felt like… he had a family again, a feeling that he thought he wouldn’t get to experience again. It was bittersweet.

“Mr. Ashe, how come you decided to be a farmer?” Jas asked, once the pizza had been demolished and the cake polished off (no matter how stuffed you were, there was always room for cake). Still at the table with Ashe and Shane while Marnie cleared away the dishes, she was quite happily playing with the new doll that was Shane’s gift to her, though it didn’t stop her from being the inquisitive child that she was.

The question caught Ashe off-guard. “Well…” He looked thoughtful as he tried to think of the best way to answer her question. “I just needed a change.” He finally answered after several moments of contemplation. “Before my grandpa died, he gave me an envelope and told me to open it when the time was right. I didn’t know it at the time, of course, but it was the deed to his farm.” He smiled merrily. “I worked at a Joja office for awhile, and then I got tired of being an adult and came to be a farmer instead~”

“You worked for Joja?” Shane couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice, lifting his head up from where he’d been resting it against his hand to look at the kid with raised brows. “When? You look like you just barely graduated high school.”

“Never judge a book by its cover~” Ashe chimed, looking carefree as ever—yet for some reason, Shane got the feeling that this time, that happy go lucky attitude was fake. “I didn’t even finish high school.”

Jas’ jaw hit the floor. “You didn’t? Why? Didn’t you like school?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Ashe nodded his head vigorously. “I loved school.” His smile softened just a little, and for a moment, it almost seemed to become melancholy. “But sometimes, you have to do things that you don’t want to do.” And just like that, he was back to his normal self, giving Jas a big ol’ grin. “And then later down the road, you might be able to do things you want to do again.”

His words gave the little girl quite a lot to think about, as she tried to stifle a yawn behind her hand. “Alright, little missy.” Marnie turned around as she dried her hands on a rag, as though she had eyes in the back of her head that saw it. “It’s way past your bedtime. Come along now, let’s pick out a book to read.”

“Awww…” Jas pouted, her attempt to stay up later duly foiled. “Okay…”

“G’night, squirt.” Shane bid, watching as his aunt led Jas out of the kitchen towards her room; as soon as the two were out of earshot, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the tabletop and burying his face in his hands as he let out the heaviest sigh. Somehow, he’d managed to hold himself together after catching Jas’ comment about him drinking; it had taken everything he had in that moment not to turn and walk right back out the door, her words unintentionally crushing his already crumbling heart.

“Shane…?” Ashe gently touched the man’s arm; he of course had heard what Jas had said, too, and seen the way that Shane’s face had fallen, even if it was just for a moment. “You okay?”

For a long minute, Shane didn’t answer. “No, I’m not okay.” He finally mumbled, curling his fingers to dig his nails into his skin. “I’m a fucking wreck and I can’t even pull myself together for Jas.”

He wouldn’t say it, but hearing how even Ashe had taken control of his life only amplified Shane’s feelings of shame and self-hatred. Here was a kid who by all rights should be out having the time of his life but instead chose to work one of the most grueling, laborious jobs out there, all on his own, without so much as a single complaint. And then there was Shane, still living with his aunt, working a dead-end job that he hated with no savings, no future and no ambitions.

“…” Ashe scooted a little closer, putting his arm around Shane’s shoulders in a sort of semi-hug; abruptly, Shane knocked his arm off, leaning away from the farmer to make sure he couldn’t do it again.

It wasn’t that the gesture wasn’t appreciated. It was that it was so unexpected, and Shane was in such a bad place, that he couldn’t accept it, and his first instinct was to violently reject it before he had a chance to realize how much he needed that kind of support.

Of course, he wasn’t able to verbalize this to Ashe, whose arm fell back to his side, his eyes widening as he realized that he went too far. “S-Sorry.” The farmer apologized. “… I think it’s time I headed home.” He murmured, not wanting to overstay his welcome any longer. “Thank you for inviting me over, Shane.”

Shane couldn’t even bring himself to acknowledge Ashe’s gratitude, burying his face deeper into his hands; he listened to the sound of Ashe’s boot heels as he headed down the hall towards the front door, and could faintly hear him bid a farewell to Marnie and Jas on his way out. The whole time, his shoulders were shaking, his chin quivering as he scrunched up his face in a desperate attempt to keep the tears in his eyes from overflowing. He didn’t even have it in him to treat the person who had gone out of his way to befriend him with the smallest amount of decency…

#stardew #stardew valley #stardew shane #stardew farmer #stardew valley fanfiction #stardew fanfiction #stardew fanfic

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ziamfanfiction · 5 years

Note

Can you rec a few fics that are not appreciated enough? Like.. proper good ones with good writing and stuff.. Because there are so many fics who get so much attention and it's so cool but then there are fics which are honestly really really good, too, but nobody even knows them. And that's a bit sad. The authors are amazing and I think most of them don't even know that. Soooo.. let's get all those authors the attention they deserve!!!

sure! you can check on our hidden gems tag and previous posts about underrated fics 1 / 2

just like that by justemma

Zayn likes watching Liam play rugby.

Doctor Doctor by orgaziam

Zayn doesn't know whether he should thank Louis or kill him.

Based loosely off of the prompt, "I fell down and now I'm on the floor and my friend has a bad sense of humor and called out 'is anyone here a doctor?' and now you're trying to save me."

Not Fade Away by biggrstaffbunch

Liam wants something to keep. Zayn has a lot to give.

Somehow, they muddle along.

Make Up For by JoMouse

For Zayn, it's always been Liam.

Relight My Fire by LibbyWrites

Loving Lieutenant Liam Payne was always the easy part, from day one.The hard part was dealing with the fact that he was never going to be loved back.

It's Always Been You by livingforamiracle

An AU where Liam consistently goes on bad dates only to realize that his favorite dates are the ones where he's holed up in his flat with his best friend Zayn.

From a Mirror by supercalifragili

The idea was really simple sex, really slow and excruciatingly languorous sex, Zayn promised on the phone.

The Sound of Silence by JoMouse

Zayn likes things quiet.

you put your arms around me and i'm home by ellisaco

"So, uh, any idea where we are?" Liam asks, because Zayn is in charge of navigation, always. Liam still sometimes gets lost in London if Zayn isn't there to steer him right. Which, like, that shouldn't be endearing, right? Certainly if Harry called Zayn up on his day off at ten am to ask where the closest ASDA to Zayn's house was, his first reaction would not be to smile at his mobile.

or: Zayn and Liam go on an ice cream date in Madrid.

A happy ending by Comet

Zayn is a masseur at a resort and Liam's neck hurts.

i'd rather die like this by ziamsquad (locked)

prompt: imagine your opt stuck in an elevator after a fight

We'll Go Slow by Ziamsession

This one shot based on a prompt I got from an anon"could you write an inexperienced zayn wants to have sex with liam (b!z if it's ok) an he wants to make it perfect and tries to prepare himself for liam's cock, tries to ride liam but fails... a lot of giggles and an embarrassed zayn but everything gets better when liam helps him and they make love PLEASEEEEEEE"

The Boy Next Door by happily_missy

Zayn and Liam are next door neighbors but they are worlds apart.

Or the Drive Me Crazy AU that no one asked for but I desperately needed

we should have each other with cream by coffeewordangel

Zayn is convinced his new neighbor is harboring a forbidden cat.

got your body on my mind by coffeewordangel

Fill for ziamminds excellent prompt that Jas brought to my attention:

Yoga was not Zayn's thing. The only thing keeping him from walking out of that class is his super hot instructor Liam Payne.

This Land is Mine, I Let You Rule by missberrycake

In which the life Liam and Zayn share together is one founded on lies and deceit.

When two first-class spies get married, they each have to hide their secret from the other. After they’re both assigned to the same target, the truth is finally revealed. Free from their cover, they have to learn to love each other all over again.

i'm not crazy, i'm just a little unwell by redsweater

“You need to get over the fact we haven’t shared everything together babe,” Liam mumbles tired.

Zayns shakes his head, “I do not. Couples must experience everything together. I know smoking our first cigarette together is stupid, but it makes me happy considering I didn’t get drunk with you my first time, nor did I lose my virginity to you.” Zayn gives Liam a pointed look, like he dares him to say something about that topic.

zayn is special, and liam's in love

you (put this spell on me) by outofcases (poppyseedheart)

"What part of ‘don’t touch that’ did you not understand?" asks Zayn, eyes full of fire. He’s standing dangerously still in front of Liam, and while they both know that all of this is a front for how worried and potentially freaked out he is, his anger is still searing hot.

Liam shifts from foot to foot, chastened. His hands are twisted up in front of him, fidgeting, and he’s trying not to break Zayn’s eye contact. ”I didn’t think anything would happen.”

Zayn sighs a long suffering sigh and runs a hand down his face, mumbling something Liam can’t fully hear. It sounds suspiciously like “famous last words.”

Altar'd Perception by Edjumacashun

Zayn finds himself uncontrollably attracted to a goofy, naive, lamb of a boy. As he tries to rationalize his way around this relationship, Liam throws his expections for a loop at every turn.

until the stars are all alight by orphan_account

Liam is a retired former astronaut with the World Space Agency in the year 2134. He was once the ace pilot and pride of Britain until tragedy pushed him out of the service. He's approached by astrophysicist Louis to join a crew that's being assembled to go rescue an astronaut left on the Mars Space Station. This is Zayn Malik. Liam is the only pilot available with the experience necessary to fly a mission to a damaged station.

Slowish burn.

You Can Hear It In The Silence by orphan_account

Five times Zayn and Liam didn't have to say anything at all and the one time they did anyway.

Over Five Months by ZaynCentric

au fic where liam is the popstar and zayn is his uni boyfriend who likes to embarras him when he comes off tour by waiting with all the other fangirls with homemade signs

i hope i'm gonna be by weareonceinalifetime

Five times Zayn kisses Liam on the forehead and one time Liam kisses Zayn.

happy accidents by imstephtacular

“Hi, I, uh…” a voice accompanying a knock at Zayn’s door stammers. Zayn approaches the door and, peering out, sees his neighbor— Lance? Lucas? Landon? he cannot remember honestly and he really never thought to ask— wincing as he clutches his stomach. “I’m, uh, Liam, I live…” he grimaces.

“Next door,” Zayn finishes, opening the door. “Yeah, I’ve seen you out running and at the mailboxes. “Are…are you okay, mate?” Liam’s expressions are obvious ones of discomfort as Liam attempts to respond, he lurches forward, clawing for the doorframe to steady himself.

Liam yelps in pain and Zayn leans to help him. “Wow, okay, what’s wrong?” Liam is still gripping his stomach and Zayn can see he is visibly in agony.

“I think…it’s…my…” Liam’s breathing gets heavy, punctuated. “Appendix,” he manages, flinching as yet another shot of pain spreads through his stomach.

OR: Liam is Zayn's neighbor but they've never really been introduced until Liam knocks on Zayn's door, doubled over in pain, and Zayn is terrible in a crisis

I Know The Sound Of Your Heart by LibbyWrites

Liam always adored the peace and quiet of his neighborhood. Until a new neighbor shows up and turns his world upside down with much more than just loud music.

A Million Different Ways by unfortunate17

They work for the Soul Agency and Zayn’s soul always meets Liam’s soul.

i'll go for you with everything i've got by wafflehood (locked)

In which Louis and Harry are definitely in cahoots, Niall is probably sworn to secrecy, Liam has been waiting a while, and Zayn makes a grand romantic gesture.

eyes on you eyes on me by cptniall

“i needed a drink of water after my shower but i forgot that i opened the blinds to my balcony and you just saw me walk into my kitchen nakedaka liam’s hot neighbour teaches him the value of discretion whilst also complimenting him on his massive weiner

Together Making One by zenamored

Another thing he really likes about being with Zayn—he’ll never go hungry while he’s around.

Four times Zayn cooks for Liam and one time Liam returns the favor.

#me going thru my history on ao3 lol #i've been reading stuff sorted by kudos #most of these have less than 150 kudos so i reckon they are not appreciated enough #Anons #eat my ask

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