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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

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The Bet: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: While on vacation, Gojo makes a bet that Geto just can’t refuse.

words: 1677

tw: nsfw, heavy smut, and bondage, baybeeee

Vacation sounded nice.

When Suguru said “vacation” and “we” and “are going” all in the same sentence, you first squint your eyes at him, noting the last time he had said those words, you ended up sitting on the floor of the hotel watching a B-rated horror flick while he laid in bed, snoring the night away. But he promised this time would be different, mentioned a beach, and then had you hooked.

The beach was there; that was a fact. You actually went to the beach earlier, splashing around in the ocean after making a very amature sand castle and burying Satoru in the sand. But now, you were sitting in the adjoining suite with Satoru and some girl he had picked up from a local club, your legs in Suguru’s lap while you talked, absolutely sober.

“I bet you all of the money in my wallet that y/n won’t survive thirty-minutes of being tied up.” Gojo laughs, a long arm slung around the random brunette who giggles a little at the bet. “She’ll be begging you to untie her before you cum, Geto.” Suguru tilts his head at Satoru, stroking your bare legs in his lap and calculating the possibility of beating Satoru’s odds. You don’t know how they got onto the topic of rope and the art of tying someone up, but here you were; the focus of this particular unwarranted conversation.

“I wouldn’t be so sure… You’re pretty resilient - aren’t you, kitten?” He asks, patting your thigh with certainty. You just nod, half-interested in the conversation, half hoping they would just leave well enough alone and Satoru would waltz off to fuck the woman to his left.

The woman in question eyes you carefully from her perch on the couch, fully relaxing into the white-haired sorcerer’s chest. Little did she know that this would be her one and only debut because Gojo never dipped in the same pot twice. Ever. So you effectively ignore her and answer Suguru’s question.

“I’m sure I can handle it.”

You really thought “tied up” meant both wrists bound or even a simple frog tie. But your hands are bound behind you in reverse prayer, with your legs tied up in some other position that Suguru had mentioned to you as he worked. You wonder for a moment where he got the rope and if this had been Satoru and his plan all along.

But the thoughts fade as you watch the sorcerer work his magic, taking care to exert minimal pressure with his movements and check the tightness with fidelity. The sound of the thick rope running through his fingers arouses you more than the positions he contorts you into, and before long you are absolutely helpless to his every whim and wish with no ability to move of your own will. When Suguru finishes, he runs a hand over your back, admiring his handiwork with a sweet smile.

“It’s been a minute since I’ve done this…” he murmurs, peeling off his clothes slowly. His arm muscles ripple in the dim lighting of the room, and you feel saliva pooling in your mouth. “But you look just as beautiful as I thought you would.” As a final touch, Suguru reaches into his suitcase and pulls out a bar gag, looking at the device before deciding that yes, he would like to use it. “I need your consent,” he states, and you nod your head, eager to feel the contraption between your lips. A relaxing sensation sweeps over you after the gag is put into place, and you rest your head on the sheets in surrender.

“You’re being so good for me tonight,” your lover coos, swiping a hand over your pussy. You groan at the contact, constricting on nothingness until he slides a finger into you. You quickly discover that the gag is a barrier to all speech except the guttural sounds you make, and your desire to be vocal about your pleasure heightens. Now that you can’t touch yourself, the sensations are enhanced exponentially, and you squirm beneath Suguru’s touch. “If something doesn’t feel right, I need you to shake your head twice, understand?” You nod, and he adds a finger while tugging on an exposed nipple. The sound that wrenches itself from your throat is needy and heady and absolutely filled with lust, and your head begins to spin.

Suguru removes his fingers quickly, making you cry out, but it isn’t long before they’re replaced with his cock nudging at your entrance. When he enters you, you hear him mutter a long string of curses, more than he’s ever uttered before in one sentence to your knowledge.

“Oh my fucking god, this shit is so motherfucking good.” You whimper when he begins to move inside of you, the familiar wet slapping sounds filling the room. You hope Satoru and his little plaything can’t hear you enjoying yourself, but you’re sure Suguru has plans to make your moans the soundtrack of the night. As you jostle back and forth with each stroke, there’s a distinct sense of pain you feel from the rope against your skin. Not that it was too much, but the pain added another layer of stimulation that you couldn’t quite describe in any other word except incredible.

Suguru sounds like a dying man as he plows into you, and you answer his pants and grunts with your own. “Seeing you like this makes me… oh, shit… it makes me feel so good, y/n. You’re such a beautiful woman… all tied up and...” He couldn’t finish his words as he moved inside of you, but you knew that this was exactly what turned him on: the fact that you were absolutely helpless without him made him feel invincible. The power dynamic is switched, and here you are, beholden to his every move. He wanted to be the one to give you pleasure, not anyone else; not even yourself. He held the cards in his hands, and he wouldn’t let anyone have them.

So when you tumble over into your first orgasm of the night, you know he’s swelling up with pride as he continues ramming into your soaking wet cunt. “Cum for me…” he whispers as you moan around the bar in your mouth. “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.”

Afterwards, he unties your hands, rubbing feeling back into them before re-tying them together in front of you. Instead of looping the rope around your wrists until it runs out, he deftly ties the ends around the restraints on your legs, making your arms stretch out between your thighs. Your fingers are so close to your pussy that you can feel the heat coming from it, but when you try to touch your clit, you find that it’s nearly impossible to do so.

“We’ve got about fifteen more minutes,” Suguru murmurs into your ear, kissing your temple. “Think you can hold on?” You nod eagerly, hoping he can give you at least two more orgasms in that time frame. “Wonderful,” he answers, and takes his position behind you again. Except this time, there are no fingers or his cock… His tongue soaks into your cunt with precision, both hands resting on your ass cheeks.

At the unexpected feeling, your head shoots up, tugging on your restraints a little. But Suguru ignores the movement and continues his agonizing, languid procession up and down your pussy, circling around your clit and back. His appreciation for your taste is evident in the sounds he makes, the humming down below stimulating you further.

“Mmmph!” You grunt in response to his teeth grazing your clit before his tongue soothes the dull ache, flicking the bud back and forth. Your fingers extend out painfully, trying to anchor on anything as Suguru tortures you. But you fall over into the nothingness again, eyes drifting to the back of your head as you tremble beneath him.

Your orgasm hasn’t even fully ended when he re-enters you, beginning his strokes. A wet sensation runs down your ass and the pressure from a single finger on your asshole startles you, making you jerk again. “You can take it…” Suguru whispers, pressing his thumb into your asshole with slight difficulty. “There you go.”

The combined pressure from his cock and the finger in your ass drives you wild. Nevermind the fact that you were tied up; this was an entirely different level of satisfaction: ecstasy.

Tears slip from your eyes and your body begins to feel the ache of an overwhelming experience. Reality is no more. You are no more. The universe? It’s all composed of this.

The gag is drenched with your saliva and Suguru tosses his head back, a pained inhale dragging into his throat. “Fuck, I’m so close…” You try to buck your hips or at least attempt to reach your clit one last time so you can cum with him and completely black out, and you’re almost unsuccessful until you feel his cock twitch fiercely in your pussy. And that’s when your soul is snatched out of your body.

You’re deaf to the loudest groan you’ve ever made, blind to the sight of Suguru tilting back and pressing his eyes closed due to the force of his orgasm, and numb to the feeling of him shooting long streams of cum into your cunt.

The blackout doesn’t last forever, but you wish it had.

The timer beeps, ropes come undone, the gag comes off, and you’re covered in a thick blanket before Suguru presses an infinite number of kisses to your face and neck. You feel as if you’d smoked the best weed in the world, but you know the high only stems from the man who is holding you close and whispering tender words into your ear. Before you can close your eyes and shut out the world around you, a kiss is pressed to the inside of your right wrist, Suguru places your hand on his heart, and whispers,

“Satoru better not be broke.”

#geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen getou #getou x reader #geto suguru #jjk smut #jjk geto #jjk gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen #geto smut #getou suguru

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sugar-petals · 3 years

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♡ måneskin scenario: getting to know ethan

↳ NOTE. by popular demand and because i’m entirely enthralled by the phenomenon that is ethan torchio myself, here we go givin’ the gorgeous drummer some love.

word count. 5.5k

TAGS. no warnings all fluff, fem!oc, slice of life, photographer!reader, first date-ish, shy flirting, ot4 is part of the plot, ethan being sexy in heels

Jacob had enough of that twilight bullshit and joined a glam rock band. At least that’s what you thought seeing Ethan around for the first time. Setting up the kit, carrying his whiny band members around, fixing his ruffle shirt, chugging some water: Big gig tonight, extra long setlist. Five minutes later, complaining about his brocade shoes being hard to kick the bass drum with. Even later, silently nodding along to an impassioned Damiano speech crafted to boost the morale, and posing for your camera in his silver jumpsuit. Friendly to approach all the way, but without initiating stable eye contact even once.

One thing’s for sure. As your favorite professor said back at university: Someone may be photogenic and unearthly as hell in terms of looks, and even be intimidating — but also so damn shy, you won’t see their eyes a single time. „Gotta work with it and not against. Then it gets interesting“. In essence, the takeaway from that course. Which does come in handy now. Ethan seems like the kind of guy you really have to get into for a more intimate-feeling picture.

Sure, many people in front of your camera have all kinds of introverted personalities anyway, wearing sunglasses in particular. So much about eye contact in the first place. And the aesthetic is priority, not studying character. Although you really are a fan of that, it’s a huge part of photography if anything. Alas, you’re here to „capture nothing more but the spirit of italo-rock, the attitude, the hedonism!“ (the exact words of your boss) for a music magazine after all. Really, nothing more? You paid attention to how he worded it. Fair enough. Rock spirit, that’s all, the exciting parts.

Ethan surely has it. Drumming on everything he can find during rehearsal breaks („music is everywhere“) with his sticks, even Thomas’ amplifier. He’s actually dorkier than you thought, less composed when he’s in his element. First impressions do deceive. The hair’s hard to miss, too. It’s the central motif that attracts you. You may or may not have taken over 50 shots of it just because. Ethan is a bad bitch and he better know. You climb around the venue to get any salient angle of Måneskin you can think of. Even from all the way back, last row. You don’t want to annoy them being all up in their face constantly. You’re hired to get all the good shots, they’ve been a band for seven years already, professionals in the making. Doesn’t mean you have to stand below the edge of the stage and never change position.

Even from back there, the silver reflects beautifully at the back of the stage. The fashion’s all designer and it shows, but Ethan couldn’t look bad in any of the shots even if he tried or wore the plainest black suit (hell, that would be just as beautiful in fact). Just how long is that hair anyway. All the way down to the solar plexus, must be 24 inches or more. 25, even. Many rockers would wear it that way, but Ethan seems particularly interesting with how he touches it, how he behaves with it. There we go again with the character study, you can’t help wondering.

But really. It’s any photographer’s dream when someone moves their hair around so damn naturally. Gives a great variety to how it frames and shades the face. You like to play with light all the time. And hey, why ask for eye contact when he does even better posing in other ways. The body, too, Ethan’s posture is great. Victoria and Thomas often bend to really get into their power chords, Damiano frequently hunches forward for a belt. But Ethan’s throned at his kit like some royals taught him to be a good boy. Back straighter than a pole, how the hell.

No glance in your direction still, even if you return from your last row spot to move around on stage with the camera. Which gives the band a motivation boost and chances to try out gestures up close, too, so even better. Hey, maybe it doesn’t annoy them. You can actually get used to it, this way of photographing them is all dynamic. Nearing the end of the first rehearsal, you’re all busy maneuvering between Thomas and Damiano to get a nice semi-profile from Ethan’s left side. Gotta work with it not against, you chant to yourself as a mantra, and it seems easier to stick to than you thought.

How glossy all that hair is commands all the attention of your shutter release in and of itself. That he takes good care of it and has been growing it since forever shows a dedicated guy. It’s actually quite wavy. The band arrived in the pouring rain and Ethan’s curly strands at the crown and nape of the head were definitely showing — super cute. An army of stylists took on the resulting humidity frizz. They whipped out the straightening iron and protective spray, and even now before the big performance, Ethan brushes his hair out in front of you, and sweeps it around with his fingers anyway. You take pictures of the bits you find most candid, and decide to rather perfect single shots instead of making several in a row. The more you photograph him, the more you want to discover his essence in one picture. His sheer presence almost begs for it, it’s ridiculous.

Victoria on the other hand has no problems with rapid-fire releases and comes close to your lens to pull funny faces. She’s got some of the coolest poses you’ve ever seen with her bass, and hops around the stage like a bunny to the beat. Thomas is a virtuoso and pro who keeps on doing what he does when you make him pose, and Damiano can flirt with any camera ever. He even lowers his red leather jacket off his collar bones for you to have a great shot. He’s promising and most definitely a born divo, your boss will be happy with those pictures most definitely.

Then again. Behind that supposed hedonism is so much hard work and thought. Damiano even gives you ideas for angles during the second rehearsal. „Hm, maybe stand on the amplifier?“ Eagle perspective, not a bad idea at all. After trying out said suggestions with the help of triggered stage security making sure you don’t fall off the construction („eh, Damiano always suggests the most reckless things to staff, don’t mind him“), you find yourself concentrating on what goes on at the back of the stage all over again.

Ethan is busy practicing a new solo which has you curious about whether it’s for an upcoming album. Though again — the shoes cause trouble. Ethan complains again, the music stops. That could very well be the reason why he seems so preoccupied today, or is it? The manager tells the stylist, and the stylist hurries, voilà, Ethan has a new pair of shoes brought in. Ones with a thicker sole, bit of a chunky heel, and laced up rather than being slippers, a drummer’s worst nightmare as you have learned today.

You wait until he changed. Then snap some more pictures how he continues practicing calmly, and the sound did improve since he can kick the bass drum better now. Now you position yourself across the stage all over, in the empty audience ranks. Ethan is the most radiant and confident when you just take a step back. But well, he still sweeps his hair around a whole lot and looks even more tense-looking than Damiano who’s doing vocal warmups and jumping jacks, „Come on guys, come on, we’re starting in 30 minutes!“.

You can tell he does it more often when he’s nervous. And that means he does it very often. People would probably assume it’s vanity, or the fact that the hair gets in the way. You can see that for him it’s a place of distraction, maybe safety. A gesture like an anchor. He’s used to it being long just like his eye shadow being dark and smoky all day. He knows the drums by heart, if it falls in his face no need to shake it away. And besides. The strands reach below his shoulder blades, it stays down his back if he doesn’t move around too much. He could easily tie it up as well. All those things go through your mind without you even knowing why.

To switch things up a little, you photograph Thomas fooling around with Victoria at the snack bar, stuffing fries up their noses, and already see the lighting technicians do their final check. Some of them you know briefly, you made shots at this venue before, last year for a Shakespeare theatre play. You did some freelance work in the scene, but now you’re put to the test for more involved jobs. Hard to complain though, Måneskin are amazing in front of the camera. If Damiano is not the ideal Hamlet, you don’t know anymore.

Something new happens all the time, the expressions are priceless. Ethan’s in particular, when he does his wide-eyed surprise faces learning that there’s actually healthy food at the snack bar. „Vitamins, how nice.“ — Thomas, pokerfaced, reacts with eating a mayonnaise-dripping sandwich. Ethan, unfazed. Headed straight to the fruits. You’ve never seen a tall silver glitter tower like him walking around biting a bright red apple. Well, you can take Jacob out of twilight, but not the twilight out of Jacob. Snap, another picture. Clash of words, that’s a nice theme.

The concert of this evening seems particularly energetic and leaves your camera roll with some brilliant, tweet-worthy material. Damiano covered in confetti, eyeliner running. Victoria on the shoulders of Ethan while he’s playing her bass. Thomas, stagediving. Fans waving banners and chanting along to Seven Nation Army. Your ears are ringing when the light technicians close down the stage two hours later. Thomas really played his soul out with the solos, and your feet seem to vibrate. That’s your body thinking Victoria’s bass is still playing, but the magazine is very happy with how the pictures turned out after you send the whole batch to them as soon as you can.

Little to no retouching, zooming, or cropping necessary. Ethan is just perfect as he is, you feel like you captured him well. After swiping through the gallery on your tablet, you think Victoria has some great ant’s eye perspective shots as well. Those go right on your own blog, she’s just amazing. The magazine has an enthusiastic article typed out already. Damiano’s mid-air split on beat for the final song makes the cover story on Monday, and Måneskin’s manager comes back to you a week later. „What would you think about doing some behind the scenes stuff for us? We’re planning a music video!“

And that’s how you end up in a Sicilian restaurant with Måneskin and crew a week later, stuffed with Calzone and mind filled with Damiano’s inspiring words (and the occasional catchy freestyle rap). The MV is as good as finished. Thomas had shown you around the mansion they were shooting at, and you could convince a taciturn Ethan to walk between the marble statues and boxwood trees in the garden. With his black cape on, a rhinestone choker, and the low-cut lacey blouse that the MV director was obsessed with as well, asking you to focus on it. Your best shot even ends up in the thumbnail of the Youtube video without you even expecting it would.

All the garden pictures turned out mindblowing. If not iconic, the best project you had so far. Gets to show you the best things are often improvised. Ethan, stoic as always, sat at the base of armor-clad Emperor Augustus twisting into the blue sky in a large gesture. The marble was a perfect contrast. Ethan ate a ripe pear from a tree, even that was aesthetically pleasing, then leaned against a hunting Apollo, and you also framed him from the back next to Aphrodite and Cesar. He put on his sunglasses underneath Achilles, and knelt at the feet of a Pietà replica. Marvelous panorama shots, with him the shining center. Well, we know since Queen that the drummer is the unrealistically pretty one.

The whole picture series is blowing up on your blog for the whole afternoon. „Count Dracula on a stroll in Versailles — eugh, begone sunlight!“ is what a comment neatly sums it up as. People seem to especially like the shot where Ethan playfully put his cape over Pallas Athena’s spear with a blurry Thomas having a laughing fit in the background. Well, even Count Drac gets photobombed sometimes. Your phone buzzes with notifications every other minute, you do notice it against your thigh. But the insalata of the restaurant is good and the night is young. Victoria and the manager tell old stories of Thomas snapping a guitar string while he was trying to serenade a highschool crush. Ethan scolds them for making fun of it.

Damiano gets drunk and dances on the table, the MV director discusses new ideas, some walk-in fans take pictures. The temperature is still unbearable. You order a dessert to share with Victoria and Ethan. A large tiramisu that the waiter cuts in three pieces, and it’s truly delectable. The chocolate, so crunchy, melty. The cream, fluffy and cool, making for a funny white beard that makes Ethan look like an arctic scientist returning from an expedition.

Of course, you take pictures, all the food is documented. As are late night restaurant shots with Damiano’s heels peaking into the frame when you photograph the band’s friendship bracelets, hand-made by Victoria on a tour bus last year. Damiano’s back down on the table soon, singing, while Ethan creates a beat with two forks. Thomas also agrees to take your camera for a while so you’d be in the frame for a change, too.

You pose for a group picture, or rather a group hug, and being in the middle …Ethan’s arm wraps around your shoulder loosely, hair dangling into his face, but also brushing yours. He focuses on the camera, facing away from you. The schooled eye could catch you breaking a sweat in the resulting photo. Ironically, the tiramisu doesn’t cool you down the way you thought. Thomas is too busy trying to figure out your camera dials and yelling „hey eyebrow king, smile!“ at Ethan.

A round of even more gelato goes down in spoons and spoons. The band members eat like they ran a marathon. Ethan clinches a third round because he can, unhealthy be damned, he needs some sugar and refreshment. And it’s true the MV shooting was strenuous in the heat, and had lots of intense performing parts. Even an invisible rope suspension were Thomas would descend from a ceiling during the chorus with little cherub wings attached to his back because why not. If the manager agreed to recreate this on tour some day, the pictures would be amazing.

You can’t help but think what kind of special effect would suit Ethan the most, and you come to the conclusion that a bridge lift would be the coolest thing ever. A rising part of the stage letting him emerge like an elevator from the underground. Maybe using smoke machines, too. The idea twirls around in your mind so intensely, Damiano asks if you’re wasted. You’re always getting carried away with all kinds of fantasies like that for over a week now. A dreamy photographer? Not unusual, but it’s seriously distracting you from the present moment.

The crew slowly heads home, and the band decides (translation: Victoria’s mood is) to head to the movies. Just when the waiter arrives with the bill, Damiano spills panna cotta all over Ethan by accident. So bad he’s all sticky from the shoulders down, making Ethan opt for the hotel instead. Besides, he’s been drumming his soul out, sleep is so needed now. Since the group is already gone and there’s still a forgotten cymbal left to carry back to the equipment bus by the hotel, you help Ethan maneuver it around. The heat is making either of you sweat, even with the full dark of the night coming up.

The gaffer lady you’re sharing a hotel room with is already fast asleep. Damn it. You want to cut a video and make screenshots with the laptop being decently bright. And with some volume if possible, you don’t find headphones in the darkness of the room. Ethan clears the desk in his own room for you after removing his make-up. He looks so young and beautiful and tired.

You type and drag and double click yourself through the video and do some last blog updates to deal with all the notifications. Ethan lends you some headphones, but you only keep them on one ear. The humming is too nice to ignore. Nor do you know what to even expect. The bathroom door is open, Ethan is topless washing the lace blouse by hand. Only wearing bellbottom pants and his lace choker — nothing else. He’s fully immersed in his task. He even adds some other shirts and silk scarves into the soap water along the way while he’s at it.

You’ve never seen someone do their own laundry so systematically. Ethan looks like Prince Caspian at the sink, wielding the almond soap bar like his weapon of choice against the enemies of Narnia (the devious panna cotta that’s still sticking to everything). He might be all mysterious, but he’s well able to curse all kinds of things. You tease Ethan for dropping his gentlemanly behavior for a stain of dessert. Ethan insists you sound like Thomas trying to test him with his slick comebacks, which makes you laugh. The blog has calmed down a little and your eyes hurt from editing, so you call it a day and send one last e-mail.

Ethan is drowning in bubbles at this point. The whole room smells like fabric softener. He thanks you for helping him carry around the equipment earlier. In return, you say grazie for him being your perfect muse in the garden today. Philosopher he is, Ethan remarks how Måneskin is usually the one searching for muses, now he ended up one himself — „Maybe not a bad thing, eh. Become the thing you want or something.“ That’s way too deep for a summer night in Sicily, and both of you need a huge portion of sleep. Tomorrow, lots of schedule. You do find yourself wanting to help lick that dessert off his chest. No way you’d tell him.

Ethan waddles off to shower after a crooked, reserved smile for a good night departure. When you close the door to your room and start brushing your teeth, the other members’ voices emerge in the hotel corridor — they’ve returned from the movies. Damiano is even more wasted than before and audibly sings. „You’ve looked at the photographer lady in a certain way earlier, huh. I saw, I saw!“ Victoria does a loud ‚shh‘ noise, and the stoic reply is a simple „Sleep, Damiano, you’ve had too much.“ Thomas giggles, and four doors click shut. Damiano’s singing is now muffled for two minutes until it’s silent. How the fuck can you even sleep after hearing that.

You assumed that Ethan would treat you differently the next morning, in whatever shape or form. But he doesn’t. The greeting is short as it would always be, and he informs you that he did manage to wash out the sugary clay from his clothes as he puts it. Damiano says nothing, adjusts his rings. Thomas randomly pulls zippers at his packed-up equipment. Victoria headed to the car already. Downtown to a studio it goes. The group gets styled to perfection, twenty minutes later they make a reaction video to the newly released MV teaser. Ethan talks about enjoying the sculptures in the garden.

Three hours down the line, you shoot some promotional pictures of them at a pool. Thomas has the time of his life perfecting his diving board skills, and Damiano creates the musical background, singing and prancing. The aerials would make literal perfect editorial-in-VOGUE material. In the meantime, Victoria dozes in the sun. Ethan dives. Sometimes just sitting at the bottom of the pool, othertimes swimming back and forth. The art director suggests you to go into the water, too. He’s right, the perspective works out well this way.

You’re basically standing in there with your flowy pantalon pants and camisole, using a waterproof camera. Your bikini is back at the hotel. It doesn’t matter, everything will dry quickly, the others went in the pool with clothes as well. And you’re all too wrapped up in your passion in the first place. You marvel at how fun the whole scenery looks through your lens. Their outfits are cropped and luminous, today’s color is bright red. You order the lighting assistant back and forth, get some more great Thomas frames where he tosses around a volleyball that the manager brought along. Less rock than usual, but it works. Måneskin at a pool in Sicily.

Damiano splashes water around like crazy. Victoria joins the fun as well, splashing right back. It’s infernal. Well, those are going to be dynamic pictures, you think, and the cameraman never dies, so. Ethan resurfaces every other minute, wiping the chlorine from his eyes. He slicks his hair back with both hands, looking down his body learning how his shirt has become completely transparent. He covers his chest with his hair, quickly, then submerges again. It’s strange. Being topless is usually no big deal in Måneskin.

Almost 12 o’clock. Thomas and Damiano wander off to work on some lyrics, probably the title that the drum solo is part of. All top secret. Victoria returns to her sun lounger, checking her phone. The crew heads for lunch, but you stay in the water, gladly you put sunscreen on earlier. You ask Ethan to try some seated or floating poses at the bottom of the pool that you saw him practice earlier. „No worries, keep your eyes closed.“

What unfolds before you is the most beautiful thing. Ethan’s shirt fans out like a red jellyfish underwater, playing around his body. His figure is just enviable. He gets the hang of it and knows quite how to move. Or rather, to remain stable when the pose is perfect. Hands above his head, horizontal, or seated, only one foot lightly sweeping over the pool floor, or on one knee, as if he proposed.

Raising his arms helps him sink down and settle, as if he immersed himself in deep meditation. Although the purpose of meditating is to be present, isn’t it. And that’s what he feels like. Ethan would normally switch on autopilot for most of his public interactions, now he’s alive and fully in the concentrated movements of the photoshoot. So much about improvising all over again. The hair creates the most incredible shapes like a black, wide brushstroke, clearly outlined. Thank god you have the waterproof camera. These are moments you’ll never forget.

Your blog notifications keep on bleeping throughout the afternoon. The promotional pictures are a hit. Måneskin’s manager is basically waving five new contracts in front of your face at dinner, but you’re kind of spaced out again. The cozy, rose-ranked atmosphere of the street café you went to is inspiring, and the members dressed up in the most fancy suitwear. Men in Black? Måneskin in Black. It’s almost as if fate read your mind. Ethan is looking at you very intently from across the table when the minestrone is served.

Pasta shells, parsley, vegetables and basil leaves. The scent surrounds the entire table. Damiano, in serious mode tonight, is too busy finding new rhymes and an alternative chorus with Thomas who wildly brainstorms. Victoria drinks, loudly chats with the gaffer lady that you share a room with, and they use a leaf of a palm tree pot plant to tickle Damiano. Thomas plays the acoustic guitar. Ethan and you end up smiling briefly at another. „Bon apetit,“ you say. It’s almost 34° celsius. That’s going to be an entire pile of cheesecake gelato tonight.

Five signed contracts later and halfway through a hefty caprese cake, the title song is finished. An ode to Marlena, fierce like the Mediterranean sea. The piece certainly sounds exactly like this place. Strangers listen to Damiano performing bits and pieces, but you decide to disperse when too many cellphones come out. Damiano wants to go to a bar, Thomas and Victoria carry home their guitars, or to the hotel to be exact, and bags of newly shopped vintage clothes. You ask Ethan if there are any cinemas around the area. „We missed out last time, remember.“

The Palazzo Theater is a small and hidden insider tip far from the main street with its busy beach tourists. Under bulbous metal balconies and peach-colored facades, a small entrance with lanterns on each side guides you inward. Ethan almost hits his head, it’s so low. He’s wearing glossy red bottoms under his suit pants, you’re out and about with a 6’2 giant after all — a statue by himself. A small man with a pipe sells you cheap tickets for a Mads Mikkelsen movie and lemonade, Ethan picks up an XXXL caramel popcorn bucket. You think he’s flexing, but you get a sudden heureka by looking at it twice.

Unlike the S, M, and L bags, it’s thick cardboard and drum-shaped. Oh my god, obviously. Which fine percussionist could ever resist such temptation striped in red and white, the sound deep and dull? It makes you smile how Ethan pursues his instrument even when he seemingly doesn’t, it really has to be a hobby at heart. That’s how a job becomes a profession, and a profession a vocation, your uni professor’s other favorite words all over again. The latter’s words have gotten you far so you again trust the insight that came to you through that quote.

Seeing Ethan standing there, you can almost see the childlike joy at imagining it being empty and ready to get turned around. A tuxedo Italian with Louboutin heels and a ginormous popcorn drum, half past eleven somewhere in Palermo: Ingenious combination, you snap a picture. Ethan makes a cute face, posing like a pinup of the 50s. Who knows how many vintage store posters he’s seen during tours, he must have picked it up there. And— Is he blushing? Must be the dim lights in here.

Off you go to the auditorium. Ethan, who balance the popcorn with all care in the world like it’s his baby, walks the aisle slower than you. The slim steps don’t have any floor lighting. Not very heel-friendly, but since it’s not a huge budget theater and few people dare spike heels on those cobblestones outside anyway, the stairs shall be forgiven. You take out your phone and offer your arm. For every gentleman it takes a gentlewoman, duh. Like rock’n’roll and the camera staff, chivalry (or shevalry as Damiano calls it when Vic holds the door open) never dies. He mumbles a thanks, you climb upward to the fourth-last row, Ethan holds on tight.

No ankles twisted and not one popcorn spilled, you get seated on red velvet. The chairs are dated, but nevertheless ultra comfortable. Nobody else is here. The adverts roll, Ethan cracks open the lemonade bottle caps with his chunky golden lighter because he can. You toast to Mads Mikkelsen’s bone structure and good minestrone, Måneskin’s finished title track, the promo pics, and the discovery of Ethan’s favorite new drum. A whopping five things to toast about? The night’s going to be great.

Damiano catwalking across the screen, wearing a Versace skirt in the middle of otherwise-boring commercials does shake you up. He was picked as a testimonial recently. Though, your pulse is high enough. Ethan’s hair is brushing against your shoulders, not to mention his goddamn massive arms. He can’t get out a single word either for the entirety of the ads, avoiding eye contact all over again. Just how much suspense can starting to eat the first popcorn have. Well, you pick two from the very top and start munching.

Mads does a great job opening the movie as one would expect, but you just can’t concentrate. Instead, you stress-eat popcorn. Which makes Ethan do the same thing, at least he’s somewhat fixated on the screen. After the first ten minutes, he shakes his head. „That makes no sense at all,“ he clears his throat. „Yeah, yeah it clearly doesn’t,“ you agree, basically on Torchio-autopilot yourself for the lack of a better reply. You were too busy figuring out the components of his aftershave rather than the thin plot. Shifting in your seat, chugging lemonade…

The air conditioning is scarce, but at least the screen is quite large and proper. You try to focus on the cinematography and do small talk about it. If there’s something you can comment on without having followed the string of action, it’s at least this. You might be nervous, but you’re still a photographer. „Um, isn’t this chainmail nice in the closeup?“ — „Hm, I guess it works. We should ask Damiano to request something like this from Versace.“ — „Medieval Måneskin Rockers?“ — „Something like that.“ — „Hilarious.“

By the twenty-minute mark, the popcorn drum is almost empty. Gladly, that stuff just shrinks to bits in the stomach. The lemonade just has to galvanize it. You might be able to distract yourself with the camera shots and the last caramel chunks, but that doesn’t change Ethan’s long legs and Acqua di Parma perfume next to you. Yep, you finally figured out what it was, it wasn’t the aftershave. And well. Ethan smells like hotel soap from Milano to Napoli and back.

That scent basically dominates all the others besides a hint of cigar and basil and citrus-y deodorant mixed with runny sweat. God fuck, you can barely stand it. And the almond scent. You take a chance to at least jokingly point it out to him. The random movie flashback sequence is boring — and just as nonsensical as before, no offense to Mads though, he’s just walking around in chain mail — enough to deviate from whatever choppy convo you had going on before.

„I actually washed it twice,“ Ethan pulls off the silky scarf that functions as his current tie, and you recognize it. „The strawberry sauce was hard, but the cranberries… God no, I’ll never go near pana cotta again. Nothing against cream desserts.“ You take the scarf, smell it. Did he literally just hand it to you? Figures, he’s sweating bullets, too. And oh shit, he hasn’t talked that much all evening.

You slowly shift from bodies turned to the screen to facing each other. So up close, so up front, only God can help you know. His eyes are dark and reflective of the film’s flickering lights and changing scenes. You wish you could photograph them on sight. It would be as glimmering as your view from the hotel room, overwatching the unobstructed stars of the Mediterranean bay down the boulevard.

But it’s like you’re stuck in your position this way, feverishly thinking about a reply. What to pick up on, what to pick up on. You think about today, the evening where you edited things in his room. „Uh well, drop your laundry in the pool next time,“ you laugh, more than tentative, with your fingers randomly curling around the scarf. „The chlorine stuff will do the job for you. It’s so aggressive, it bleached by pants one shade lighter.“

Saved. Smooth transaction. Phew. „Oh, the pool was horrible. Not the photos, I mean… I don’t know how you can poison water that way.“ — „I know right? It’s still in my nose. But yeah, was a good idea with the underwater thing. The photos turned out really well.“ — „I really haven’t done something like that before but I guess it turned out hm, nice?“ — „Come on! Nice is understated. Are you fishing for compliments?“ — „No no, by all means!“ — „The one kneeling. It’s my favorite. I don’t even know what to do with all these pictures.“

„I don’t know. Maybe keep them?“ — „Keep… for what?“ — „It’s a separate series, right. The art director didn’t request it. Maybe they can be used for something later on during promotions.“ — „Yeah. We’re always a little extracurricular,“ you laugh again, tense in your voice, and empty your lemonade completely. „This, too,“ Ethan points at the theatre in general. „You’re good to talk to. The better version of alone time.“ — „Thank you. You’re great to go out with. I… really like it.“ Beautiful nature scenes show on screen, but they’re nothing but a blur. You take Ethan’s hands in the dark and smile. „Maybe we should do it more often.“

masterlist | bookmark/read it on ao3

#maneskin #ethan torchio #ethan torchio x reader #maneskin fanfic #maneskin scenario #måneskin #maneskin fluff #maneskin x reader #maneskin fanfiction #ethan x reader #ethan torchio fluff #ethan torchio fanfic

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johnkrrasinski · 3 years

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𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜

Chapter 4: hell was the journey but it brought me heaven (final)

full masterlist // series masterlist // commission open // support my work

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,943

Summary: blessed with telepathic abilities since birth, you were captured by HYDRA and turned into one of their weapons to kill. after the blip, you were pardoned by the government and you were obliged to check up with dr. raynor everyday which you had no clue would lead you to the one soul you’d been waiting for.

Warnings: SMUT!! (18+) dirty talk, oral (female receiving), fingering, shower sex, happy ending.

A/N: this series is dedicated to the lovely @ohmickeyhenry who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for trusting me with your story. i sincerely hope you like it.

You sat on the front porch as your fingers flipped through the page of the romance novel you had your nose in. It was a beautiful day, the weather wasn’t too hot or too cold, perfect to spend hours escaping into a story outside. Alpine purred on the chair where Bucky would sit if he was here but he wasn’t because he was on an overseas mission with Sam and though you offered to come with him, Tony said that it would be best if you sat this one out. You didn’t take it personally, however, it was hard to be separated from him for nearly a month.

Bucky said he’d be coming home soon and though the mission kept delaying them to come home, Bucky called and texted you every day to let you know that he was alright and how far on completing the mission had they gone. You were glad that Sam and Bucky had each other while you weren’t around to take care of him because you knew that Sam was the only person who could ground him other than you.

You and Bucky had been together for nearly five months now, after your recovery in Wakanda and adjusting to the new life of being superheroes, you both decided that you wanted to settle in a more remote place. All of the Avengers had their own places outside of the compound so you thought, why don’t you get yours? You talked about getting your own place in Brooklyn but eventually, you came to a decision where somewhere in the country would be better for both of your mental beings, while also still residing in the New York area so that you’d be ready in case there are emergency missions.

Since moving to the countryside, you had felt much more at peace and you had learned more about yourself than before. You were in the middle of the process of moving in when Bucky was needed by Tony to take care of an international matter with Sam, so Tony helped call in some people to help you with your stuff.

The place you had with Bucky was lovely, it wasn’t anything big or swanky, it was simply a rural rustic home that blends woods and stones as the foundation. It had a large loft where you placed your bed, and the roof had upper windows which shed lights into the entire room. It was even more stunning at night where you could see the stars and the moon that illuminated the dark space. From the veranda, you could enjoy the beautiful view of greenery and the lake surrounding you. It was heaven, but most importantly, it was your and Bucky’s little heaven.

You’d often feel lonely living in the cabin, so you decided to adopt a cat while Bucky was away. You didn’t tell him because you wanted it to be a surprise. You named her Alpine. You’d always wanted to have a pet and now that you had your own place, you could have one without worrying it would bother anyone.

You talked to Bucky this morning and he estimated that he’d be coming home in two days, which means he’d be home by his birthday. You couldn’t think of a more perfect gift than this adorable, blue-eyed cat. It was as if she got them from her dad whom she had yet to meet. You also wanted to make his birthday and celebrate his coming home more special so you put down the book and went to the grocery store in town that afternoon to shop for the ingredients to bake a cake.

You had learned a lot of new things after you moved here, and baking was quickly becoming your hobby, so you were excited to utilize that new skill to surprise the love of your life. You spent the next day in the kitchen so once Bucky walked through the front door, the cake would be ready to be served. You were giddy thinking about the look on his face and how proud you would feel to make him happy with something you made of your own.

You were lying on your couch with Alpine by your feet, reading the book that you didn’t get to finish yesterday when you heard your phone notifying you a text had been received.

I’m outside, babydoll.

You instantly got up from your couch and put your book on the table. Your first thought this morning was Bucky would back to your arms this afternoon and you were ecstatic. You had missed him terribly and you wanted to curl up in his embrace and never let him go. He was your anchor and you were his rock, you both needed each other to get through the days. How you managed to survive so long without him was beyond you.

You chose a nice outfit, nothing fancy just a simple sundress that you feel your best in, put on some makeup and did your hair. Though you didn’t have a clue on makeup products, let alone apply them all over your face, you did spend a handful of times watching Youtube for guidance. You knew you didn't have to put all that effort to keep Bucky in love with you but you wanted to do something nice for him. For the first time in forever, you were a free woman who was allowed to make her own choices, you were going to revel in exploring them.

You opened the door and there he was, as handsome as the devil, as gentle as an angel. Everything about him captivated you yet, he soothed every nervous system in your body too. He was grinning at you like he had just won a prize and you couldn’t help but throw yourself at him as soon as the door was fully opened. “Bucky!”

He hugged you back, holding you so tightly to his chest and he kissed you as a lover would until you needed air. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he swept the hair that was falling on your face, slightly hiding your beauty.

You smiled at his flattery, “I got a surprise for you…”

“A surprise?” He looked genuinely perplexed. “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s your birthday, silly. And to celebrate you coming home, of course, because I missed you so badly.”

“Sweetheart, you don't need to get me anything, you’re all the blessing I need in my life.”

“And you are mine, but you deserve more. So, close your eyes.” You ordered him like you were an excited 10 years old ready to show off her science project to her parents. He did as he was told and you took his hand and led him to the kitchen where his cake was sitting perfectly. “Don’t open your eyes until I tell you!”

He chuckled, “okay.”

Bucky trusted you wholeheartedly so he didn’t worry he’d walk into a wall or slam his hips to the kitchen counter as he was being led down to where his cake was. “Okay, now open your eyes.” He did so and he saw you standing behind the tiny dining table, near the kitchen chanting Ta-Da! Presenting a chocolate birthday cake, in the shape of a heart in front of you.

You lit up the candles that were in the shape of 106 and you brought the cake closer to him, “happy birthday, my love.”

Bucky was grinning from ear to ear, he couldn’t contain the happiness swelling in his heart. While he was on his bike, driving from the compound to his cabin-like home, all he expected was a warm shower and being tangled between the sheets with you. Since he was turned into The Winter Soldier, he no longer cared about birthdays or his age. Time felt blurry and all that mattered was his purpose in his life which is to make amends to the wrongs he committed during his winter soldier days and the few people that he cared about.

But now you were in his life, you were going to make sure his birthdays are special and that every second you both spent together was precious. “I got another surprise for you…” You walked to the couch to carry Alpine and when Bucky saw her, his eyes lit up.

“You got us a cat?!” You handed her to Bucky gently like a newborn baby and Bucky cradled her to his chest, looking like an affectionate father.

“I did. I felt lonely while you were away so I thought I’d get a pet now that we’ve got our own place and I saw her at the shelter when I went to town and she looked so adorable, I just had to take her home, Buck,” you watched Bucky lovingly stroke the cat’s ear.

“I never had a pet before…”

“I know, and neither had I so I thought, the three of us would make a wonderful family.”

“Thank you, doll. This is… This is the best birthday gift I could ever ask for.”

“You’re welcome, love. By the way, her name’s Alpine.”

Bucky nodded, “suits her.”

“Now, as delicious as that cake looks, I really need to take a shower, would you mind joining me?” Bucky held out his hand for you.

“There’s nothing else I’d rather do,” Bucky took your hand and carried you in bridal style to your bathroom, which had rustic walls like the rest of the house and dark brown sink vanity with a mirror at the centre above.

Bucky put you down and you both began stripping out of your clothes. You helped Bucky with his once yours were on the hanger because you wanted to feel him, really feel him now. Once only his boxer remained, you slid the shower glass door and you pulled him, giggling like teenagers trying to sneak out in the middle of the night as he struggled to take off his boxer with the way you were pulling him.

You turned on the shower, just warm enough to soothe your nerves and help Bucky relax. Bucky cupped your face and you both began making out, the stream of water made it difficult to keep your eyes open but you always got so lost in his kisses that you could never keep your eyes open even if you wanted to. It felt like heaven to feel those lips again after a month of his absence.

Bucky lifted you and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He slammed you to the bathroom glass as he dominated your mouth, his tongue tangled with yours as his vibranium arm leaned against the glass. Bucky trailed kissed to the column of your neck and you threw your head back, giving him easier access. He bit the skin, marking you as his.

The water kept flowing down and you both forgot what you were there for in the first place. “Oh, missed you so fucking much, doll.”

“I missed you too,” you said as you panted.

“Those nude pictures you sent weren’t helping either. Each time I see you naked, it went straight to my cock. It was torture not to have you right away.” Bucky put you down and kissed your body, down to your stomach until he reached the part where you needed him most. Bucky lifted your right leg onto his shoulder and kissed the inside of your thigh as he left a love bite with his teeth there too.

You didn’t mind, you were his as much as he was yours and you loved it when he got a little rough or possessive, though you knew Bucky would never hurt you and if he did, you wouldn’t hesitate in telling him. But you loved to walk around with his marks on you, you wore them proudly.

Bucky dipped his head to your core, tasting your arousal like a famished man. He had been deprived of your taste for a month, he wasn’t going to hold back. He could spend hours in between your legs if you let him and he’d never get tired of it. Bucky licked a stripe of your slit, making you throw your head back again and moan.

He grabbed your arse to keep you standing, with the way he was devouring you, your thighs began to shake, and you would’ve crumbled to the floor if he wasn’t holding you. You tugged his hair, keeping his face close to your cunt. You couldn’t help but grind yourself onto his face and you could feel him smirking.

The way his stubble grazed your delicate skin was tantalizing, you’d tried to close your legs a few times around his head but he always held them back. You could feel your muscles tightening, but before you could burst, Bucky put your leg to the floor and he stood up, kissing you again and you could taste your arousal all over his tongue. It was erotic yet intimate at the same time.

Bucky grabbed your hips and spun you around, you could feel his stiff member nudging you from behind as you both fought for dominance with your tongues. Bucky took a fistful of your hair and lifted your head back, once again trailing open-mouthed kisses to your throat. His fingers made their way down to your clit, rubbing it in circles furiously as if you weren’t soaked enough already from the way his tongue ingurgitated you.

You whimpered at his touch, the way he always knew how to light up every cell in your body with his touch was a wonder. It was as if your body had given itself completely to him and it was going to comply with whatever his touch tells you to do. Like the way you willingly bared your soul to him, you didn’t fight it at all, let the love and passion you had for each other consume you.

“You’re dripping all over my hand, doll.”

“I need you to fuck me now, please.” You were losing your mind with the way he was stimulating you, you needed to have him inside you now.

“Anything for you, baby.”

Bucky used your wetness to lubricate his member, making it easier for him to slide in. You leaned against the glass with your hands against it as he gripped your hip with his flesh hand and your shoulder with his vibranium one. Bucky pushed himself until he was fully sheathed and he groaned, “oh fuck, I ain’t gonna last long. Missed this tight cunt so much.”

Bucky gave you a few seconds to adjust to his size, and once you told him to move, he began with slow paces. You threw your head back and leaned against his shoulder as he kept thrusting in and out of you at a faster speed. Bucky moved his vibranium arm to your hip and wrapped his flesh hand around your jaw, directing it to his face so he could kiss you deeply.

The sounds of your skin slapping were salacious. Bucky felt you clenched around him and the coil in your stomach tightened. His fingers that were gripping your waist once again furiously rubbed your clit, igniting the fire in your muscles. Your cries grew louder as his rhythm began to falter, and the dam in you broke, your squirts streamed down your thighs, clouding your brain with pleasure.

Bucky started to get messy as he chased his own orgasm. He followed you to the place of euphoria, releasing himself deep inside you, panting your walls with hot white gush. Bucky leaned his forehead against the glass as he breathed heavily with his heart thumping against his chest. His weight on your back was comforting so you stayed there for a while until you both began to come down from your highs.

Bucky pulled out of you and his orgasm ran down your thighs, following yours. You turned around to face him and kiss him again. “That was fucking amazing,” Bucky said as he cleaned you up.

“I should be the one doing that, I wasn’t the one who just came home from a one month mission,” you retorted as you watched him going down to scrub your thighs where your juices were sticking on your skin.

“Well, now that I’m here, let me take care of my girl, will ya?”

You only chuckled and eventually, you both helped rinsed each other off. Once the shower was done, Bucky dried you with a towel and carried you to your bed, which he had yet to sleep on since it got here.

Life was a funny thing. Sometimes it dragged you down to hell, making you question if you had ever committed such a heinous crime in your previous life that cost you such misery in your present. But then, slowly but surely, the journey that you had to endure, led you to your fate, for better or for worse.

You couldn’t change where you had been and what you had done, but you could choose how you were going to redeem yourself and how you were going to spend the remaining years of your life now. You didn’t know much about your future as an Avenger. Hell, you were barely an Avenger, to begin with, but eventually, when you were ready, you knew there’d be nothing too big to overcome because you had Bucky by your side to walk through the storm with.

You didn’t have the privilege to believe in mystical things such as lucky stars but you were going to thank whatever was out there for the invisible string that tied you to Bucky.

tags; @ohmickeyhenry @suitofvibraniumarmor @themaddies-obx @themaddies-obx @beminetokeep @bluemoon-icecream @bluemoon-icecream-blog @harprs @thefridgeismybestie @abitofeverythingg @wolfonthemoonwatchestvshows @julimelodi @bookscoffeandotherstuff @tanyaherondale @artisancowbells @ferxaniti @intothesoul @hallecarey1 @buckybarnesplumwhore @thefallenbibliophilequote @andiyholly @emizla @capxwinter @jevans2 @alwaysreadingimagineschick @swtltlmrvlgrl @extremelyblackandwhite

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atruththatyoudeny · 3 years

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Happy 28th! A new month - so new fics for you to find and enjoy! I can’t say it enough: all the authors in this fandom are truly amazing! Thank you so much for continuously sharing your hard work with us ♥ Here are the 14 fics I read and enjoyed this month:

A Hungry Heart | jacaranda_bloom | Great British Bake Off AU - famous/not famous - cliches - pining - angst - smut - 27k Harry Styles, florist and Great British Bake Off contestant, loves many things. He loves his flower shop, he loves baking, and there’s also that little crush he has on pop star Louis Tomlinson. But when Louis arrives on set as the surprise guest judge, Harry’s worlds collide. Throw in a cup of cuteness, a teaspoon of teasing, and a pinch of pining, and there’s all the ingredients for an epic love story, or absolute chaos. Or the one where the Bake Off tent has never been so hot, and it’s got nothing to do with what’s in the ovens.

Teenage Rebellion Never Worked Out So Well | panda_bear21 | arranged marriage - friends to lovers - 55k “I’m an adult!” He glanced down at Harry, who seemed anything but at the moment, where he was definitely on the brink of a temper tantrum. “We’re both adults!” Jay glanced to Anne again, before breathing out a heavy sigh. “Yes, but you’re both adults that do not have jobs and who live off of our money… Which means, you have to do what we say… or you’ll have to find a new place to live.” “You wouldn’t do that.” Louis dared, hoping his glare was enough to guilt trip his mother into calling the whole thing off. Or to tell them that it had all just been a huge joke and they weren’t actually being forced into marrying a complete stranger. “Oh, but we would.” Or the super cliché arranged marriage fic where things escalate way too quickly.

Heartbreak Hotel | noellehenry | time travel - 1950s - historical - pining - 29k British popstar Harry Styles is thrown back in time after an unfortunate accident on stage. He wakes up in a small town in the US in the 1950's, where life is slightly different from 2015. With help from Niall and Liam he tries to adjust to his new life; without mobile phones and a world wide web to keep up with the world and where showing interest in nice cute boys with bright blue eyes is a no-no. Time travel and 1950's AU where Liam is an English teacher, Niall owns the Best Song Ever record shop, James runs Corden's Diner, Elvis fan Louis is the cute boy with the blue eyes and Harry..... just tries to survive really.

Playdate | Larry_you_know | getting together - misunderstandings - kid fic - fluff - 7k When Harry’s sister asked him to pick up her son at a kids' birthday party he sure didn’t expect to be stunned by the blue-eyed brother of the birthday twins. Using his nephew to see Louis again, he falls hard and fast. But how does one turn a playdate into a real date?

tread lightly on my ground | fairytalelights | a/b/o - mpreg - touch-starved - miscommunication - friends to lovers - touch deprivation - smut - 21k No, that's the tragic part of this, the part that makes Harry feel like the universe is playing a cruel joke on him. The father of his baby is exactly right, exactly who he always imagined himself having kids with. He just imagined them married, bonded. Happy. He didn't imagine them barely talking, tip-toeing around each other because neither of them is brave enough to talk about what happened between them. He didn't imagine the father of his child not loving him back. or, the one where Harry is having Louis' baby, but Louis doesn't know it's his.

Not Ready for This | berzerkshires | kid fic - single parents - smut - 18k Prompt for HLSummerFest2021: Louis and Harry are both single fathers and their children decide to go out on a date. The dads insist on meeting one another before they agree to let their child go out on this date.

Secret's Safe With Me | alltheselights | boss/employee relationship - secret relationship - toxic relationship (not h/l) - slow burn - smut - 59k But here’s the thing about secrets that people tend to forget—they’re deeply personal things. Tiny pieces of information about someone that they keep locked inside and only let out at certain moments, or to certain people, or not at all. Secrets have value, you see, even if only to the person holding them inside. If those secrets were to be told, if those tiny jagged pieces of someone, the parts they hold most dear, the parts they hide out of shame or fear or regret—if those pieces were exposed to someone, it would have the potential to change everything. When bad turbulence and three glasses of wine have Louis spilling all of his secrets to the man sitting next to him on the plane, it's embarrassing, sure, but it's also easy enough to shrug off and block out of his memory forever. Or at least, it was until Louis went into work on Monday morning and realized that the man from the plane is the new CEO of his company.

Marks On My Baby | thinlines | a/b/o - college/university - friends to lovers - hurt/comfort - angst - fluff - smut - 32k “What’s that?” Harry hadn’t meant for his voice to sound so sharp and even he winced at his own outburst. It was more of a hiss than an actual question, but for now, he was too surprised to care. “What’s what?” The omega asked, eyebrows raised and lips pinched. Harry knew he was probably mad at him for interrupting his rant, but the alpha was too on edge to bother pleasing the boy. “On your neck… Your bondmark spot…” His voice had grown low and deep, almost a growl. Who knew a single love bite on his omega friend's neck would trigger Harry this much? Certainly not the alpha himself.

Rogue | Laventriloque | a/b/o - werewolves - minor character death - hurt/comfort - past abuse - past rape/non-con - soulmates - smut - 95k “No, Liam! How many times do I have to… before you finally… NO WAY … a rogue in our pack?… cannot trust him … don’t care to know him … have enough members to worry about.” He hears more indistinct shouts before he hears pretty clearly: “His own pack didn’t want him!” Sitting here, his precious bag between his feet and everyone in the room looking at him, some with pity, some with disdain, some with curiosity, Louis feels like someone squeezed his heart in their hands and isn’t letting it go. He wills his head to stay up high and his posture to stay confident. He will not flee the room. He will not let that stupid lump in his throat get the better of him. He will stay here until Liam returns. He will take the rejection in stride and move on. Like he’s been doing all his life." -- Louis is a rogue Omega who's suffered through rejection and abuse for the biggest part of his life. He stumbles onto the Styles pack, quite possibly the kindest one he's ever met.

indian summer | docklands | strangers to lovers - hurt/comfort - banter - smut - 30k Harry runs a smoothie shop, which also happens to be an ever-moving caravan. He spends one week in each location and drives straight to the next, always eager for adventure. It isn't until his van breaks down and he needs to call for a mechanic that he starts to ponder his life choices. Louis, the said mechanic, is an anchor in Harry's wild sea, but his hard metal might be too much for Harry's unpredictable antics.

A Silver Lining In A Storm (You Were Lightning, I Was Born) | FallingLikeThis | arranged marriage - royalty - a/b/o - mpreg - minor character death - murder - non-graphic violence - angst - hurt/comfort - 7k Omega Prince Harry had always known that he was going to have an arranged marriage. But after the death of his first fiancé, a man who turned out far worse than Harry thought possible, his subsequent marriage to the man's brother leaves Harry finding it difficult to trust that everything will work out. Especially considering the only responsibility he’s aware of is to give his husband, the future king, an heir.

A Twist of Fate | myfearlesslou | a/b/o - strangers to lovers - soulmates - angst - 35k Since the moment Harry presented as an omega, all he's ever wanted was to have a baby. Fate had another idea in mind for him. Giving up on trying to conceive, he decides to adopt a new born baby boy. After months of loving and caring for the boy, a strange man comes into his life, taking him by surprise. Not wanting to lose the child he's loved from the moment he laid eyes on him, Harry does whatever he can to keep the boy safe and in his arms. Even if that means following the handsome stranger to a part of the woods he's never seen before.

Trust Me Tonight | 28sunflowers | historical - royalty - regency - arranged marriage - first time - mpreg - pwp - 10k After Harry’s eighteenth birthday, his father calls him into a meeting to say that he is to be married to Prince Louis of France in just over a week. Harry is excited, of course. The arrangement is better than any he could’ve hoped for, with such a young, handsome and kind husband. There is just one issue: Harry doesn’t know what happens on his nuptials, or how to get pregnant to give Louis the heir that he needs.

i got a heart (but i don't got a soul) | tempolarriefics | mythical beings Á creatures - enemies to lovers - childhood friends - famous/not famous - soulmates - angel/demon relationship - demon/human relationship - 19k “We’re soulmates.” Louis’ eyes flick from the tattoo back to Harry’s face, where his eyes are shining with excitement. Louis wonders if he is supposed to feel excited, too. He’s supposed to feel something, surely, besides his usual bitterness for Harry. He thinks back to how Lottie had described meeting Sam, how she had known in her heart that he was meant for her even before he said his phrase. He can’t help but wonder if he would be feeling differently if he hadn’t gone and sold his soul. Or, the one where louis sells his soul before meeting his soulmate, harry is a popstar with a heart of gold, niall is inadvertently responsible for harry's boners, liam is a meddling angel, and zayn is a demon who made a mistake

#28th appreciation #fic rec #my fic rec #my reads #monthly fic rec #monthly reads #larry fics #completed fics

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bokutosworld · 3 years

Text

then and now | kuroo t.

pairing: kuroo tetsurō x f!reader word count: 1863 words, fluff! mutual pining! warning: manga spoilers, with mention of kuroo’s timeskip occupation summary: always the bridesmaid, never the bride. you thought your time would never come until someone from your past comes along and brings up something you’ve long forgotten. OR where you and kuroo make a silly marriage pact and he shows up after years apart to make it come true.

He chuckled, now comfortably holding your one hand and hiding it in his pocket to keep it warm. “Here I was wondering if you were waiting for me.

Because I was.”

The church bell tolls, white doves are released, and joyful cheer and applause erupts from the crowd as the newlywed couple steps out from the cathedral. The now husband-and-wife gaze at each other full of love, and it is a sight guaranteed to make one envious and long for that same kind of affection.

But to you, it’s a scene that you’ve seen so many times that it already feels like a short film played on repeat. For the past year, you’ve lost count of how many weddings you’ve attended – whether as a guest or part of the bride’s entourage – that you’ve acquainted yourself with the workings of the event.

Heck, you’ve even memorized the readings of the priest that if they ever need a replacement, you can be the stand-in and officiate the program.

However, this wedding was different. Your best friend of more than fifteen years is the one who walked down the aisle, and you’re more emotional than you expected you’d be. Earlier in the morning, she woke you up, feeling sentimental, and demanded a pep talk. It was laughable because, more than her, you thought it was you who needed that assurance as you sent off your childhood friend to a new journey in her life.

The whole ordeal felt surreal and somehow, a tad more personal, because it wasn’t just any bride – this was the same girl you grew up with, the one you’ve seen in diapers, the one who held your hand in the playground, the person who you always ran to for boy troubles. Watching her exchange vows and rings felt like a coming to life of a scrapbook page, a long-awaited dream that you’ve talked about together in sleepovers where none of you really slept.

It made you wonder if you will ever march down the same aisle towards the waiting arms of your beloved.

---

“What a wedding, huh?”

The hotel reception was no different to the ceremony that took place prior. This time again, you wore the bride’s maid-in-honor hat and only after making sure that everything – that included the food, drinks, and entertainment – were in place did you take your place on the table and chatted with your old friends from high school.

The conversation started off with comments on how grand, intimate, and special the ceremony was. They talked about how it was wedding season, counting just how many of their schoolmates have already been wed. And before you knew it, eyes were on you and you had an inkling of what would follow.

“So,” Yoshioka, your former student council president, turned towards you. “You’re the only bachelorette left in our batch. We’re just curious.”

You laughed awkwardly, “No, please don’t expect a wedding invitation from me anytime soon. I’m still happily single.” The smile you wore felt strained, but whether the other girls recognized it or not, they chose to not comment further.

“Besides, it’s a great source of joy for me just being able to see you guys get married.” Noticing that the lights have begun to dim and focused on the spot on the stage, you clapped your hands, “Now, let’s just enjoy Yukie’s wedding, alright! Look, they’re coming out.”

As soon as the couple walked to the floor for their first dance, you heaved a sigh of relief and slumped in your cushioned chair. They moved gracefully as one across the dance floor, seemingly lost in their own world as they gazed deeply in each other’s eyes and swayed to the tune of the love song.

You thought back to the conversation earlier and weirdly, you felt a pang inside. Truth is, in every wedding you’ve attended, you can’t help but feel wishful. You consider yourself successful in almost every aspect of your life but sometimes, it can feel dejecting when you return home to an empty apartment at the end of a tough workday.

A part of you craved to make that little girl’s dream come true of wearing the wedding dress that you’ve designed, staying up all night for a bridal shower, and walking down the aisle to where your lover was waiting.

When the couple’s first dance ended, the host entered the stage and the program officially began. You could only hope that hours would pass faster.

---

Two hours into the reception and you can already feel the shots kicking in your system.

It wasn’t a really good idea downing five straight shots of tequila. At first, you thought it would quell your nerves, make you let loose and be the funnier version of yourself as you stepped to the podium to deliver your congratulatory speech to the couple.

In retrospect, it looks like the drink did its job as you managed to emit laughter and emotional tears from the crowd as you reminisced on your relationship with the bride, recounting the story of how she fell deeply in love and decided that he was the one.

But now, hunched in your seat with head on your hands, you were seemingly tipsy and all you could think about was escaping outside for some fresh air.

So, you did. When the groom’s best man took the stage, you saw this as an opportunity to quietly slip to the balcony.

Shutting the door behind you with a quiet thud, you eyed the empty balcony and sat towards the nearest bench. The surface was a bit cold as the city was now ushering the season of fall, signaling the arrival of long nights and chilly evenings. You shivered slightly and tucked your coat closer to your body as you stare at the darkness.

You don’t know how long you’ve been outside until you heard the door open and in came a tall, attractive, and oddly familiar man. His face held a warm smile as you noticed that his gaze was directed towards you.

“Long day?”

And it was only until he stepped closer and stood in front of you, the moonlight illuminating his face and accentuating his features, that you realized who he was.

“Tetsurō?!”

When was the last time you saw the Kuroo Tetsurō? You racked your brain for your last encounter with him and your memories point to your high school graduation. All of a sudden, you felt small and your surroundings became hot as you stood in front of him. Your former childhood neighbor. Former best friend. Former crush.

Not that he had any idea about that last item.

“I thought I saw you earlier before the reception started,” he made himself comfortable on the bench, patting the space beside him to urge you to sit as well. “But it’s been so long since I last saw you so of course I thought I was hallucinating. Then you gave a speech on stage – which by the way, I thought was awesome, you’re still as witty as you were before – and my suspicions were confirmed.”

You were breathless. Speechless. What were the odds that your reunion with him would be at a wedding?

“Did Yukie send you the wedding invitation?”

His laugh echoed in the darkness of the night, “Yeah, she did. It was nice to see familiar faces again.” He stared back at you, “I missed everyone.” I missed you, he wanted to say.

You hummed in agreement and without realizing, the two of you engaged in a comfortable conversation with Kuroo leading just as he always did. Being charming just as he always was. Telling you stories from the part of the past that you didn’t know. Catching you up with his present where he now works in the sports promotion division of Japan Volleyball Association.

A small part of you was relieved to know that Kuroo was doing well and successful just as you always hoped he would be. Years of no contact with the boy that stole your heart from day one certainly left you lonely. You wouldn’t say it out loud but he was part of the equation of why you still haven’t tied the knot. It was silly but you always thought that no one could measure up to him.

Absentmindedly, you started fiddling with your fingers, a habit you’ve formed when you were feeling cold, and Kuroo noticed. And just as he always did back then, he enveloped your hands with his and brought them to his lips to blow warm air on them.

“That better?”

Your heart threatened to flutter, “Yeah, thanks.”

After a long while of silence, Kuroo spoke. “I see there’s still no ring on your fourth finger.” He was now nonchalantly stroking your hands, letting his fingers slip in yours.

You coughed nervously, averting your eyes from his deep ones. “Well, I haven’t really found anyone.”

He chuckled, now comfortably holding your one hand and hiding it in his pocket to keep it warm. “Here I was wondering if you were waiting for me.

Because I was.” Oh no, be still my heart, you thought.

Kuroo went on, “Remember that silly pact we made on the night before graduation?”

Your mind takes you back on that evening when you and Kuroo were sitting on the rooftop, away from the noisy crowds and drunk soon-to-be college students. This was your thing, enjoying the calmness and admiring the stars spread out in the night sky.

That evening, you and Kuroo talked about the uncertain future that lied ahead. That evening, you bared your soul to him, letting him in on your worries and you fell apart in his comforting presence. He, as always, acted as your anchor, assuring you that he would always be your biggest supporter and that he’d always cheer on you even from afar.

That evening, with the two of you drunk on the excitement and the many possibilities for the new chapter of life, he brought up a proposal.

“I have a crazy idea.” Kuroo linked his pinkie finger with yours. “If we’re still single and not yet married by the age of 35, I’ll find you and we’ll get married.”

Swept away in the moment and the thrill of the idea, you agreed and sealed the proposal with a harmless kiss.

“You still remember that?” You questioned, not expecting him to actually remember that silly pact. Not expecting him to be holding on to that agreement.

“Sometimes, I wonder where we could be now if I just manned up and asked you out that night instead of pulling that act.” He holds your gaze, careful as he brings a hand to cup your cheek. “I’ve liked you for the longest time. And if you’re still available, if you’ll still have me, I am yours.”

“But we’re not yet 35, Kuroo,” you teased. He chuckled and playfully shoved you before bringing you in an embrace.

“I’ve decided years ago. You’re the only one for me,” he pulls away. “I’m sorry it took me a long time.”

And that night, it wasn’t only your best friend that went home feeling the happiest girl in the world.

Because there was Kuroo who was ready to make up for lost time and give you a reason to look forward to your trips back home.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #kuroo x reader #haikyuucreations #haikyuu fluff #kuroo fluff #kuroo scenarios #kuroo imagines #kuroo tetsuro x you #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu one shot #kuroo tetsuro fluff #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu x you

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raplinesmoon · 2 years

Note

my isi, 3 & 25!

Hi Mai!! Thank you for sending in an ask, you are wonderful mwah <3

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

There’s multiple ties for this one, but I’ll give you some Yoonjin soulmate energy and choose their works! I feel like everything I’m proud of is from my earlier work because the brain rot hit me hard 😅

October: “How both of you were two ships in the night, navigating the same murky waters yet never crossing paths. And now you’d become his anchor, and he was your lighthouse, guiding you to safety and security every hour of the day.” 🥺🥺🥺

Burn After Reading (ch. 4): “We were fools, Seokjin. Fools to think that love could have blossomed, could have thrived in these shades of grey. Love needs light to grow, to develop, it needs happy memories. It doesn’t need secrets, lies, and death.” 😭😭😭

25. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read

Call me a cheater, because I love bending the rules and I feel like spreading the love, but these are fics that I’ve fallen in love with this year and haven’t gotten around to reblogging with a little love more yet, but everyone should absolutely 100% read them! I’m gonna do one for each member:

Seokjin:

Last November by @kithtaehyung: I’m always so in awe of Ryen’s talent, and the Jin in this story just made my heart ache. The whole exes to lovers dynamic set during the turn of the seasons and the way these two just knew each other so well… I was clutching my pillow and tearing up because their love for each other runs so deep. When Seokjin said, “I want to love again”, I felt it deep in my bones.

Yoongi:

Set Me Free by @myooniverse : RK’s writing is so beautiful, it feels like you’re reading poetry or music notes because the words just fly off the page. Her writing is an experience you feel, and this arranged marriage au is one of the best I’ve read. The build-up of the relationship between them and the way these two broken souls find their way to each other and pick up the pieces together… it’s stunning.

Hoseok:

A Silent Heart Still Beats by @akinnie75 : I know this fic has been around forever, but I read it for the first time this year, and I think I’ve re-read multiple times since then. It’s such a difficult read at times because of the heavy subject matter. Seeing how life can change in the blink of an eye, and reading this powerful story about love and forgiveness, had me choking back tears at every word.

Namjoon:

Black Silk by @bangtanfancamp : I told you I was a cheater, right? I reblogged this one, but I can’t recommend it enough, reading it actually changed my life. The way the loving relationship develops between the dark mysterious mafia man Namjoon and his now-wife is so well written and feels realistic. There’s a second part to this too that is full of domestic goodness (and kitchen smut!!)

Jimin:

Syntax Error by @hueseok: I normally live angst, can you tell hehe? However, reading this fwb au was really refreshing! It didn’t have any of those frustrating communication errors. It was just nice to read about two people who started off hooking up, but realized the feelings ran deeper and decided to date without all the angst getting in the way! They were so cute together

Taehyung:

Et Sic Incipit by @lavienjin: I’ve never read something so filthy that’s also so hauntingly beautiful? Moon outdid themselves with this one, it reads like an old gothic novel that you’d open under your covers beneath the candlelight. This Taehyung feels so powerful and ominous, he’s such a formidable character.

Jungkook:

está dañada by @minyfic : the angst!! ripping my heart out and not even bothering to sew up the pieces!! This is so so sad, but written so well. I love the flower metaphors for their relationship and how just when you think things are looking up, Yus surprises you with a twist. Heart wrenching, but it’s realistic, and I love the duality of each character and how well they’re fleshed out.

fanfic end of year asks <3

#asks #ask games #jinpanman

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resident-of-storybrooke · 3 years

Text

Nothing Good Happens After 2AM (Ch 4)

Rating: M (finally earning that for this chapter)

Words: 2900

Read: ao3, ff.net CH 1 CH 2 CH 3

Summary: Emma took Killian home for the holidays as a fake date. Things seemed to be going well…until it didn’t. What happens when two fools in love didn’t confess their love over the holidays like they planned and have to go back home to reality? This. This is what happened…(A twist on fake dating during the holidays)

AN: Well....shit lol here we finally are! I wish I had a good reason for the year and a half delay. Honestly, I got one not so great review and it shook me a bit and I was already iffy about writing. But thank you to so many incredible souls being so encouraging and supporting me to get back into writing. Thank you to @kmomof4 who read all four chapters and edited them (make sure to check them out). I really hope you enjoy this last part as I’m so happy to finally have this out for you all. A very late and final contribution to @csjanuaryjoy

tagging some of the fam squad (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @kymbersmith-90 @let-it-raines @artistic-writer @hollyethecurious @hookedonapirate @carpedzem @nowforruin @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @thesschesthair @teamhook @winterbaby89 @zaharadessert @stahlop @ultraluckycatnd @blowmiakisscolin @peggyswan @jrob64 @klynn-stormz @tiganasummertree @batana54 @pirateprincessofpizza

ALL THE LOVE

Ruby made her way back up to the party, excited to see how the rest of the night would play out after her phone call to Emma. As she made her way back into Killian’s apartment she saw the Nolans as they gestured rather animatedly. Then Ruby rounded the corner and looked in to see who they were yelling at.

Shit.

It was Killian.

And from the looks of it they were letting Killian have it. And he was just standing there taking it.

What the hell did he get into in the last five minutes to warrant this? Ruby was both concerned, but mostly entertained because the sweet sunshine Charmings never yelled. She strolled into the kitchen with a grin, figuring she would enjoy the show. That was until the furious couple saw her - apparently she was their new target.

“Ruby Elizabeth Lucas! You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Ruby was confused to say the least. How the hell was she involved in... whatever this was?

“Um...I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Bullshit, Ruby!” She was completely taken back, Mary Margaret never swore. “You just told me that Emma thought Killian was dating Elsa. And last time I checked Killian and Emma have been together for the last three months. So please, explain yourself. Now.”

“I feel like it’s not really my place,” she said, darting her eyes toward Killian, but she could tell no one was buying it. “Listen, Snow White and Prince Charming, your poor sister felt pressured to bring a date home for the holidays. She and Killian decided to go to Ruth’s and tell y’all they were dating so you’d back the hell off. And it worked and everything was fine. Then Elsa showed up and spooked Emma because she thought she lost her chance with him. Because shocker,” she looked fiercely at Killian and had to restrain herself from smacking him upside the head, “they’re both in love with each other and are being absolutely idotic and not telling the other the truth.” She turned back toward the stunned silent Charmings, “And you two are not helping the cause!”

Killian looked up in complete shock, his eyebrows nearly reaching his hair. The Nolans stood gaping at her, obviously not expecting her brutal honesty.

“Listen,” Ruby took a deep breath. “Cut them some slack. You two were acting like Emma was going to turn into some crazy old spinster if she didn’t find a date soon. Also, you two act as though you are a literal fairytale couple.” She shrugged. “Sometimes it’s hard to live up to your kind of love.”

As David stood in shock, Mary Margaret finally spoke up. “We went too far, didn’t we?” That’s when she turned to Killian. “We’re sorry, Killian. We shouldn’t have ever put you in this situation. We love you, we love Emma, and that wasn’t fair...I hope you can forgive our behavior this evening.”

Just as Killian was about to speak up, the door opened revealing an out of breath Emma Swan.

Emma was confused by the odd looks she was receiving as her welcome. She should be used to their bizarre behavior at this point, but this felt different.

As she made her way over to the group her nerves set back in. She was here to tell Killian the truth. She was going to finally confess her love for her best friend. On his birthday. What could possibly go wrong?

“Right, well, this has been fun. Perhaps we should give these two some alone time.” Ruby elbowed the couple so Emma and Killian could have a moment.

As Emma walked towards Killian she finally took in her surroundings and realized how packed the apartment was. “I wish there were less people here…”

“Why, Swan? I love large parties, they’re so intimate. At small parties-”

“-there isn’t any privacy. I like it when you quote things to me.” Looking at him, she realized how close they were. She wasn’t even aware of her own movement toward him. Then she looked into his blue eyes. She missed them.

She missed him.

They stood there, taking each other in. It’d been weeks since they’d been together, really together. Neither one knew how to start.

“Emma, you came.”

She wished in that moment she had something poetic to respond with, but that wouldn’t be Emma. “That’s what she said.”

The two instantly burst into laughter, the tension dying with every laugh.

“I missed you, Swan.” Killian reached his hand out to tuck a loose strand behind her ear, Emma leaned into his touch.

“I missed you too. I’m so sorry I ran…I wish I had a good excuse, but I don’t. I wanted to tell you so many times how I felt. I was going to tell you. On New Year's Eve. I was finally going to tell you. I had this whole plan. It was a good plan. And then Ruby fucking decided to be Chef Julia Child and give me food posioning. And then...I saw how happy you looked with Elsa and I thought, I thought, I’d lost my chance with you.” Emma finally found the courage to look up when she finished.

Killian’s eyes were full of unshed tears. When Emma opened her mouth to try and say something to break the tension Killian wrapped his arms around her. Emma finally took a breath. A breath she had been holding for weeks. He didn’t hate her.

“Emma, my love, I promise nothing happened with Elsa. She was Liam’s fiance. She’s an old friend and nothing more. You though...you’re so much more than that. I’ve been a coward. I’ve hidden behind our friendship, behind the lie we told your family, and I will not do that any longer. I’ve had three words on the tip of my tongue since the night we met, I swear, and I will not waste another minute without you hearing them.”

Emma extracted herself from his grasp. “Before you do, I have something for you.”

Killian lets out a sigh, “Really? Right now?”

Without another word Emma pulled the small red box from her clutch and handed it to Killian. He looked at her with curious eyes. “It’s your birthday, open the damn thing, Jones.”

“So demanding. Now what do we have here? It's a-”

He stopped.

Mistletoe.

It was the most infuriating object that haunted his dreams - well, besides Emma. That trip to her home, the infernal garnish was everywhere.

There was that kiss.

God, that kiss. He relieved it daily, prayed that it wasn’t the last kiss he’d ever share with Emma. Up until this moment he was convinced that would be the case.

“Well, Swan, this is quite the gift. I don’t know exactly what to say.” He scratched behind his ear, a nervous tick they were both well aware of.

“I, um, do you wanna see if it works?” Killian’s eyes shot up to Emma.

“Well, love, seems only right I try it out with you since you were the one that gave me such a generous gift. Shall we...”

Emma cut him off with a bruising kiss, it caught him a little off guard, but it only took a moment for him to catch up. Killian didn’t give a damn that there was a party going on around them. He finally had Emma in his arms. Emma’s hands wandered to the nape of his neck, holding on for dear life. Killian’s hands roamed down her sides before anchoring on her hips, holding her tightly against him. He cursed the fact that Emma was wearing a dress, even if she did look bloody gorgeous in the tight red piece. He couldn’t wait to have that blasted thing on his floor.

They finally broke for air, still clinging to one another, foreheads touching. Killian was ready to dive back in when he looked up and remembered they weren’t alone. Mary Margaret was crying, Ruby was cheering, and David looked slightly annoyed but Killian saw the small smile he was trying but failing to hide.

“Come on, love. I think it’s time we faced the vultures. And I’d like you to meet Elsa, if that’s alright with you?”

“Yeah, I think that’s a pretty good idea, Captain.” Emma reached down and grabbed Killian’s hand before they walked over.

Maybe the trope board wasn't wrong after all.

CSCSCSCSCSCSCSCS

As the party went on, Killian and Emma were inseparable; the two constantly touching the other. At one point, while talking to Mary Margaret and David, Emma laid her head on Killian's shoulder, something she'd done a million times, but this time Killian placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

The two were in their own happy bubble. They pretended to be engaged with those around them, but they couldn't ignore but feel the sparks ignited with each touch.

"So, Emma? It's nice to finally meet you. I'm sorry for the miscommunication. I feel as though that was my fault." Emma was confused on how Elsa seemed to be privy to their issue, but then she saw Mary Margaret across the room and assumed her friend had filled her in.

"Please, don't be. I was...scared I lost my chance with Killian."

"Oh, honey. I don't think you could ever lose this one." Killian squeezed Emma closer to prove her point.

Turns out Elsa was hilarious and had wonderfully embarrassing stories about Killian. Emma had a feeling the two were going to be good friends after tonight.

The party eventually wound down a little after one, slowly the various couples left. That's when Emma realized she was alone with Killian.

Finally.

Suddenly, Emma felt her nerves grow. They'd declared their love and haven't left the others' side since, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't nervous. She absentmindedly threw out some empty cups as she tried to plan her next move.

"Love," Killian called for her from the living room, "can you come here?" Emma slowly made her way into the room as Killian stretched out his arms to embrace her.

"Emma, I...I know that tonight has been a lot. Our relationship has always been a lot. And I know the future is uncertain, but there's one thing I want you to be certain of - I will always be by your side. For as long as you'll let me, my love."

She didn't even know a tear had slipped until Killian pulled back to wipe it.

"I haven't always made things easy. I get spooked easily, but I'm tired of running. I want to be with you, Killian. I love you."

"And I you, my beautiful Swan."

The kiss started off slowly, different than the one earlier, but no less passionate. Emma brought her hands around Killian's neck, playing with the nape of his hair. As Killian kissed down her neck, Emma didn't recognize the noises that escaped her mouth.

As their kisses continued, Emma was surprised when Killian's legs hit the couch and he fell down. She hadn’t been aware that they moved. Emma said she was tired of running, and she was ready to show him. So she straddled his legs and hovered over him for just a moment.

They felt like teenagers again, making out on a couch like this. She could feel him harden beneath her, driving her wild. But, it wasn't enough, she needed more. Emma started unbuttoning his shirt, the bastard already had the top three undone. Without a second thought, she began to rake her fingers through the coarse black hair.

"I've been dying to do this since we first met. So soft," she murmured. Killian found a spot behind her ear that made her mewl. Emma brought her lips to his ear, "I've always wondered how it'd feel against my breasts."

With that, Killian pulled back. "My love, are you sure? We can wait. Because once I have you, I'm never going to let you go." Emma nodded slowly. As she looked into his eyes, she could barely see a trace of blue. His pupils were blown.

Before Emma could stand, Killian wrapped his arms around her to carry her to his bedroom. He only ran into the wall twice as Emma was no doubt leaving marks on his neck. Killian gently placed her in the middle of the bed.

"I always swore that if we got here, I would worship every inch of you."

"Killian, please, worship later. I need you now."

"Just a taste. Patience, darling." Killian was beyond thankful at that moment Emma had opted for a dress as he quickly removed her thong.

Before she could speak, he brought his mouth to her sex. "You're already drenched for me. You..fuck...you taste delicious."

Emma couldn't speak, he was overwhelming in every sense of the word. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, not that she needed to guide him; he knew exactly what he was doing.

Killian replaced his mouth with two fingers. "That's it, Emma. You look so beautiful like this. I want you to come for me, darling. Come and then I'll give you what you really want."

His voice was deeper, accent thicker. Emma had a feeling she could finish from his voice alone, but right now, it was his fingers and mouth that were going to do the trick.

Emma lost all control of her limbs as he sent her over the edge. He didn't let up though, he continued slowly licking as she came back down. As her breathing returned to normal, Killian kissed up her body.

"Worship later, Killian,” she moaned again. “Please. I need you. Now."

"So demanding, Swan,” he observed, taking his pants and boxer briefs off. “I think I like this side of you, all in a commanding voice, chills really."

He climbed back on top of her, but instead of responding, Emma hooked her legs around Killian and flipped him, so he laid on his back. He looked up in awe, he had never been so turned on than in this moment.

Emma decided she was tired of waiting, but before she could sink down Killian stopped her. "Give me a moment, let me grab something, I -"

"I'm clean, and I'm on the pill. I...I don't want anything between us."

"Gods, Emma. If you're sure? I'm good too, I haven't been with anyone since...since we met."

Emma dove down to meet his lips as she sank down onto him. Killian swallowed her gasp as she adjusted to his size. Of course, he lived up to every innuendo, and Emma couldn't be happier for that than in this moment.

For first times, they were both surprised with how easy it was to fall into rhythm with the other. There were only a few slightly awkward moments, but that didn't stop them from enjoying this moment. Emma's hips met Killian's with each thrust, quickly driving the other wild.

"So fucking glorious, Emma. You're so tight like this. Ride my cock, such a good girl. I want to feel you come around me this time. You're stunning when you come. That's...fuck... that's it Emma, take what you need, darling."

Before Emma could even respond, Killian decided it was her turn to be flipped on her back. "Now, if I remember correctly, you wanted to know how it feels with me on top."

"That's, ugh, that's not exactly what I said. But I'm not complaining."

Emma felt that familiar sensation growing in her stomach as Killian's pace intensified. "Killian, I'm close. Together, I wanna -"

"Aye, love, together."

Killian felt her tighten around him as she moaned out in ecstasy, pulling him right after her. He gave her a searing kiss as he spilled himself inside of her. Killian fell on top of her, too exhausted to worry about crushing her for a moment.

"Killian? As much as I love how, uh, close we are now, do you think you can move? I can't breathe, and I need to clean up."

"Oi, you're gonna give a man a complex!" Killian slowly rolled off her, in awe of the glow Emma radiated at the moment. Emma couldn't help but giggle as he was being an annoying ass, but mostly he was still...Killian.

They were still them. Except they just had mind-blowing sex.

She could get used to this new addition to their relationship.

"Stay here, love. Let me." Killian was back in a moment and helped clean Emma. When he finished, he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, just like before.

"What is it, Swan?"

"Nothing, I'm just happy. It's just so surprising."

"Aye, love, me too. But this doesn't change anything. I've loved you for years now, and we'll go at whatever pace we both see fit, but I'm in this for the long haul."

"As am I, Captain."

The two laid in bed, cuddled close, and shared lazy kisses. When Emma looked at the clock, she saw it was nearly three in the morning. A few weeks ago, Emma had thought nothing good happened after two am; it turns out she was wrong.

"Swan? Can you tell me what the bloody hell a trope board is?"

#tori finally finishes a story #nothing good happens after 2am #(formerly) another name #so close and still so far #captain swan #emma swan #killian jones #ouat #once upon a time #cs fanfics #ruby lucas #david nolan #mary margaret blanchard #elsa #part four #IT'S FINALLY DONE #THANK YOU K

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Riding High

Ch23: Full Circle

Chapter Summary: Mary takes a trip to Boston, but it doesn’t go exactly according to plan and both Frank and Fliss find themselves making a return to the place they both ran from.

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Nothing major in this, except please bear with me…I’m a Brit so don’t have a wonderful knowledge of the US Health service… thanks to those of you who helped me with this one, you know who you are… ;-)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 22

In the eye of the storm, you remain in control, and in the middle of the war, you guard my soul, you alone are the anchor, when my sails are torn, your love surrounds me in the eye of the storm.

"You got everything?" Frank looked at Mary as she shrugged her pink backpack over her shoulder and nodded at him, grinning. "All set..." "Have a good time sweetie!" Fliss grinned as she bent to give her a hug. "I'll make sure Monty is ok, and Fred gets his ping pong ball." Mary wrapped her arms around Fliss, squeezing her before she turned to Frank and did the same. "Call or message me when you land." Frank straightened up as Mary turned to climb in the car as Evelyn held the door open. It was in instruction, not a request and that didn’t pass Evelyn by. She looked at him, smiled and nodded. "Of course. Our flight is due into Boston at 10pm so I'll let you know straight away." Frank nodded and Fliss slipped an arm around his waist as Evelyn settled into the car, the door closing behind them. "She'll be fine..." Fliss gave his hip a gentle squeeze as they both waved the car off, Thor playfully bounding after it for 2 or 3 strides, barking. "It’s only 2 nights sailor...she'll be back Sunday evening" "I know..." he sighed, turning to face her. "And I know it’s different to the last time she went..."

“But that won’t stop you worrying, I get it.” Fliss said, as she gently slid her arms round his neck.

“Stupid, huh?” Frank sighed, his hands falling to her hips.

“No, not at all. You’re behaving like any dad would…” “I’m not her dad.” Frank shook his head.

“And Bill isn’t mine, biologically.” Fliss looked at him, her head tilting to one side. “I’ve told you before, don’t sell yourself short.”

Frank took a deep breath and looked down at Fliss, her large brown eyes studying his.

“What you wanna do tonight?” He asked, changing the subject. It always made him feel slightly uncomfortable being referred to as Mary’s Father, it was almost like he was betraying Diane’s memory in a way. It was stupid, illogical, he knew, as he was her father, in every way but biologically…but still.

"How about you take me for a ride in the new truck?" Fliss smiled. “I’ve not sat in it yet!” Frank looked over her shoulder for a moment at the sleek, shiny new silver Mitsubishi Triton he’d taken delivery of that morning. He smiled a little, before he looked at Fliss, his hands flexing on her waist as he had an idea. "Why don't we see what's on at the Drive In up at Tampa? Good trip to give it a test and we can take the blankets and cool box up, sit on the back?" "Ooooh, sounds great!" Fliss grinned "grab some munchies too!" Frank nodded, giving her a peck on the lips before they headed back up to the apartment. The evening film turned out to be Bohemian Rhapsody which Fliss was eager to see and after checking the time they packed up the truck with what they needed before hitting the road. Fliss was taken with the modern interior of the new vehicle, fiddling about with the dials and the screen on the centre console, tuning the radio in and programming the rest of the stuff which Frank couldn't give a crap out. The only thing useful on there in his opinion was the built in GPS. "Did Greg call you today?" Frank asked Fliss as she sat in the seat beside him. She turned to face him, frowning. "I thought I told you?" Frank school his head, glancing at her. "Oh God, Frank, I’m sorry!" She slapped her palm to her forehead and groaned, shaking her head. Frank chuckled and reached out to squeeze her knee. "Honey, its okay" he assured her, giving her a smile which she returned. He knew why she had been quick to apologise. As part of their moving forward since their little 'blip' as Frank referred to it a few weeks back, Fliss had agreed one hundred percent disclosure on anything and everything to do with her ass hat ex and she didn't want him thinking she was holding out. Another part of the deal was they went to the police. After seeing the evidence and taking statements they had questioned John, who of course had denied it. Given that the evidence was circumstantial the prosecution had told Fliss that they wouldn't be pursuing it further however, upon learning this Greg, had taken matters into his own hands and was pushing for further action. Given that the weight of probability with John's history, swayed towards him being responsible Greg was actively yet unofficially harassing the Assistant District Attorney in Suffolk County (who he knew from Law School) to at least consider holding a Grand Jury Hearing. "He hasn't heard back from his pal at the DAs office yet." Fliss shrugged, her eyes moving back to the road "Mind you, John's been quiet though for the last month now since the photo. Part of me wonders if pushing for this is just gonna kick the Hornets nest so to speak." "Maybe." Frank mused. "But Greg seems confident if we can get him up in front of a Grand Jury, they'd without a doubt decide there was a case to answer." "He just wants to second chair the Prosecution" Fliss grinned and Frank snorted. "Yeah he has taken it kinda personally." Frank nodded, before he sighed and reached out for her left hand which was now nervously twisting the fingers of her right. He pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles before he linked his fingers with his and dropped his hand to the arm rest between them. He didn't mention it again. Instead they concentrated on enjoying themselves and once at the Drive In, Frank reversed the truck so the flat bed was facing the lager screen. They sat in the back, cool box of beer and snacks at their disposal, huddled together and enjoyed their film, sharing the odd lingering, deep kiss that left the pair of them smiling and grinning like a couple of teenagers on the back row. Once the film was finished they headed home via one of the All Night Diners on the for a shake and some pie, at which point Frank received a photo message from Evelyn that showed Mary asleep in the back of her car, accompanied by the words "Safe and Sound" and a promise that Mary would call in the morning. He passed the phone to Fliss who grinned at the image. "See, nothing to worry about." She said gently, passing him the phone back. "I'm not worried..." he began to protest but Fliss simply arched an eyebrow and he let out a soft sigh. "Okay, maybe a little..." "It’s gonna be fine. She's going to come back full of tales about what a great time she had and that's the most important thing here Frank. You said you wanted her to be happy. Clearly, having Evelyn in her life is what she wants." "I know, I know...you're right." He nodded, before his attention flicked to the waitress who was bringing them their food. Once finished they made their way back home and decided to take Thor for a quick walk down to the Marina. It was dark, and getting a little bit chilly (well, as chilly as it ever got in South Pas) but it was nice none the less, just taking the time to themselves in the moonlight. As they walked and talked, Frank felt the veil of anxiety he had been feeling about Mary’s trip lift slightly and he started to relax properly. It was hard not to, he loved spending time with Fliss like this, just doing simple things alone and it didn’t escape him how if you had asked him eighteen months ago if he would be spending his Friday Nights walking down the Marina with his girlfriend of a year he would have laughed.

At that he stopped.

A year.

Fuck.

“Lissy…” he pulled her back to him. “It’s our anniversary tomorrow.”

“I know.” she smiled “I take it you just remembered?”

“No…” he started to protest, and then gave a laugh as she arched an eyebrow at him, calling him out.

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Maybe I did just remember but that’s only because every day with you feels as special as our first date.” “Oh fuck you Adler!” she snorted and he laughed, tilting his head back, his right hand flying to his chest. “That’s is such a shit line.” “Okay, okay, sorry!” he chuckled, tilting his head to look at her. “I’ve never been in this position before so cut me some slack huh!”

“Well, I’m not expecting a card or flowers or any crap like that.” she smiled “It’s not like it’s a wedding anniversary, which, for the record, when we get married, you forget one of those I would smother you to death in your sleep…” “When…” Frank looked at her, a soft smile on his face.

“I mean if.” She flushed, biting her lip.

“Nope, you said when…”

“Piss off.”

“So you don’t wanna marry me?”

“I didn’t say that?”

“So you do then…” “Frank, seriously, shut up!” She laughed, hitting him on his chest. With a chuckle, he dropped his arm round her shoulder. They continued their walk, looping around the marina to start the head home, when after a few moment she spoke again.

“But, hypothetically speaking, if I was to ask…” Fliss took a deep breath as they continued to walk, before she stopped and looked up at him. “Hypothetically?” “Of course…” She smiled, and looked down slightly, before she grinned up at him “Then it would totally depend on what ring you got me.”

“Materialistic…” Frank nodded, “Noted.” She shoved him again and he looked at her, “What?” he asked through his chuckle.

“I wonder why I love you at times.” “No you don’t.” He said gently and it was her turn to laugh as she shook her head.

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t”

“You’ve still not answered my question…” He said, looking at her.

“Ask it properly and maybe I will.” she sassed back.

Frank felt his face split into a grin because that was all the damned answer he needed. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips before he pulled her close and they headed home, Thor running in front of them barking at the lights that were reflecting on the dark water.

******

Frank blinked. It took him a while to realise what had woken him, but his phone was ringing. Reaching for it with a yawn he looked at it, and as soon as the caller ID registered he sat bolt upright and answered. "Mother?" He frowned, his voice thick from sleep "What's happened?" "Don't panic..." she spoke immediately, and he felt his chest contract straight away in worry as she continued "but we're on the way to hospital..." "Why, what's going on?" He asked, as Fliss stirred next to him as he began to push the covers down, before swinging his legs so he was sat on the edge if his bed. "Mary started complaining of pains in her stomach just before bed. She seemed to settle after some pain relief but woke about half an hour ago screaming. So I decided call an ambulance." Evelyn's voice was calm but Frank could sense the underlying current of anxiety "they're here now and they want to take her in, they think its appendicitis..." There was a pause as someone said something to her on the other side and then Frank could hear Mary's soft crying and he felt a lump in his throat. "Ok, where are they taking her?" He asked "Cambridge?" "Yes." Evelyn spoke "Frank, I need to go but I'll call you as soon as I have news." "Ok." Frank nodded, standing up "I'll be there as soon as I can" Evelyn didn't argue, she simply promised once more to call as soon as there was an update and he hit cancel. "Frank?" Fliss asked softly, clicking on the lamp as he turned to face her. "What...."

"It's Mary." Frank looked at Fliss as he moved the wardrobe and pulled out a bag "She's been taken ill, they're err...taking her to hospital. I need to go..."

"Hospital?" Fliss threw the covers off the bed "What for?" "Suspected appendicitis..." Frank said, as he tossed the kit bag onto the bed "I don't know much more but..."

He took a deep breath as Fliss reached out for him, and he fell into her arms as she gently gave him a hug. He pulled away and ran a hand over his face.

"Ok, first thing's first." Fliss spoke. "We need flights..."

"Flights?" "Yeah, you can't drive there Frank." Fliss looked at him, "It will take you a day." "Yeah, yeah." he nodded, realising that his plan to simply jump in his truck and floor it was a ridiculous one, before he frowned. “Hang on, we?"

"Yes, we. You're not going on your own." "I don't want you back in Boston." Frank shook his head. "Not whilst..."

"Frank, I'm not having this argument with you." Fliss said sternly "Fuck John. This is Mary. I'm coming, end of discussion." Frank looked at her for a moment, her face was stern leaving him absolutely no doubt she was being serious. If he was 100% honest with himself, he didn't want to go without her either, so with a deep breath he nodded.

"I’ll sort the flights and then I'll call my mum and dad, they can come get Thor and Fred. Where's your ID?" "Kitchen drawer." he said, as he began pulling a few items of clothing and stuffing them in the bag. She nodded and headed out of the room, the lights in the hallway flicking on as she went. He shoved what he had pulled from his drawers into his bag. He hated this, he'd always been there when Mary was sick, and the fact he was a damned 3 hour flight away was killing him.

"Dad's on his way over, and the first flight I could get us on is at six-fifteen which gets us in at nine-twenty.” Fliss said, coming back, her phone in her hand "So that gives us just under three hours." she said.

Frank nodded and that was the confirmation she needed, and she tapped a button nodding. "That's done. So you're gonna need your paperwork, insurance etc..." "Yeah, that's..." he frowned, "erm..." "Filed with everything else." she looked at him, "It's in the drawer in the bureau."

"Right." "And we should probably take some more stuff for Mary." Fliss looked at him, "She's gonna be there a little longer than anticipated so she'll need more clothes, pyjamas...maybe a few books...want me to sort it?" "Please." he smiled softly at her, thankful that she seemed to have taken control.

She nodded and headed into Mary's room and began to pull a selection of things for her together, returning with them moments later. They spent the next 15 minutes gathering what they needed before they both dressed, and then there was a soft knock on the door. Frank made his way to answer when his phone rang again.

"I'll get the door honey." Fliss spoke softly as he answered the call.

"Mr Adler?" "Speaking." "This is Ava Fields calling from Cambridge Hospital...I just need to collect some details from you regarding Mary...I believe you're the Minor's official guardian?"

Frank took a deep breath and confirmed the status with the woman, and then headed into the living room, nodding slightly to Bill as he went to the file which Fliss had placed on the dining room table. Flicking through he found his policy details, number and proceeded to recite the information over the phone.

"Listen..." he spoke to the woman once he had finished "I'm in Florida at the moment, but I'll be flying up as soon as I can...in the meantime, could it be possible to delegate responsibility when I'm not reachable to Evelyn Adler, she's Mary's grandmother, my mother...she came in with her. I don't want anything to be held up whilst I'm in the air..." "No, of course Mr Adler." The woman spoke kindly, "I'll make a note that you're happy for Mrs Adler to be the point of contact until you arrive...now have a safe trip and try not to worry." Yeah, right.

With a thanks he cut the call and immediately dialled his mother.

"Any news?" he demanded.

"The doctor has just arrived." Evelyn spoke quietly "He's doing a quick physical then I suspect she'll be taken up for some tests or..." "Ok, well our flight leaves at 6:15." he said, walking back into the bedroom "Arrives in Mass at 9:20."

"I'll send a car for you." Evelyn said.

"Thanks." Frank said "Oh, and I've told the hospital that if they can't reach me to defer to you. I hope that's ok." "Of course it's ok Frank." Evelyn replied softly "She is my granddaughter." "Just call me the minute there's any news." he said, ignoring her sudden softness. "Sure." Evelyn said "And keep me posted as to where you are." With a goodbye Frank slid the phone into his pocket and unplugged the charger before he threw that into the bag along with his documents before he zipped it up and lifted it, along with the smaller one which contained Mary's stuff and headed into the hall.

"Hey Bill..." he said with a sigh, dropping the bags to the floor "Sorry, I wasn't being rude..." "Stop." Bill shook his head, cutting Frank’s apology off "How is she?" "Still being examined. I should know more shortly." he took a deep breath, looking at Fliss "Mother's sending a car for us once we land."

"Ok." Fliss said "I couldn't get two seats together but we're a row behind one another..." Frank nodded, it wasn't important. What was important was that they simply got there.

"Deep breath..." Fliss said softly, her hands resting on his arms "Have we packed everything?"

He nodded, running over the list in his head and Bill reached for one of the bags. "Ok, let's get going..."

"Dad's gonna drop us at the airport." Fliss said, "Save us having to sort out Car parking..." "Thanks." Frank looked at Bill, who waved his gratitude away.

"No problems...all set?" "Jacket." Fliss looked at Frank and he cursed, heading back into the bedroom. Grabbing the warmest one he owned, which was a dark grey Super-Dry zip up he carried it back into the hall and the three of them headed down to Bill's Range Rover.

15 minutes into the trip he had another call from Evelyn to say Mary was being taken up for scans as soon as possible.

"The initial examination seems to confirm it's appendicitis..." she said "They've given her a sedative for the pain and once the scans are done, if its confirmed they're going to need to operate. The good news is it doesn't appear to have ruptured so it can be done via a laparoscopy..." "Yeah, that's wonderful..." Frank said sarcastically before he sighed "Sorry, I'm just worried..." "I know." Evelyn said "But she's in the best place Frank." "Yeah..." he sighed, looking out of the window. "Thanks...keep in touch." He explained to Fliss and Bill who were both looking at him questioningly before they fell silent again, no one speaking for the rest of the journey, which took them just over 35 minutes in total. After giving Bill quick instructions for Thor and Fred, and the man promising to call Alan and Joanne for them, as it was unlikely they would be back on Monday, they both gave him a hug and Bill gently slapped Frank's back slightly, in as Fatherly a manner as he could have done.

Check in and security took them about 40 minutes to clear, meaning by the time the hit the lounge they had roughly an hour before they could start boarding. Fliss suggested they grabbed a coffee and Frank agreed, even though he didn't particularly want one, he knew it was a way of passing the time. He was also getting antsy as there hadn't been any more news from his mother or the hospital. Fliss directed him to sit on the tan, leather sofas in the Coffee Bar area of the lounge and headed to the counter to place their order. Whilst she waited she turned to glance at Frank, to see he had crossed one long leg over the other and was rubbing at his forehead with his hand. She knew he was worried, hell, they both were, but Frank was normally the level-headed one out of the pair of them, more often than not being the one bringing Fliss down from a rage when Mary came home and told about something a kid at school had said to her, even when Mary didn’t actually give a shit herself. But now the tables had turned and Fliss knew she had to be the calm one despite the fact she herself felt anything but.

Taking the coffees with a smile she turned and headed over to where he was sat, placing the mugs on the small table in front of them and then dropping gently into the seat besides him.

“Thanks.” he murmured, before he pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked it again.

"She’ll be ok Frank." Fliss said gently, her hand dropping to his knee.

"She's gonna be so scared Fliss" Frank sighed, his hand sliding into hers "A strange place, in pain, and ...I'm not there..." "No, but you will be as soon as we can." Fliss soothed.

"What if they operate, and then she wakes up and..."Frank's voice croaked "I promised I'd look after her and..."

"Hey..." Fliss said softly, her fingers tightening around his "You do look after her. No one could have predicted she would fall ill, that isn't something you can control, ok? I know it’s easier said than done but try and concentrate, keep a clear head. So when you do get news you can digest it rationally ok?"

"I know going back can't be easy for you." he looked at her, "But I'm glad you're here...I don't know what I'd have done without you before..."

"Probably jumped in your truck in nothing but your boxers." She said and he gave a soft chuckle.

"Probably" he agreed.

They made small talk for the rest of the time before their flight called and they headed to the gate. He called Evelyn to inform her they were boarding and she told him that they were still waiting for a doctor to come by with the scans results. That frustrated him, as it had been almost 2 hours since they had said they were referring her for one but there was nothing he could do about it.

They found their seats, Frank shoving their bags into any space in the overhead locker he could find and thankfully, the man next to Frank was happy to swap seats when Fliss explained the situation to him, meaning they could sit together. Whilst Frank had earlier stated it wasn't important he was glad he was by his side. He could take her hand, feel her presence which itself was calming.

The flight itself felt like the longest 3 hours of Frank's life. He tried to concentrate on a film, but that didn't work. Nor did the paper from the flight attendant, or trying to talk to Fliss. After 40 minutes he just settled into a contemplative silence, his mind working overtime, simply taking Fliss' hand in his as he willed away the minutes. Eventually, their descent into Logan was announced and after Fliss spoke to the flight attendant again, they were allowed to exit the aircraft first. Frank was back on his phone as soon as they walked off, and Evelyn answered immediately saying Mary had been taken down to surgery approximately 50 minutes ago. She assured Frank that Mary had been ok, knew he was on his way, and Evelyn had been with her whilst she fell asleep, which was something at least.

As they were travelling with their bags in the cabin, once they cleared security they didn’t have to wait for luggage reclaiming, and they strode quickly into the arrivals lounge where they were met by their driver who Frank greeted with a nod. They followed him outside to the sleek grey Mercedes and both climbed into the rear once Frank had tossed their bags into the trunk. Fliss gently placed her hand on Frank's knee as his leg was shaking and he shot her a small smile as he looked out of the window at the sights of the city he had left behind almost 8 years ago.

Nothing had changed, nothing of notice anyway. A few new housing developments here and there but as they made their way through to Cambridge it appeared to be the same leafy suburb he had once called home. Although he knew Fliss had lived in Concorde, this had to be jolting memories for her and it seemed he was right as he glanced sideways at her and noticed a look of contemplation on her face.

"You ok?" he asked, and she smiled, nodding.

“Was just thinking about how beautiful it all looks this time of year." He smiled softly and they fell into silence again, and less than 20 minutes after leaving the airport they pulled up outside the hospital. The driver hopped out and opened the trunk so they could grab their bags before they thanked the man and headed inside straight to reception. The woman greeted him, gave him the relevant floor and Ward name along with a room number, informing him Mary had her own private area which he was glad about.

"Come on..." Frank urged the elevator as it ascended to the floor they needed, tapping his foot on the floor. After what felt like hours, the doors opened and he strode out, his hand round Fliss' as they checked the signs on the wall.

"This way." Fliss tugged on his arm. She gently led him to the right and they checked the numbers on the doors before they reached Mary's. Without knocking Frank opened the door and Evelyn's head snapped up.

"Where's Mary?" Frank demanded as he spotted the bed was missing from the room. "Not back from theatre." Evelyn said, standing up and Fliss smiled at her, taking in her appearance. She was as casually dressed as Fliss had ever seen her, in a pair of jeans and a sweater, her hair pulled back into a pony tail and she noted how soft and almost maternal it actually made her look in contrast to her usual School Mistress appearance. "It shouldn't be long now...as soon as she's out they'll be taking her to the post anaesthetic care unit and come down to get us."

Frank dropped the bag he was carrying to the floor and walked to the window, taking a glance out, chewing the inside of his lip. Fliss watched him for a moment before she turned to Evelyn as she spoke.

"Good flight?" the woman asked, clearly trying to make conversation.

"Yeah." Fliss nodded "Felt like it took an age but..."

At that moment there was a knock on the door before it opened and they all turned to see a doctor step into the room.

"How is she?" Frank asked immediately.

"Mr Adler I presume?" The light haired man smiled at him. "I'm Dr Jeffords. Mary is fine, the operation went without hitch. If you come with me I'll take you up to PACU...but I'm afraid only 2 of you can come..." Frank took a deep breath and immediately looked to Fliss, who turned to Evelyn. "Evelyn, you can..." "No." she shook her head, "You go..."

"You can take turns if you wish." The doctor said gently "She shouldn't be in there for too long, once she's come round and her vitals are stable she'll be brought back down so..." Evelyn nodded and Fliss turned to Frank as he took her hand. With a final nod to his mother they followed the Doctor to the elevator.

"Just to prepare you, she does have an IV line in and could be a little groggy at first..." The doctor spoke as they followed him down a corridor. "That's all perfectly normal..."

Frank nodded as the Doctor opened a door to their right and Frank saw Mary for the first time in the middle of the bed at the far side. She looked so small and there was a nurse stood by her, checking something on a screen.

"Oh, Jesus.” Frank's voice caught in his throat and Fliss gently rubbed at his back.

"It looks worse than it is." Doctor Jeffords assured him "Like I said, there were no complications we just need to monitor her for a while until she comes round fully. Now if you need anything or have any worries, please just grab one of the nurses, and I'll be back in about half an hour to check on her. By the she should be with it enough to take back to her room."

Fliss thanked the Doctor as Frank walked over to Mary's bed, bending down gently to kiss the top of her head, his hand brushing her hair back off her face. She gently placed her hand between Frank's shoulder blades as the two of them stood looking down at Mary, Fliss' hand rubbing soft circles over Frank's grey t-shirt as he took a deep breath. "She looks so small." Frank said softly "I never considered how little she was really" "She's not." Fliss chuckled. "She is to you because you're big." "Big?" Frank looked at her and she shrugged, smiling. "Yeah you're tall...broad shouldered..." she mused, her eyes flicking back to Mary, her hand falling from his shoulders to the base of his back. "I'm just over six-foot, it's not that tall." Frank's lips curled into a smile "Your Steve is taller than me, your dad is the same size..." "Steve is an animal." Fliss said, shaking her head "he was your height at the age of 16. Ridiculous." At that Mary made a little noise, and her face creased up, eyes closed. "Hey." Frank smiled softly, his hand reaching out again, gently brushing her cheek. "Hey Stack."

Mary made a noise, and then her face screwed up and she began to try and sit up.

“Shhhh.” Frank moved further up the bed, gently bending over so his hands fell either side of her. “Just…stay calm, its okay…”

But even as he spoke she became even more visibly distressed, and no matter what he said she didn’t respond. He looked up at Fliss, helplessly, his eyes filling with tears and Fliss took a deep breath, swallowing as she called over for a nurse.

“I know this looks horrible,” the Nurse said softly as she strode over, “but she’s experiencing something we call Emergence Delirium, very common in children.” “What, what do I do?” Frank asked, shaking his head, his eyes still fixed on Mary as she yelled out, her arms flailing “I can’t…”

“There’s nothing you can do really other than gently talk to her, stay calm, be reassuring…” the Nurse said gently. “I promise you, she won't remember any of this when she comes round fully Mr Adler, it’s worse for you than her…”

Frank gently placed his hand on Mary’s forehead and at his touch she seemed to relax a little, so encouraged slightly he began to hum the melody to God Only Knows by the Beach Boys, something he had always sung to her as a small child, a song she’d grown up with and they now sang along to in the car on occasions. Fliss moved to his side, her arm curling round his waist as she simply stood with him, lending him comfort and eventually, Mary blinked, her eyes opening and when they focussed on Frank she gave him a small smile.

Frank let out the breath he had been holding and wiped his eyes hastily before she realised he’d been crying.

"Hey Stack." he said gently, looking at her, his hand softly stroking her cheek. "Welcome back."

She blinked again, and then looked to Fliss, her face cracking into an even bigger smile and Fliss reached down and gently placed a kiss on her head.

“Hey baby.” Fliss smiled.

“Evelyn…” Mary coughed slightly, her voice croaky and she looked at Frank “She said you were on your way…” “I got on a plane as soon as I could.” he said, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here earlier.” “Where is she?”

“She’s in your room.” Frank said “Only 2 of us were allowed in here at once.” “Do you want me to go get her?” Fliss said.

“But then you would have to go.” Mary frowned.

“Yeah, but if you want Evelyn that’s fine…” “No.” Mary shook her head and Frank gently curled his hand around Fliss’. Mary closed her eyes again before she opened them and looked at Frank “Where’s Fred.” Frank let out a snort “I couldn’t bring a cat in here with me, Stack. Bill and Verity have him.” “And his ping pong balls?” “And his ping pong balls.” Fliss assured her.

“Oh, ok.” Mary looked at them both “That’s fine. Hey, did you bring me any snacks?”

Frank looked at Fliss, the pair of them sharing a grin before Frank shook his head “No, but when the doctor says it’s ok I’ll go get you whatever you want.” “Good, Evelyn wouldn’t let me have any chips last night.” she said, wrinkling her face “I know I’ve said this before but she really is bossy…” *******

When the Doctor returned he began his examination to make sure Mary was ok to move back to her room, and Fliss had to snort at the way Mary started demanding an in depth report on what exactly the Operation had done. Doctor Jeffords looked at Frank, who merely rolled his eyes with a smirk and gestured for him to answer so, with an amused expression he did just that. Mary quizzed him for a good 15 minutes until Frank stepped in and told her that the poor man had other people to go and see, not just her.

Little over 20 minutes after the Doctor was left they were back in Mary’s room, and she seemed fairly bright. Frank had been momentarily dumbfounded when he had seen his mother reach over to hug Mary, tears in her eyes when she had returned to her room. But Mary didn’t act like it was a big issue, so he could only assume that his mother must have hugged her before, and it struck him as being a little sad how surprised he was by this realisation.

The three of them sat with her, the TV on the wall playing something in the background. Frank made sure her laptop was charged so she had something to do as well in case she decided she was getting bored. They Face-timed Bill and Verity who were both over the moon to see Mary ok, and they talked to them for a good forty minutes, Mary demanding to see Fred and Thor as well, Bill making good natured grumblings about how he was offended she didn’t really want to see him. All in all, the day passed fairly quickly all in all, and at about 4pm the Nurse popped in to ask if Mary wanted something to eat. She nodded eagerly and when they returned with a list of what she could have, Frank sat next to her and they began to decide. Fliss smiled softly at the sight of him, sat up on the bed, arm looped round the headboard as they both pulled a face at something on the menu, shaking their heads.

“String beans by any chance?” Evelyn asked, clocking the exchange and Frank looked up at her.

“How did you guess?”

“You always hated them as a child and do does she….” Evelyn said, a little distractedly as her phone began to ring. She glanced at the number and then looked at Frank “Sorry, do you…” “No, go for it.” He said, nodding. She answered the call as she left the room, Fliss watching her go before she turned to Frank as Mary looked at him.

“Are you staying here with me tonight?” “Course I am.” he assured her “I’m not leaving until you can come home.” “And that’s tomorrow?” “If they’re happy you’re ok, yeah, tomorrow. Although you won’t’ be able to fly back to Florida for a while.” “Does that mean we’re gonna be at Evelyn’s for Thanksgiving?” Frank paused for a moment, he hadn’t even thought about that, or in fact where they were going to stay whilst Mary recovered. His mother’s was the logical option, despite how he had no desire to step foot in her house ever again, but that wasn’t important. What was important was Mary, and being at his mother’s was going to be a damned sight better for her than a hotel.

“Looks like it.” he nodded.

“Will we still get our dinner?” Mary frowned “Like, we said we would do a beef roast this year.” “I’ll still make you a roast.” Fliss smiled, “As long as Evelyn is ok with it.” “Ok with what?” Evelyn asked, walking back into the room.

“With us staying until Mary is well enough to fly home.” Frank looked at her.

“And Thanksgiving dinner.” Mary added.

“And dinner.” Frank nodded.

Evelyn looked at him “Well I assumed you would be staying with me until she was well enough to fly home, Francis…” Frank arched his eyebrow at the fact she’d dropped his full name and besides him Mary sniggered.

“Francis…that’s so lame…” “Hush.” he looked at her before he turned to his mother. “Are you sure?” “Of course, there’s plenty of room.” she said.

“Thanks. Who was on the phone?” Frank asked.

“Oh, just someone from the University asking how Mary was.” Evelyn shook her head, “No one important.”

“That all they wanted?” Frank asked, and Evelyn sighed

“I should have been on a call this afternoon.” “On a Saturday?” Frank looked at her.

“Research doesn’t stop at a weekend…” Evelyn glared at him. “But like I said, no important. I’ll catch up on what they wanted another time.” with that she rubbed at her eyes . Frank studied her for a moment and gave a sigh, she looked exhausted. They all did to be fair, but his mother was almost 65, she was bound to be feeling it a little more than he or Fliss.

“Why don’t you head off?” he asked. “Go catch up on whatever they wanted, get some sleep and come back in the morning…you too.” he turned to Fliss. Immediately she began to protest but Frank looked at her, shaking his head “Look, all that’s gonna happen is I’m gonna eat half of Mary’s dinner-“ “-hey!”

“-and fall asleep.” he finished, grinning as Mary glared at him over the threat regarding her food. “It’s 5 pm now…I guarantee by 8 I’ll be flat out.”

“Well then I’ll go at 8.” Fliss pouted.

Frank looked at her, about to argue but Evelyn stood up.

“I’ll call for my driver.” Evelyn said, “I’m not going to lie, I am dying for a hot bath and a bottle of Malbec.”

“I don’t want to go yet.” Fliss pouted.

Frank took a deep breath, “Really, we’re going to have this argument about you being a stubborn brat?” “No argument. I’m not going yet.” “I’ll go ahead.” Evelyn said, stepping in as she saw Frank glaring at Fliss “I could do with making sure the guest room is ready anyway and making a few calls. I’ll send the driver back for you in an hour or so?” Fiss took a deep breath and then sighed “Ok, fine.” Domestic argument averted, Evelyn bid Mary a good night, gently pecking her head before she turned to Frank who was sat next to Mary and surprisingly did the same to him. He swallowed and looked at her, frowning a bit. She looked like she was about to say something but didn’t, instead she stood up and told Fliss she would send her a set of keys back with the driver.

Frank watched her go before he turned to Fliss who looked at him, shrugging her shoulders.

“She clearly found her inner mom.” Mary said, and Frank looked down at her, “Something underneath the Mother.” “She’s always been mother.” Frank said “I’ve never once called her mom, not without her protesting anyway.”

“Her loss.” Mary shrugged and Frank frowned again, looking at Fliss.

“Why do you say that?”

“Coz Verity told me that being a mom and a nanna was the best thing ever.” she shrugged “If Evelyn’s only ever been a mother, well that sucks…” Frank stared down at her, utterly dumbfounded at her comment as she handed him the menu card “I’ll have the chicken, but no string beans…”

***** Little over an hour or so Fliss received a call telling her that the driver was waiting outside. Once they finished removing what Frank needed from the bag, Fliss turned to Mary and gave her a hug and kiss goodnight before Frank followed her out of the door.

“Call me when you’re home.” he said, and she nodded, stepping into his arms before she gave him a soft kiss.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can in the morning.” she said gently. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” he smiled, kissing her again “So much baby girl.” Smiling at the nickname she picked up the bag, and with a last peck to his lips she headed out.

The drive to Evelyn’s was reasonably quick, and Fliss soon found the car pulling off the main road onto a sweeping driveway and into a large, open courtyard. The house was big, bigger than her parents so it looked but it was hard to see much it was dark. She thanked the driver as he walked her up to the door with her bag, before handing her the keys. Once inside she found herself in an immaculate terracotta tiled hallway, illuminated by a very expensive looking floor lamp in the corner under the huge stair case. Fliss turned and gave the door a soft pull before she began to walk deeper into the house, bag deposited by the foot of the stairs. She headed into a large sitting area, which contained a pristine leather couch and matching arm chairs, large TV and followed that through to another area which contained a grand piano, a large table and numerous bookshelves. That led into a large kitchen with hanging, brushed copper lampshades, and the room looked as though it spanned the entire width of the house. She stepped inside and then through another door which led back into a hall, passing another two doors to her right, which were both closed.

Frowning, Fliss saw the front door was open slightly, she must not have shut it correctly, it was quite a heavy wooden one after all in comparison to their PVC one at the apartment and probably needed a little more than a quick tug. Making sure it was snapped shut and the lock had clicked she grabbed her back and made her way upstairs. She reached the top and then stood, looking round. The hallway circled back round the stairs, rooms on all four sides. With a shrug she headed down towards the first door an opened it. It was a spare room, but clearly where Mary had been staying. It was decorated in soft shades of dusky pinks and golds, and there was a small bookcase with a few children’s books, some puzzles and TV with a DVD player sat on top of it. Fliss smiled before she headed to the next one. This was a larger room with a huge double bed, and on top of it sat two sets of clean towels. Deciding this was likely to be the one Evelyn was prepping for them, Fliss dropped her back down, and shrugged off her jacket, glancing at the door that led to the en-suite. Taking a quick look inside she knew she really should find Evelyn before she did anything else so she continued down past the next room which was empty, then the huge bathroom with a roll top bath, until she reached the final one which was on the opposite side of the landing. She gave a soft knock, before she entered, glancing around at the opulent master bedroom as soft music hit her ears, along with the sounds of water sloshing in a tub.

“Evelyn?”

“Fliss?” the woman called back and Fliss headed over to the door of the en-suite.

“Yeah…sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you…”

“It’s quite alright, I won’t be too long. Have you found your room?”

“Yes, thank you.” “Ok, well, go and help yourself to a bottle of wine and run your own bath in the main bathroom. Fuck knows you can probably do with unwinding a little too.”

Although she knew Evelyn swore, the sound of the words from her mouth still made Fliss chuckle so after thanking her she headed back down the stairs to grab herself a bottle, as directed. She headed into the kitchen, and as she was passing the open door to her left which she assumed led into some kind of utility room, a movement caught her eye. She stopped, but before she could investigate further she saw a figure emerging from the shadows moving towards her. Automatically Fliss began to back away and she felt her eyes widen and her chest constrict in utter fear as the man’s features became clear as he strode into the soft light of the kitchen. It was a face she hadn’t seen, other than in her worst memories and nightmares for years, not since she’d seen the court bailiffs lead him down from the dock after the jury had delivered their verdict. His cold grey eyes locked on to hers and he gave her a sinister smile.

“Long time no see Felicity.” John said, arching an eyebrow. “You changed your hair.”

**** Chapter 24

#riding high #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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samstree · 3 years

Text

You are too well tangled in my soul (4/5)

In which Geralt tries to apologize, Jaskier has some unexpected encounters and Roach is the best.

(love confession, kaer morhen, 6.1k, no warnings)

read on AO3.

War breaks out.

Nilfgaard mercilessly scorches the continent, and Jaskier survives. The next time he sees Geralt, there’s a lost princess in tow.

The girl has pale blonde hair, just as Jaskier remembers from when he performed at her birthdays. Her green eyes are big and wary, staring at the bard from behind Geralt’s armored bulk.

Jaskier wouldn’t blame her, from what he learned from his encounters with Nilfgaard the girl must have been through hell. And from what he heard about Cintra, well, she has more demons to run from other than the evil army. She looks exhausted too, hair dirty and eyes alert, studying Jaskier intensely.

“You were at my birthday. You sang the songs.” The princess’s crisp voice breaks the silence.

“Yes, Princess Cirilla. I was at three of your birthdays, though you were too young to remember the first two.” he bows. “Jaskier the bard, at your service.”

She softens, nodding at Jaskier’s gesture. Her lips tug upward.

“Just Ciri.”

“Ciri, then.” Jaskier smiles at her.

“I loved your singing. It was beautiful.” she bites her lips, pausing, before putting her arm around the witcher’s. “Geralt only said we were looking for a friend. I didn’t know it was you.”

The mention of the name snaps Jaskier’s attention back to the witcher, who remains motionless and silent. This entire time, Geralt has been staring at Jaskier’s face, like he could blink and the bard would disappear. Jaskier stares back, and the bruise in his chest throbs anew.

“A friend, uh?” he feigns nonchalance and fails, suddenly his throat feeling dry. “Now you use the word, after all these years. Thought you’d keep insisting on not being my friend until the end of time. Thought I gave you life’s blessing –”

“Jaskier,” Geralt exhales. The word is barely a whisper, but it’s enough to stop the bard from landing a blow. The witcher doesn’t seem to have more words, despite continuing to look at Jaskier with remorseful sorrow.

Good. The pettiest part of Jaskier thrills at his regret, after all he’s the one who spewed all the venom on top of that mountain.

But one look at Geralt, Jaskier realized that he is just as tired and disheveled as the girl, if not more so. Being on the run from Nilfgaard is no fun, he learned that from personal experience.

Knowing Geralt, he is going to neglect his needs in favor of Ciri’s, gritting his teeth through everything. Jaskier finds himself searching all over him for injuries, familiar worry bubbling of its own volition.

Jaskier cannot even stay mad at him for long. Damn him.

“Why are you looking for me then?” he asks.

“I –” Geralt pauses. “Nilfgaard is looking for us. Hunting us. They want something, and they are willing to raise armies to chase us across the Continent.”

He tightens his hold on Ciri. The young princess looks away with a haunted expression.

“And they are also trying to hunt down whoever might know your location. They’ll torture them for the information.” Jaskier adds. His two near escapes are too vivid in his mind. The first time he only got away by the skin of his teeth. It turns out he’s not so bad with a dagger when faced with two Nilfgaardian footsoldiers.

As for the second time, he may have had help from an old friend. Not that Yennefer would be thrilled if he ever called her that. The story of his life, he thinks, it seems to be.

Realization dawns in Geralt’s eyes. “You already know they are looking for you. Are you – did they get to you, Jaskier?”

“Get to me? No,” Jaskier chuckles tightly. “I wouldn’t be standing here, would I? Your secrets are safe, Geralt. Not that I knew your whereabouts for the past year. They didn’t get anything from me, if that’s your worry.”

“No. Fuck –” Geralt curses under his breath, frustrated. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

Jaskier challenges him, raising an eyebrow. Geralt struggles for words and starts to look like his usual brooding self again. It is Ciri who speaks up.

“Come to Kaer Morhen with us. It’s the safest place on the Continent,” the girl says.

Jaskier breathes, stunned. Of course, it makes sense for them to go. It is a home for Geralt. He remembers the first time Geralt told him about the witcher keep, in that greenhouse, a lifetime ago. To him, it is as much of a myth now as it was back then.

“You are sweet, Ciri. But I don’t think Geralt would want that.”

There’s a bitter tang in those words. Ciri scrunches up her brows, confused. “But he’s the one who wanted –”

“What Ciri meant,” Geralt interrupts, “was that Nilfgaard is still out there looking for us. When they can’t, they’ll come for you again.” Desperation bleeds into his tone. Or is it annoyance? “Come with us, Jask. You’ll be safe in Kaer Morhen.”

“I can take care of myself.” Jaskier’s resolution is swaying despite his pride.

“Jaskier…”

“Geralt.” He stays emotionless, waiting for the Witcher’s reasoning, but it doesn’t come.

It is the lost Cintran princess who decides for Jaskier.

“Can you just come with us?” her voice is uncertain, and it tugs at Jaskier’s heart. “Please?”

Jaskier looks into her green eyes and only sees the loss she endured. The fall of Cintra reached Jaskier like a punch in the gut. He thought Geralt’s Child Surprise – the bright-eyed little girl who danced to his songs – was lost with it, so when those soldiers started questioning him about her escape, Jaskier only felt relief. Now, the lone wolf stands protectively next to the lost lion cub.

Jaskier is glad Geralt went to find her, truly.

He finds himself nodding, and Ciri brightens up ever so slightly.

“So, you are the boy?”

The dark-haired witcher says upon meeting Jaskier for the first time at the gate of Kaer Morhen when Geralt and Ciri have gone to stable the horse. He’s the same height and build as Geralt, only his shoulders are just a bit wider. Unlike Geralt, his hair is a muddy brown, and three nasty scars run down the right side of his cheek, making him look almost grotesque.

“Pardon?”

“The boy Geralt kept seeing.” His eyes fix on Jaskier with amusement, the golden color eerily identical to Geralt’s.

“Oh, I didn’t know anyone else –” Jaskier is rather surprised that another witcher knows about Geralt’s condition. “Yes, that’s me. But I’m hardly a boy anymore.” He extends a hand. “Jaskier.”

“Eskel.” The Witcher takes it with a friendly smile. Huh, not all of them are broody and rude.

“So you know about our…” Jaskier trails off for lack of a descriptor. Their bond? Their relationship? They certainly are not in one.

“Not much. If you’ve known my brother for this long, you’d know how little he talks.” Eskel offers an understanding pat on Jaskier’s back. “He just came back here one year and couldn’t shut up about an annoying bard. Then he came back another year. Disappeared in the middle of the day, and scared the shit out of us. We’d thought he was cursed out of existence by some angry mage. When he came back, out of thin air too, he looked like he’d seen a ghost.”

“Not a ghost.”

“Not a ghost, only the same bard. As a boy.”

It makes sense, according to however little they know about the mechanism of it. Wintering at the witcher keep is the longest Geralt is away from the bard, so destiny has to drag him to Lettenhove. It would be hard to sail away from your anchor.

“Guess I’m too much of a nuisance. He can’t escape me even here, in his own home.”

“He never –” Eskel seems surprised at Jaskier’s remark. “I might need to have words with my brother, bard. And he was only upset because he worried for your safety.”

He smiles tightly. “It’s kind of you to say, Eskel. Though you don’t need to protect my feelings. I understand now. I would take myself off of his hands if I could.”

Too bad he can’t. Even if the invasion blows over, destiny would still work against Geralt’s attempt at free will at every opportunity.

He ignores Eskel’s inquisitive eyes as they stroll into the stone castle when Geralt and Ciri rejoin them.

Geralt is trying to apologize.

He knows by the way Geralt follows him outside, and onto the trail behind the keep, somehow with guilt written all over his posture. It’s a nice place for a walk and for Jaskier to clear his head and compose under the pine trees.

Geralt has tried several times in the past few days. Every time they are left alone, the witcher assumes an expectant look on his face and begins to find words. Every time Jaskier interrupts him before it starts, making up whatever poor excuses he can find. Every time Geralt swallows and lets him go. He puts on a stoic face but Jaskier always sees the disappointed droop in those amber eyes that anyone else would have missed.

Jaskier can’t avoid it anymore, between the fresh smell of pine – his favorite scent in the world – and the sky, there’s nowhere to hide, so he stops to face it.

“Just say whatever you want to say,” he lets out a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt blurts out without a beat. “I never should have said what I said. I didn’t mean any of it, Jask. I was upset and I took it out on you. It wasn’t fair.”

Jaskier blinks.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“You’ve followed me for twenty years. You’ve known me for even longer. Fuck, Jaskier. Your whole life, you’ve known me, and yet you chose to stay.”

“I did,” he whispers, “but you tried to push me away, like everything else destiny forced upon you.”

The hurt in those golden eyes is unbearable to watch, so Jaskier averts the burn of his gaze to take a deep breath. The smell of pine fills his lungs, crisp and soothing.

“It was a mistake. I know that now, Jaskier.” The contrite is unmistakable. Geralt’s gravelly voice is as pained as Jaskier feels. From the corner of his eyes, Jaskier notices Geralt reach into his pocket for something. It is a small notebook, leather-bound and abused at the edges.

It’s his notebook.

It’s their notebook.

“I’ve kept records of everything, just like you did.” he holds out the book for Jaskier to take. “I’ve seen the future, you –”

“No!” Jaskier steps away as if the book might burn him. “You can’t use it against me, Geralt. You think I’ve never seen the future? I know where we are going. I know I’ll still choose you, because how can I not?” his voice breaks at the possibility of him leaving Geralt by choice. “But it doesn’t make it alright. I can’t just forgive you and pretend we are fine, just because the future says we should be.”

Geralt lowers his hand and the book with it. “I meant that…I understand you now. Why you would stand by me when no one else does, when it’s so much easier to just leave.”

“And how exactly did you arrive at this grand revelation?”

Geralt softens, his lips quick upward ever so slightly. “I saw you. In a little cottage by the sea, years from now, happy.”

Jaskier’s breath hitches. He’s so used to knowing all different versions of Geralt, so used to having the upper hand in this little dance, that the idea of his own future laid out like this makes him queasy.

“You told me – or will tell me, rather – why you spent your entire life choosing me when I’ve done nothing but push you away.” Geralt’s voice breaks at the obvious regret in it.

Because I love you, Jaskier thinks. I’ve loved you for too long.

He’s become so familiar with the notion it’s as easy as breathing.

“What do you want, then?”

“A chance. To prove myself again,” Geralt pleads. “To prove myself a worthy companion to you. Because you are my friend, my best friend. You have been since you were so young and I was just blind to it. Jaskier, I –”

I love you.

“– I choose you too. If you’ll let me show you. For the rest of my life, I’ll prove it to you every day, because I –”

I love you.

“– I love you.”

The words come out soft and reverent, the whisper so careful as if to avoid the birds overhearing him. Geralt stills after the confession, his eyes fixed on Jaskier in earnest.

For a moment Jaskier believes the declaration an echo of his imagination, conjured up from years of longing and heartbreak. But when he holds his breath and looks into Geralt’s resolved eyes, the truth washes over him like a cool shower on an autumn morning.

Deep in those ember eyes is the same affection he’s seen many times, during those too-short visits from his older Geralt, in the teasing smirks he carried at the corner of his mouth, or in the sweetness hidden behind his kiss, under a cold Cintran sky and addled by too much ale. It’s in the way Geralt takes him apart with deft fingers and gentle touches, over and over again throughout the years.

It’s the same love that propelled Geralt to ask for his trust and his faith when this moment comes.

“You love me.” Jaskier muses.

“I do. I have… for a while now.” Geralt’s breath forms in the crisp mountain air. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way, Jask. But please believe me when I say it. I love you. It’s the truest feeling I’ve ever felt in my life. Without any djinn magic, or destiny deciding what’s best. Please, at least have this much faith in me.”

After all this time Geralt still thinks it’s possible for Jaskier to not love him back.

I’m going to make mistakes, the older Geralt once said, don’t lose faith in me.

He made a promise after all.

“Okay,” Jaskeir exhales.

“Okay?”

When he looks into the amber glow again Geralt looks expectant.

“Okay,” Jaskier repeats, “You have it. A chance for us to try again, if you want it to go back to… before.”

Geralt exhales like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. “It won’t be like before. I’ll do better, I give you my word.”

The sincerity is palpable in Geralt’s expression. The words come out so solemn and he’s clenched his jaw tightly. It looks like he just might break something if Jaskier doesn’t give him an out.

A smiles tugs at the corner of Jaskier’s mouth. And they say he’s the dramatic one.

“Oh, relax, you big oaf, before you hurt yourself. Of course I believe in you. It might be the most words I’ve ever heard from you. Didn’t think it was possible.”

He pats Geralt on the arm, before resting his hand there and squeezes. If Geralt leans into the touch, he doesn’t mention it.

“You,” Jaskeir continues, “You are forgiven, Geralt. I’ve always known I’d forgive you. You are not the only one who’s seen the future. Even if fate didn’t tell me to, I would still know you to be the best man I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I would choose to stay by your side every time.”

The shuddering breath that chokes out Geralt’s throat is almost like a sob. Rumors say witchers can’t cry, but Jaskier learned it not to be true long ago, and he can see how much Geralt is affected right now.

He reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Geralt’s ear before resting his hand on the spill of silver on his shoulder, and revels in the familiar feeling of silky hair against his palm.

“As for the other thing.” Jaskier thinks back on Geralt’s heartfelt confession, not sure if he has truly wrapped his head around it. “I think… I’ll need some time before we can do something about it.”

Geralt nods, his warm hand coming up to capture Jaskier’s wrist in a loose grip, the pad of his thumb stroking slightly again. Jaskier’s chest warms at the motion.

“Take all the time you need, Jask. I’ll be right here.”

They spend the winter in the keep, in this safe bubble they created.

Ciri’s progress is obvious even to Jaskier’s untrained eyes. Her stance becomes more confident every day, her moves faster. The clanking of blunt swords echoes above the training ground as Jaskier watches from a bench in the corner, plucking his lute absent-mindedly.

The lion cub is starting to look like her grandmother, with her hair tied back and the sword cutting through the air with force.

The rise in confidence is doing her wonders. Her smile is becoming more often as winter settles in. The first time Ciri laughed out loud at the usual tomfoolery Lambert starts at dinner table, all four witchers and Jaskier stopped to stare at her for a brief moment before joining in.

Later that night, Geralt got emotional when it was just him and Jaskier, cleaning up in the kitchen.

“It’s just… it’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh.” Geralt’s throat bobbles when he says, and Jaskier’s heart breaks for them both, so he takes the plates from the Witcher’s hands and pulls him in for a hug, one that’s a little too tight.

In the courtyard, flurries of snow fall steadily as Ciri disarms Geralt with a twist of her wrist, the heavier sword flying off to the side. She squeaks in excitement.

“Take that, old man!”

Geralt goes to collect his blunt weapon, his chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. “You only did it because I let you, Ciri. Your enemies are not gonna let you disarm them for practice.”

Her pride morphs into a slight pout before it’s tucked away by her regal stance. They’ll make a warrior princess out of her after all.

“You just can’t let me have this one, can you?”

“Yeah, old man,” Jaskier chimes in. “Just admit your loss. I’m sure the White Wolf should know when he’s beaten.”

From Geralt’s glare, Jaskier knows he’s enjoying this too much, but he just can’t get the proud grin off of his face. Ciri sends him a smug smile when she puts away her weapon and gears.

From a distance, Lambert and Eskel are sheathing their training swords as well when Jaskier notices the snow falling harder by the minute, sending a shiver through his body despite the heavy coat wrapped around him. Ugh, his fingers are numb now.

“All right?” Geralt is all packed up, cheeks flushed from the exercise. He’s only wearing a simple tunic and yet it looks like the cold does not affect him at all. Ridiculous witcher biology.

Mischief lights up in Jaskier’s mind when he puts down the lute and walks towards Geralt, before putting his freezing palms flush against the Witcher’s neck.

“Jaskier, what – Fuck!”

He expects Geralt’s usual grunts and retaliation at the blatant offense. Roughhousing has never been a stranger to them, especially now that they are at ease in their friendship again.

What he does not expect is the concern that appears in Geralt’s eyes after a moment of shock and the warm hands that gently cover his.

“Oh Jask, you are freezing.” Geralt’s brows furrow in seriousness, calloused fingers starting to rub the back of Jaskier’s hands in a slow rhythm. Now that he notices, the heat radiating off of Geralt’s skin is lovely, tingling the numbness in his rigid hands and sending a different kind of shiver down his spine. “Gods, you might get frostbite like this. Don’t you have gloves?”

“Er – that’s not…” Jaskier stammers, suddenly aware of their closeness and the lack of everyone else on the training ground. Thank fuck they’ve all gone inside before his foolish prank. “I – I lost them…?”

Now Jaskier is the one blushing, but Geralt pays no mind to his embarrassment and continues to rub heat back into his exposed skin.

“I’ll make you new ones then. Can’t let a lutist lose his fingers,” Geralt murmurs.

The urge to kiss this sweet man is overwhelming, Jaskier has to look away from the beautiful golden yellow to calm his fluttering heart. It’d be too soon. He’s still raw from what went down in the past year.

Thankfully Ciri calls for them to get inside before they freeze over. Jaskier pulls away to answer her, immediately feeling empty without the warm touch. Now he’ll settle for walking to the great hall where a hearth is lit with Geralt by his side.

A week later, Jaskier finds a pair of newly knitted gloves on his bed. They are made with Geralt’s favorite wool – a thick, soft material – and fingerless so he can play. When he slips them on, the urge to track Geralt down in the keep and kiss him all over fills him again.

Roach bites down on the second apple Jaskier offers her and munches gracelessly.

Jaskier pats her mane while she tries to chew off the fringe on his doublet. Now that he’s reunited with her master, Jaskier can spoil the mare as much as he wants. Not that anyone objected before. The mare clearly has a soft spot for the bard, Geralt is just too stubborn to admit it.

He is just saying goodbye to Roach when the familiar swoosh of magic startles him.

Destiny’s pull rarely works when they are together, so much so that Jaskier has almost forgotten about it for the months he’s within Kaer Morhen’s walls. On top of that, what greets him is not the bulk of a witcher.

Standing by the stalls is a scared little boy.

Jaskier is terrible with guessing children’s age, but this boy is definitely no more than six or seven, wearing plain summer clothes and holding a small bucket for dear life. The boy has a head full of dark curly hair and tears streaking down his cheeks. His brown eyes are wide and full of terror.

“Ma? Where are you?” he calls out, voice horse from crying.

Jaskier is stuck where he stands, too shocked to react. Somewhere next to him, Roach snorts nervously at the volume of the child’s cry.

Geralt once told him how he ended up in Vesemir’s care, when both of them had too much to drink on the eve of Belleteyn many years ago. They only meant to celebrate a hunt well done and Jaskier’s successful performance at the festival, but the drinks kept coming on the courtesy of the pub owner. Before Jaskier knew it, the Witcher was too gone and started to get melancholic in his inebriation.

For once in their lives, Jaskier was the one with some sanity left and promptly put Geralt back to their shared bed.

With the sound of people singing and dancing around bonfires in the distance, Geralt curled into himself, looking uncharacteristically small, and told Jaskier the last time he saw his mother.

“I stood there for so long, by the road. But she was gone,” Geralt slurred the words. “I kept waiting for her…”

Those words, combined with too much ale, broke Jaskier into a million pieces.

“It was so long ago. I don’t even remember what she looks like, the color of her eyes. Or my eyes, before…What was the color of my eyes?”

Jaskier had no answer.

That night, he listened as Geralt drifted off, thinking the witcher would forget about the confession come morning. Or was it Geralt who thought Jaskier never remembered? No matter what reason, Geralt never talked about it again and Jaskier respected that.

And here Geralt is, no more than seven, on what is probably the worst day of his life – having just been abandoned by his mother by the side of the road. He looks confused and cried-out, still clinging to the bucket so hard that his tiny knuckles are turning white.

His eyes are brown.

That’s all Jaskier can think.

The boy’s tears keep falling, and whatever heartbreak Jaskier felt on the night of Belleteyn, it’s not a match for now.

“Hey, it’s all right,” Jaskier shushes as gently as possible. He lowers himself in front of the boy, keeping the movement slow just to not upset him further. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Where is my ma?” young Geralt sniffles, and Jaskier doesn’t know how to answer that. The layers he’s wearing clearly cannot hold out the cold in the dead of winter. The boy is shivering.

“I’m sorry I don’t know where she is. But, here, put this on.” Jaskier shrugs off his coat and wraps it around the boy’s small frame, half of it pooling on the ground. He tries to coax the bucket out of the boy’s hands but he grips tighter.

“Where is she? Where did you take me?” the boy demands in panic.

“I promise I haven’t taken you anywhere, okay? Ger –” Jaskier catches himself. He’s a complete stranger to the child. He shouldn’t know him. “It’s too cold out here. We can go inside and wait for her there. Is that all right?”

The boy shakes his head. “Ma’s coming back to find me. I need to stay.”

“Okay, okay.” Jaskier tries not to panic, but he feels so helpless. He doesn’t even know where to put his hands so he tightens the coat around the boy’s shoulders. “How about this, I’ll find some help for us. Maybe someone from that castle can help. I don’t even know what would happen if they see you like this but…what other option do we have, eh?”

Before he can even get up, Jaskier finds the boy dropping the bucket and clinging to the sleeve of his doublet, the water spilling everywhere.

“No, don’t leave,” the boy says weakly, “Please.”

The boy’s chubby cheeks are streaked with tears, turning red in the mountain air. Jaskier wipes the wetness away with the pad of his thumb, his other arm still in the boy’s grip.

“All right. I won’t leave then, I promise.” Jaskier does his best to smile reassuringly. The ache in his chest makes it difficult but against all odds, it works. The young boy calms down just a little.

“I’ll stay with you, all right? But for now… do you want to make some new friends?”

Jaskier introduces the child to Roach, and he gets less afraid as soon as he sees the horse and reaches out to pet her. With their ridiculous height difference, it looks almost comical. The mare, ever the sweetheart, lowers her head as if she senses something familiar in the boy. She nuzzles his little hand and his eyes light up.

No matter how young, it seems Geralt will always enjoy Roach’s company above anyone else’s. Jaskier watches in wonder at the exchange before him. The boy’s distress dissipates gradually as the mare licks him and showers him in affection.

“Can I keep her?” the child giggles as Roach chews on his hair.

Jaskier smiles, “Sadly no, but maybe you’ll see her again. Who knows.”

All his life, Jaskier has known Geralt as the powerful witcher, his friend and protector. But right here, he’s just another ordinary child who loves giant animals. Only his future holds something no child should ever have to endure.

Jaskier wishes life wouldn’t have to burden this gentle boy, harden him into the warrior that he is now. This moment could last forever for all he cares, so this young boy wouldn’t need to go back to face the path ahead.

He doesn’t know how long they have here, undisturbed by the four witchers inside the keep, or the magic pulling them apart.

“Can I tell you something?” Jaskier says as the child runs his fingers through Roach’s mane. He turns around to look at the bard curiously with his beautiful brown eyes. “Do you know you’re a very good boy? And when you grow up, you’ll become a very good person.”

“Ma says I should do good.”

“She’s right.”

“And doing good is hard… sometimes.”

Jaskier swallows the lump in his throat. “That too. Life is difficult, unfair even. But you are strong, stronger than you’ll ever believe. Remember this, and you’ll find a way.”

“I’m strong?” the boy looks at Jaskier expectantly. His tiny frame is drowned in Jaskier’s coat.

“The strongest.” the bard nods.

“Like a knight?”

“Better than a knight.”

The smile that lights up the boy’s rosy cheeks is the most wonderful thing Jaskier has ever seen, better than the northern lights on these mountains. But their moment seems to have come to an end.

The swoosh of magic Jaskier knows by heart brushes by his ear, and Roach suddenly brays anxiously in her stall.

“I feel weird.” The panic returns to the boy’s voice.

“It’s okay. It means we have to say goodbye.”

“Are you leaving?”

“Never.”

“But why do we have to say goodbye?” his tiny voice gets tight and scared once more. Jaskier shushes him gently.

“Because we’ll see each other again.”

“And horsie too?”

“Her too.” Jaskier nods solemnly.

The boy waves nervously at Jaskier, and then the mare. His big brown eyes bore into Jaskier’s with hope and trust, a trust that will be returned decades from now, for him at least.

“Goodbye.”

Once again, Jaskier is left alone. Snow falls silently in the courtyard like it has been for days.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. Jaskier goes through dinner without a word, no matter how the four witchers try to engage with him.

Eskel is his usual self, nice and respectful, not prodding after noticing Jaskier in a weird mood. It’s something Lambert physically cannot do, because he constantly asks Jaskier what is wrong, trying to get a response out of him.

“You smell miserable, buttercup, like you are about to pass out.”

Jaskier imagines the tight smile he offers is not the most convincing, since everyone only gets more concerned. Ciri puts her hand on his arm as a silent question, and when she can’t get an answer she starts brooding just like Geralt.

Jaskier would laugh at their likeness if not for his mind racing so fast.

Geralt must have noticed the moment he came back from the stables. He has not let Jaskier out of his sight since, his worry silent but not pushing. After dinner, Jaskier can still feel the weighted gaze on his back, following him all the way back to the bedroom.

He leads Geralt into his room at the end of the hallway and shuts the door. With a soft click of the door, Jaskier turns to throw himself at the witcher with a force that would have knocked over any other man, but Geralt only catches his momentum, solid and steady. He buries his nose into Geralt’s shoulder and lets the familiar smell of pine and soap fill his senses.

“What’s wrong, Jaskier?” Geralt’s voice rumbles out of his chest, deep and patient. “You know, Lambert was right. You smell so…sad.”

“I made you a promise.” Jaskier’s voice is muffled by Geralt’s shoulder.

“What?”

“I made you a promise. Years ago for me, and years from now for you. To always have faith in you, even when you make mistakes.” Jaskier extracts his limbs and looks into the confusion in the flowing amber. He presses their lips together, sweet and lingering, like they have all the time in the world. The kiss tastes like the lost years between them, all the laughter and heartaches, the lust and yearning, and the dust and smoke from war. He pulls away.

The last time he kissed Geralt, it was by the side of a road, full of rage and hurt. This time, it’s hope that rises like a winter sun, cozy but not sweltering.

“This is me keeping that promise.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt swallows, composing himself, “You know I won’t hold it against you. It’s not fair for you to be pressured into this just for something I haven’t asked of you yet. I meant it when I said you can take all the time you need, because I did fuck up, and I’m so –”

“Don’t apologize again,” Jaskier interrupts, “I know how sorry you feel, how you’ll still feel even years from now. Just – don’t.”

He presses his forehead to Geralt’s and they breathe in tandem. Maybe he’s still affected by the memory of Geralt as a child, scared and alone, unaware of the hurt he’s about to receive. The trials, growing up away from home, training to become a weapon, the glares people cast at him. Jaskier shudders to think, desperately needing to shield his witcher from the world, but he was powerless in the stable this afternoon. He is not powerless now.

“How about a promise you did hear from me?” he asks.

Geralt frowns in confusion, waiting for him to explain, so Jaskier cups Geralt’s jaw to study him again, his thumb resting exactly where he wiped tears off of the boy hours ago.

“They were brown.”

The confusion in the amber eyes only grows.

“Your eyes, before the trials. They used to be brown.”

Geralt still looks at him incredulously. When it comes out like that, Jaskier probably sounds crazy.

“Your mother left you by the side of the road. She told you to get water, and when you got back she was gone,” he swallows, “You waited, holding a bucket of water. You waited until you went somewhere else. Somewhere cold, there’s a horse and snow and –”

“Oh.”

Realization dawns on Geralt like a lightning strike. He stares at Jaskier in disbelief.

“All these years –” he whispers, “How is it possible? I thought it was a dream. Vesemir told me it was a dream, that I was in so much shock that I conjured it up in my mind. A horse in the snow, chestnut brown, and…”

“And me,” Jaskier almost chokes out, “It wasn’t a dream.”

Geralt looks pained. All this talk about that day must be dredging up terrible memories and Jaskier never wants to hurt him on top of that.

“Do you remember what I said before you went back?”

To which Geralt chuckles tightly.

“That whole day was a bit hazy in my memory, Jask. Vesemir was right in that I was in shock. And I’ve tried so hard to forget about that day, to bury it so I don’t have to think about it.” he holds on to Jaskier, studying him in a new light. “I just remember that you made me feel so warm, Jask. You were the only good thing on the worst day of my life.”

The ache in Jaskier’s chest lessens somehow at those words. For whatever reason destiny decided to weave their fates together, he’s grateful for it just for that moment’s solace alone.

“You knew you were leaving.”

“I did. Now that I know, it was the first time I ever got pulled through time. To you.”

“I did promise we would see each other again.” Jaskier smiles.

Geralt pauses for a moment. Gradually, the golden yellow lights up like the most beautiful constellation in the night sky.

“You promised to never leave me.”

This time when their lips come together, it’s quiet and natural, like a piece of puzzle falling into place. Jaskier backs Geralt towards the bed, and they almost fall over onto the mattress, breaking the contact.

Geralt chases him with heated fervor, to which Jaskier gladly returns with a soft moan. He’s missed his witcher after all. Any space separating them at this moment needs to be closed like it personally offends him.

Tomorrow morning, Jaskier will wake Geralt with fingers through his hair and lips pressed to his forehead. Tomorrow Jaskier will tell him how much he loves him, over and over again. It won’t be the first time Jaskier has uttered the words, but it will be the first affirmation Geralt receives. Tomorrow Geralt will crinkle his eyes and return the words sleepily while dragging Jaskier back under the covers.

Tomorrow they’ll start a new chapter, together.

For now, they fall into each other under the night sky of the Blue Mountains, in a small room with a roaring fire burning in the hearth, tucked away from war and heartbreak.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #time travel #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fic #geraskier fic #geralt apologizes

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basicjetsetter · 3 years

Text

Part II

♡ Pairing: Peter Parker x Black!FemaleReader

▹ Warnings: Language, Mentions of Death, Depression, Triggering Content, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt

▹ Words: 3k

▹ A/N: ATTENTION! This is an emotionally heavy part. Please DO NOT READ if you know you will be affected. For those struggling with depression, I see you, I care for you, and I love you. You’re not alone and you are undeniably worthy of love.

-Five Years and Twenty Nine Days Later-

You don’t want to get up.

Your phone’s alarm clock is rounding on its tenth circuit, if your counting is correct… and there’s a good chance you blanked out for fifteen minutes while watching a strip of sunlight lethargically inch down your blanket to the foot of the bed, so your number may be off by six or seven.

It’s not that you’re tired or anything, or maybe you are and that’s beside the point. It’s just that your bed is far too comfortable for your own good and you know today is Saturday, the busiest day at Hal’s Diner, and it just so happens you’re scheduled for an 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. brunch rush. If you had a choice, you’d stay in bed.

But you don’t. And you’re running twenty minutes late… for the fourth time in two weeks.

I’ve got you.

Shut the fuck up.

You wearily snarl, snatching your pillow out from under your head and slamming it against your face, uselessly stuffing it over your ears as if that would somehow miraculously block out the words.

Usually, the voice stayed quiet. After three years of the repeated promise drifting around your brain like a lost ship at sea, you had finally figured out how to anchor it to the deepest, darkest, most unchartered recess of your mind. Every now and then, though, they’d find a way to rattle the chains, just to remind you of their eternal presence, but it never lasted long. You didn’t acknowledge them anymore. They no longer fooled you.

But, twenty-nine days ago, something reinvigorated the voice, giving them a renewed sense of purpose and a reason to break free.

Twenty-nine days ago, on the exact anniversary of their disappearance, everyone came back.

Out of the blue, in the middle of the day, all of the people Earth mourned for five years reappeared to a very, very stunned world. Celebration rocked the streets of New York and all over the globe. Lovers lost returned. Mothers. Fathers. Sisters. Brothers. Babies. Friends. They all came back. And the voice in your head broke free of its chains, rampantly bouncing around your mind as if they were on pure steroids, ready to charge forward and find the one your Destined Words belonged to.

Everything reverted back to normal.

Except, besides your newly released Destined Words, nothing changed for you.

You weren’t there when… when your best friend rematerialized in your previous apartment. You moved to a smaller, modestly priced place six blocks away. It was great for what little money you had, and your landlords, a lovely couple that always leaves you a present outside your door for Christmas and birthdays, were generous enough to accommodate for your lack of funds.

You just couldn’t keep your parents’ apartment. Not when you knew they weren’t coming back.

No one ever speaks about the casualties of the ones lost that day, the ones who perished from the effects of the blip. For a long time, you just couldn’t cope with the fact that a swerving hit from a rogue truck whose driver turned to dust was all it took to take your parents away. But you had to move on.

Ever since that day five years ago, you’ve been on your own.

You’re sure your friend tried looking for you by now, continually calling up a retired cellphone number, searching through deleted social media accounts, maybe even asking your old high school for your whereabouts to no avail. Even though you’re not far from home, she’d never find you.

You don’t want to be found. You like being alone.

With a great, gusty sigh, you roll out of bed, grab some clothes and undergarments, then pad to the bathroom, ignoring the chiming circuit of your alarm clock. It can wait. You go through the motions: washing up, putting your hair in its regular bun, brushing your teeth, and staring at your unaged face in the spotted mirror.

It’s not vanity, though it’s common knowledge that your features will be impervious to aging for a long while. You literally haven’t aged a single day since the blip.

It was an intriguing phenomenon after the first two years. Everyone your age who had heard their Destined Words but had yet to meet their Soulmate just stopped aging, and when the younger generation hit the age of eighteen, they stopped aging as well. For some, like you, the effect was felt rather than seen. Ever since the string inside you snapped, you knew that cosmic time would stand still until you connected with your other soul. You’re not holding your breath for that anytime soon.

As you step out of the steam-filled bathroom, your alarm blares out its last chime before switching to the Vmm Vmm Vmm of an incoming call.

You pick up on the sixth ring. “Good morning, Hal.”

“This is the fourth—”

“The fourth time. I know, I know. I’m on my way.”

Hal grunts into the receiver, “Don’t get smart with me, little lady. Just because you’re my best server doesn’t mean I won’t fire you.”

That’s precisely what that means, and he knows you know it. You blow out a sigh, “I’m seriously almost out the door. Like two steps.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, a hint of a grin in his quizzical noise. “Well, hightail it, would’ya? The joint’s packed already and I need all hands on deck, so scoot.”

“Scooting,” you confirm, snagging your bag off of your sofa and grabbing your keys. “Who’s with me today?” Please don’t say Wendy. Please don’t say Wendy.

“Chris and Wendy.”

You groan as you shut the door behind you. “Come on, Hal. She’s dead weight in the morning. I might as well be working with a zombie in an apron.”

Hal grumps, “At least the zombie gets here on time.”

“Have you had coffee yet? You’re not you when you’re decaffeinated.” It’s true. Even with your truancy, Hal wouldn’t hold it over your head more than twice. He’s usually as chipper as a dog in a dog park at this time, bustling and joking up a storm.

He takes a loud sip, then says, “We’re slammed, is all, and I’m missing my best hand.” Two disgruntled heys ring in the background and Hal immediately issues apologies. “Just get here, will ya?”

Before you can remind him again that you are on your way, he disconnects the call.

You’re wondering if it’s too late to go back to bed.

The little, infamous family diner is only seven blocks south of your apartment building, a nice walk when the weather’s good and a pain in the ass when it’s not. You used to enjoy the quiet mornings and the stillness that came with it, but ever since things went back to normal, you can’t survive the walk without a pair of headphones jammed in your ears and your music’s volume turned all the way up. Everyone’s just so… loud.

Thankfully, today, the walk is a straight shot and you’re in the doors within fifteen minutes.

It’s like stepping into a den full of ravenous animals. Worse, it’s like stepping into a den full of ravenous animals and being stuck with the task of serving them.

“Look who’s finally decided to show up,” Wendy chides, stifling a yawn as she shuffles to a table and places down three menus. She’s twenty-two years old and likes setting your teeth on edge.

You deadpan, “Did the cat drag you in from the front door or the back?”

“Knock it off, you two,” warns Chris, walking by with two arms balancing four plates of the Sunrise Breakfast Special. He looks at you, then jerks his chin back to the kitchen. “Boss is about to blow his top.”

Nodding, you make your way to the back, giving a small wave to some regulars. Out of breath and sweat running down his reddened neck, Hal is moving like a man caught in a whirlwind, flipping eggs and pancakes and sausages and hash browns and bacon while checking orders and filling plates. As soon as he hears the kitchen door close and sees you, he visibly sags in relief.

“Don’t bother clocking in. Just put your apron on and get out there.”

You nod. Set down your things. Put on your apron. Arrange a plastic smile.

Go through the motions.

It’s all the same thing every single day. Wake up, work, school, sleep. Repeat. Unlike the other constants, school is something you’re temporarily trying out. It wasn’t your original plan, the whole four years to a bachelor’s degree, then some more years for a master’s. You gave that up long ago. Right now, you’re just taking a free weekend art class at a community college. Oddly enough, it’s something you’re beginning to look forward to on Saturdays and Sundays.

Work, while you’re great at what you do, is never a highlight.

Hal was right. The diner is slammed, and you’re swept up in the current of rude, demanding customers, snide remarks from Wendy, cheerful shrugs from Chris, and barking orders from Hal for six whole hours. You work through your two fifteen-minute breaks. No one reminds you. You slip on spilled hash browns. No one helps you. You bring back a plate three times to satisfy a customer who kept finding fault with their eggs. No one thanks you.

Everything is back to normal.

I’ve got you.

“Fuck off,” you snap, slapping a hand to your mouth when you see the elderly woman you’re serving knit her brows in revulsion. “Oh, no, ma’am. I’m-I’m sorry, I was—”

She stands and marches out of the diner before you could explain, snatching her ten-dollar tip off the table.

“… talking to myself,” you finish under your breath.

She’s the last of the brunch rush, leaving only the regular afternoon crowd and a few stragglers. The clock near the cash register reads 2:13 p.m.

You brush off the disappointment of a lost tip and head to the kitchen to grab your things and leave, Chris and Wendy following you. Hal’s two other workers, the ones here till closing, cover the floor well. Not like they had much to do.

Hal is whistling a jaunty tune when you walk in, stopping to salute you, Chris, and Wendy with an exhausted grin. “Nice work out there, you guys. See you tomorrow.”

Wendy is out the door the instant she clocks out.

Chris catches your arm as you grab your bag from your small locker. “Hey, um, I sort of heard your little outburst, and I was wondering if you were okay.”

You nod, gently shrugging his hand off. “Yeah, it’s just a tip. I made enough.”

“No, not that,” he shakes his head, clearing his throat and pushing a hand through his choppy beach-blond hair. He ineptly bends his head down a little, getting close enough for a private conversation you do not want to have. “It’s just… you’ve done that before and I just want to make sure everything’s alright with you.”

You can’t put the plastic smile back on, he’s seen it too many times to know it’s not real, so you half-heartedly grin. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

“Yeah, anytime. Hey, so, me and a couple friends are hanging out tonight. There’s gonna be a music festival in Cunningham Park. Wanna hang?”

Chris tries this every week. At first, you thought it was his bashful attempt at asking you out, but he’s a happily taken man with a big heart and a lot of friends. Every customer he meets, boom, they’re friends and soon loyal customers of Hal’s. It’s a gift. You just wish he caught your not-so-subtle hints of evasion.

Tonight, though, you had the perfect excuse. “Can’t. I got class.”

He tilts his head in confusion. “On a Saturday night?”

“Yeah. It’s a free course. Get it where I can take it, you know,” you awkwardly laugh, hoping Chris wasn’t offended as you take a couple of steps back towards the exit.

His smile doesn’t falter. “Maybe next time, then.”

Not likely. “Sure, yeah. See you later.”

You duck out before he says goodbye, dashing out the front door and speed-walking home.

I’ve got you.

You stop dead in the middle of a sidewalk.

Where did that come from? It’s never said it three times in a row before. Does… does that mean something?

Your breath quickens at the thought, and you spin around, scanning the vacant street. You’re the only one occupying the sidewalk, you and a curious squirrel sniffing at the crisp air. There’s not a person in sight. When you’re certain you’re in the clear, pivoting a glance around one more time for good measure, you pick up the pace, practically running the rest of the way home.

Once you’re in your apartment and the door shuts, you desperately whisper to your mind, “Don’t say it anymore. I don’t want them, okay? I don’t want a Soulmate.”

Nothing.

“I know you hear me,” you bite out aloud, forcefully shoving back the urge to yell. “Stop saying the words.”

Still nothing.

Silence rings hollow in your mind like the voice is waiting for your temper to cool down. Like it knew it upset you and felt chastened enough to back off and take a time out in a corner.

You stand immobile in the middle of your cramped sitting area. Tense. Waiting. Waiting longer than you care to admit. The urge to fight deserts you as quick as it comes, but you’re still standing there with your fists balled up, feeling more and more defeated as the minutes drain away.

The voice isn’t going to leave you alone. You know that. It’s here to serve one purpose, and the only thing holding it up is you. You’re meant to meet whoever those words belong to… but then what? They magically fix you? They love you back to normal? Five years ago, you may have believed they can do that. But, the problem is, you’ve gone through enough life-altering events in the last five years to last you a lifetime, and this one person, this person destined to pair with your soul, won’t be your wave-of-a-wand solution.

You just want it to stop.

I’ve got you.

A lone tear slides down your cheek as you trek to your bed and climb in fully clothed.

For a long time, you simply stare up at the ceiling as the tears leak out the corners of your eyes. You make no noise, and your chest doesn’t jerk up and down with sobs. The tears gather, and then they fall. Gather and fall. Gather and fall until there are no tears left. You continue staring at the ceiling.

You think back to the days when those godforsaken words and the future they foretold brought you happiness. What a wonderful promise, pairing with someone who will always be there for you in some capacity and will instantly love you. You can’t recall any Soulmate story not working out. Maybe they just never speak about it. Why mar the fantasy?

The sun dipped below the horizon a while ago, and now the moon shines bright in the night sky. You missed your art class.

Your body is as stiff as a board when you sit up. There’s a tight pounding in your forehead, either from crying or lack of food, but you aren’t bothered enough to deal with it. Instead, you move to the only window in your room and pull back the curtains to gaze at the stars. Not many are out yet, but they glitter like gems around the moon, and the night sky nears a lovely shade of midnight blue.

The sight is so pretty; you find yourself grabbing a couple of paint bottles, brushes, and a small canvass, then heading out of your apartment, walking up six flights of stairs to reach the roof.

It’s quiet when you get up there, save for the noise of zooming cars below. The first time you came up on the roof, just out of curiosity, you loved how solitary it felt, loved the view overlooking the building-strewn skyline and the overall height of the complex. It became a nice place to visit when you wanted to be by yourself.

You walk over to the edge of the building, sitting your supplies down on the ledge, then look up at the sky for the best angle to capture the moon and the stars.

The sky is vast. So endless. So open. So free. You stop scoping out for the perfect angle and just admire the shining moon when your eyes land on it. It’s waning, only a sliver of its surface visible as it prepares to transition into a New Moon. Then you gaze at the stars as they dimly twinkle back at you… like they can see right through you.

Like they can see your sadness.

You step closer to the ledge, each step laden with the weight of smothered grief. You lost everyone. Your parents. Manda. She’d never recognize the person you’ve become.

You step onto the ledge, not looking down but up, trying to memorize the image.

You lost your Soulmate. That broken string in your chest never felt the same, even after everyone came back. Maybe you were too far gone for any connection.

You turn around. You’d thought you’d feel numb, but acceptance fills you. It’s okay to let go.

You lower your eyes, slowly lean back, and let gravity take over.

Air sails past your ears in a rush as you fall, and you can’t really focus on anything except your erratic heartbeat. You don’t struggle as your body wants. You just fall and wait.

And then, in a sudden flash of red and blue, you’re propelling sideways and swinging upwards, a strong arm pressing you against a hard chest.

“I’ve got you.”

As soon as he said the words, you knew who they belonged to, as if you knew this entire time. Even with the mask covering his face, you knew. But it still doesn’t stop you from incredulously saying, “Peter?”

His masked face snaps to yours. A small part of you tries to pin his surprise on you correctly guessing his identity, but something bigger assures you the reason for his alarm is a match to your own.

He knows you’re his Soulmate.

...

Part III

#peter parker #peter parker au #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x #peter parker soulmate au #soulmate au #spider-man x reader #spider-man x black!reader #marvel fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker angst #slow burn #black!reader

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quilloftheclouds · 2 years

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i'd love to hear Víðarr and Charlie rambles!!

[Help me develop my side characters!]

I REALLY LOVE THESE TWO SO THANK YOU FOR THE EXCUSE >:D

Also you asked for 'rambles' so I'm not sorry for the length nope

I don't have all the exact details of their early lives worked out, as it's not honestly crucial to the Anchored Souls story, but their adulthood is fairly important!

Víðarr wasn't quite as emotionless-like as Io, but Charlie was definitely the only one who could get a laugh or even just a smile out of him! Usually with inside jokes or some convoluted scientific funny or something. The two had been friends since they both first met each other in their early years of training, and Charlie's been Víðarr's right-hand man ever since, especially once Víðarr earned the rank of captain and required advice on big important things from someone he trusted.

Víðarr and Charlie had worked together for quite a number of years by this point, so when Víðarr suddenly closes himself off from his friend, the doctor wants to know what's up. Charlie's shut out---Víðarr knows involving his friend would endanger him, and decides not to take that risk.

But then this mysterious "scholar" named Dione Nikolaeva is invited on one of Sørenson's voyages, and Charlie starts to get annoyed that Víðarr's paying so much attention to this lady he's just met when the doctor's left in the dark. He's learning to accept it at this point, though.

But said 'annoyance' gets even worse when Víðarr starts spending a lot more time with a certain María Martínez-Alcantara when serving as an emissary for a peace treaty to Spain. María's nice, though, and Charlie likes her, so Charlie doesn't understand why he's so annoyed about how often Víðarr's around her.

Yeah, well. Said 'annoyance' is called jealousy.

Dr. Charlie Mellor is single in legal terms, but uh... this ramble has led to me deciding Charlie almost certainly had a crush on Violet's father and he may or may not have had a polyamorous relationship with the captain and his wife oops. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyways, Charlie's named as Violet's godfather, which in this time period meant that he was obligated to care for her in the event that something happen to her parents. Fast forward near a decade, Víðarr comes home from a secretive voyage with a... child. Probably. Said child is promptly adopted.

Said child is also not really a child, as Charlie soon discovers, being the only doctor that Víðarr trusts enough with the knowledge that holy mother of god his recently adopted child is a hecking SIREN. But yeah that was pretty important because Dr. Mellor is able to help Celestine with some fairly major medical concerns about being a siren that refuses to enter water ever.

Fast forward a few more years and oops Víðarr's now missing and his wife is dead and the siren-child is gone and Charlie's left with a small and horribly traumatized little girl to take care of now oops. Charlie still has to work aboard a ship, though, so Violet is essentially smuggled into Navy training as a sailor by lying about her age so she can stay with her new guardian.

And yeah that's them~

#vidarr #charlie #maria #celestine #dione #io #anchored souls #Quill's answers #i really like that actually #charlie was already kinda a third parent this just makes sense #also yes vidarr did/does indeed have a crush on dione #yes this is super awkward for everyone involved when everyone finds out

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aspectedstar · 3 years

Text

[Info updated as of Patch 5.55]

Name: Listelle Viyrel

Unsundered Name: Ephine

Gender: Female

Age: 21 in ARR, 26 in EW

Race: Raen Au Ra

Relationship: Official with an untempered Elidibus, but still lowkey that not a lot of people know of their status.

Family: Biological family is unknown. Her adoptive Miqo'te parents she keeps in contact with. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn and Elidibus are her main sources of 'support' these days.

Orientation: Bisexual / Demisexual

Nameday: 16th Sun of the 4th Umbral Moon [August 16th]

Abilities/Talents: Archery, Botany, Cooking, Able to speak multiple languages [thanks Echo], Healing, Reading.

Job: Former conjurer turned White Mage; Archer/Bard; Adventurer; A Scion of the Seventh Dawn; Botanist whenever help is needed.

Appearance description: A pale-skinned Raen Au Ra that stands at 4 fulms and 9 ilms. Listelle has dark blue, shoulder-length hair with bangs that naturally curls at the ends. Black highlights are added into the mix and always reapplied whenever they start to fade. Sometimes, puts up her hair in high side-ponytail that has a braid embedded around the back of her head. Has side bangs that hang from her face with this hairstyle as well. She has heterochromia eyes with her left being a pale blue, while her right is a bright purple. Listelle is slightly muscular, but also petite. Her body has vanilla scales peppering her body here and there. Mostly can be seen on her face; Her horns a slightly curled, but go backwards only a bit from her face. The tail she has a few spikes here and there, but it's thin. Mostly spiking at the end of it. Usually wearing a pair of reading glasses, because her eyesight isn't 100%.

Unique features (scars, tattoos, etc.): Multiple scars across her body from battles over the years. The biggest one was from the first meeting with Zenos, where he ended up nailing her in the abdomen badly. The scar is a jagged line in sideways line that covers a good portion of her middle to lower back. Listelle is very self-conscious about this particular one; Doesn't like wearing gear that shows off that part of her body.

Personal Beliefs (religious or otherwise): Fully believed in the Mothercrystal and the Twelve, but has changed since the events of SB into ShB. Mostly because of what Elidibus and Emet-Selch had told her. Still believes in a sense of one's wrongdoing will bite them in the ass later in life.

Residence: Medium house plot on the beach in Shirogane, Hingashi. Amaurot on the First.

Birthplace: Somewhere in the Black Shroud.

Dreams: When the world is done being saved, which is almost never; Wanting to have a peaceful life with Elidibus as much as possible; Hoping that one day more White Mages can be sanctioned by the Padaji; Maybe one day have children, but that's not as important.

Fears: Dying when the world needs her the most; Seeing close friends and family die in front of her again and again; Injured to the point she can't fulfill her duties as Warrior of Light; Losing any of her senses.

Introverted / Extroverted / Ambiverted (bold what applies)

How do they handle stress?: When in front of people, she tries her best not to show she's bothered. There are ways for others to know she's about to hit her limit. Listelle is known to pace around a room, fidget with her hands, and get teary-eyed, but the latter is hard to see. Only ways she can combat it is behind closed doors, or out in the wilderness when no one is around. Going out into nature to find plants or hit trees with her axe is one way. Another way is to basically beat her frustrations out in cooking or baking foodstuffs. Resting under trees when only one can hear naturalistic sounds.

What’s the state of their living quarters? (messy, clean, etc.): That depends. Usually, it's a disorganized mess. Much to Elidibus's dismay, she can usually find things easier than him. If he ever tried to clean her home, she'd yell at him on not being able to find anything. It's not completely trashed, but enough to know someone lives here. As the Warrior of Light, she doesn't get enough time to do homely chores. So, it's mostly left go for weeks at a time.

How do they handle meeting new people?: Listelle usually is kind and friendly to people she meets. Though, it depends overall on the new person (or group)'s attitude, body language, voice tone, and facial expressions. If they come off rude and negative, she is more reluctant to be as nice back. However, since she is not the diplomatic person, she usually leaves all the table-talking to her fellow Scions. Will chime in with a few words, if asked. It all depends on the situation and people involved.

When facing certain doom, what’s their outlook?: It's...questionable. Try to keep a stoic facade, but inside she would be screaming. Or, she'd probably look at like this: Why not going out with a huge bang of glory, and take her foe(s) with her? As a healer, she understands death, but is afraid to die at the wrong time. Regardless, she will tackle it the best she can.

What do they do to relax?: Reading any books she has in her shelves. Have Elidibus tell her stories of the world before it was Sundered. Cooking and baking when she has the time. Gardening, when she has time, yet again. Sitting under trees listening to nature. Go to the beach when no one is around. Stargazing with Elidibus at night.

What’s their favorite outfit?: Her 'civilian' clothes with the Azem constellation crystal as a necklace pictured blow.

Traumas: It's been several over the last few years of becoming the Warrior of Light. From being a healer, she has had a hard time accepting she can't save everyone. The loss of Haurchefant hit her physically hard. He saw Listelle as herself, not just the 'hero' or a weapon to be used by the city-states. Still goes to visit his grave in Coerthas when she can. Seeing the turmoil Garlemald had done to Ala Mhigo and Doma's regions. Zenos yae Galvus, because he reminds her of herself at certain times. How they can relate, as much as the Raen wishes not to admit it. The entire events of Shadowbringers with fighting for another world to holding in the light corruption. Her aether is still a mess, even after Ardbert had joined his soul with hers. Ending Emet-Selch's life, even when she understood his plight and ideals. Having to fight and kill Elidibus; The ONE PERSON that understood and had true affection for her. Yet, he was tempered by Zodiark, so they were forced into battle. It still haunts her to this day that she may lose Elidibus forever.

About them as of current story patch: As of Patch 5.5, Listelle is struggling on what to make of seeing that being surrounded in light. Being told the Final Days is coming--which is no doubt with Fandaniel and Zenos--and the entire world is on her shoulders. This is stressing her out to no end, even with Elidibus trying to keep her calm. He is her main anchor to keep her grounded currently. With the possibility of going to Sharlayan, she is not happy. Possibly having to keep the untempered Ascian unseen, depending. For now, she is stressed and pacing about what to do.

History: Listelle was found outside the doors of a Miqo'te couple living in the Black Shroud. Only a single note saying: "I cannot care for her; I'm possibly dead by the time you read this. Her name is Listelle; Please raise her well". The baby was an Au Ra Raen female, but they had no idea if there was such a family nearby. Living mostly in an isolated area, they didn't get many visitors. Just some adventurers, botanists, conjurers, or miners that came through the area. Despite this, they willingly took the baby in. They had issues trying to concieve their own child, so Listelle would fill the void. The void of trying to have a child, which they had now.

The Raen would come to know her parents as Sizha Vebei, her mother, and Rehzih'li Vebei, her father. They lived in a small cabin in the Southern part of the Shroud. Away from settlements like Camp Tranquil and Quarrymill, they kept to themselves for the most part. They raised their adoptive child as good as any adoptive parents could. With the times that Rehzih'li would go to Gridania for work and supplies, he would ask around about Listelle's family. He usually came up empty handed as per usual. This went on for years, until the Seventh Umbral Calamity hit Eorzea.

Listelle was 16 summers old when Bahamut broke free of Dalamud to reign terror from the heavens. The Black Shroud went up in flames in several areas. Thankfully, herself and her parents survived, but lost their home to the flames. The family was devastated, but then they decided to move on to a battered up Gridania as other refugees. They would have to make a new life within the city-state.

To the five years leading up to ARR, Listelle practiced conjury within the Stillglade Fane. Her parents had taken up other odd jobs to support themselves and their daughter, so Listelle had decided to do the same. With people becoming adventurers, the Raen decided to do the same. With her aetherpool higher than most, she fit right in with the Conjurers' Guild. Even with weird looks, the Au Ra flourished under their guidance and care. She would learn how to properly harness healing magics, as well as learn to borrow from the very Elementals of the Twelveswood.

Eventually, Listelle would become more involved with restoration efforts to help Gridania. Only her efforts would soon become widespread. Widespread enough for a certain organization to recruit her to their cause..

Feelings towards others: (add or remove as relevant)

- Elidibus – Her official partner, who she had a rocky relationship for years. However, it changed much after his defeat by her hand on top of the Crystal Tower in the First. She loves the Ascian dearly and would do anything for him. He had been there as well for her during some stressful times, despite him being under Zodiark's influence. They confide in each other constantly, and is a major support pillar for Listelle.

- Emet-Selch [Hades] – Despite their brief interactions, Listelle came to understand more about the Ascians. Even if it was a hard pill to swallow, the brief details Elidibus mentioned to her started to make sense. Like pieces to the puzzle was finally coming together. She would indulge and ask him a lot of the Ascians' history, the Old World, and the like. As much as her comrades didn't like their Warrior of Light conversating with their worst enemy, she ignored them...sometimes. She was upset to end his life when they couldn't come to some sort of understanding. She still has sobbing fits over Hades' demises, because of the fact of the Azem constellation crystal she has. It was even hinted that he knew of something going on between her and the Emissary at the time. Listelle always denied it, but there was a twinkle in those golden eyes that he knew of something.

- Feo Ul - As much as Listelle appreciates them, she can't deal with their sudden mood swings. The Fae being the Fae, she can't understand the times she gets yelled at for not summoning them. Being called cruel and heartless by Feo Ul made her uneasy around the pixie. Just over the course of the Shadowbringers, she saw the good in the King of Faeries. They became the next Titania, yet, they still treated Listelle as their most precious mortal. After all, they WERE connected by a pact! Feo Ul was another pillar during her struggle to contain the light corruption within her. The constant affection and support helped keep the heroine to move forward.

- Alphinaud – Meeting him the first time made her want to rethink her choices. However, with his constant presence helping her with 'official talks', she has been grateful for him. He has come a long way and has grown. Listelle hates meetings, and groans anytime Alphinaud tells her she has to go. Because she is the hero, she has to go, despite her wild protests.

- Alisaie – It took a bit for them to grow on one another. Alisaie understands when Listelle has her moments. Moments she wants to hide, but also treats the Raen like an actual person. Not just the hero, not just the Warrior of Light. Listelle finds herself getting teased when Alisaie fawns over her, depending if she's down or upset about something. Mostly by Y'shtola though.

- Y'shtola – Their relationship is...weird at best. Y'shtola and herself have their moments when they get into arguments. However, she knows the Miqo'te woman wants the best for her. During the events of Shadowbringers, she was worried over Listelle's state of taking in the Lightwardens' corrupted aether. Y'shtola and Ryne were there for her as they journeyed to Emet-Selch's domain. Full of Light, the heroine had a hard time doing basic tasks at times. Due to this, Listelle appreciates her. Just doesn't like when she teases her about Alisaie and G'raha's constant admiration of her.

- Thancred – Saw him as a flirtatious man who she didn't want to deal with at all. He even made comments about her 'beauty' on several occasions to get under her skin. However, as the years went by, she began to learn he was a lot more. Mostly learned this during her time on the First with the others and Ryne. Just the interactions between him and Ryne made her heart ache for them both. Including when they had to go back to the Source.

- Urianger – This Elezen made her want to rip her hair out most of the time. Just the way he spoke, his mannerisms made her so confused. Had to get the other Scions to repeat what he said to her many, many times. Still not fond of his secrecy behind her back on the few times. However, she does understand it's a necessary evil, yet she hasn't completely forgiven him yet. Though, she does appreciate any vital information he can provide her.

- Tataru - Oh sweet Tataru...Listelle loves the receptionist to death. Another person who treats her like she's a normal person. However, how she manages to get things done makes Listelle double think herself. Like the time the Lalafell wanted her precise measurements to get her outfits made. Just the way Tataru brings up results is quite...scary. The heroine watches herself whenever she's around the Lalafell woman.

- Minfilia - The first person to understand she had the power of the Echo. All those years of not understanding random visions she had when she was a child. She learned more from Minfilia over the course of the years. Only to be upset when she disappeared, then find out she was connected to Hydaelyn. She looked up the Hyur and she still misses her from time to time.

- Papalymo - The duo of 'Yda' and Papalymo made her giggle at times. There were times she didn't quite understand the relationship between the two. She got along with the Lalafell fine. That is, until he sacrificed himself to contain the newly born primal at Baelsar's Wall. She wanted to stay behind and help him, but alas, was forced to flee with the others. She still thinks about him from time to time, hoping he's watching over them from afar.

- Lyse - Wasn't sure how to feel about her until after the whole incident at Baelsar's Wall. She had come to understand Lyse as someone who wanted to fight for her homeland. As they journeyed over Gyr Abania and Othard, she had come to see the woman in a new light. With how she handles matters in Ala Mhigo with Raubhan at her side, she hopes the city-state flourishes under their care.

- Gaius – Rivalry since taking on the Ultima Weapon. However, with tackling the Weapon Project, she put aside her dislike for him. In order to stop these machines of death, she would work alongside him. Listelle began to see him in a new light as the Weapons consumed most of the orphans he saved back then. With only Allie left and the Weapons done with, she hopes Gaius can find some sort of peace.

- Nero – Despite him working at the Garlond Ironworks now, she still finds him quite annoying. Though, she has to admit he has helped her on several occasions when Cid couldn't. So, she'd tolerate the man at best.

- Cid – Thankfully to the Garlean many times over. With his few interventions to save her from certain doom, to helping her take down Omega. The accomplishments and shit they've seen and done is enough for a novel or two....or several. She gets along with him fairly well.

- Haurchefant – The Elezen man from House Fortemps and Camp Dragonhead. It was no wonder the silver-haired male admired her from the start. Even wanting to rush in to stop her from taking on Shiva. Never do anything reckless again! He had said to her, which she had meekly agreed to. When fleeing from the bloody Ul'dah banquet, he was a pillar of strength during that time. With most of the Scions gone, she blamed herself for their loss. Alas, Haurchefant wouldn't have none of it. Always cheering her up with hot chocolate and word of encouragement. However, when he died in her arms saving her from a pillar of light...Listelle was devastated. She was depressed for a long time, and still is when she thinks about it. Still blames herself for his death, even if he wanted her to smile. "A smile better suits a hero"; A statement she won't forget easily.

- Aymeric – The first meeting with him..she wasn't impressed. She had heard Ishgardians were uptight and unwelcoming. As much as he sounded polite, she didn't trust him off the bat. However, as time went on, she began to realize he was much more than. Even inviting her to a dinner after Nidhogg's defeat, which she enjoyed. Just his question about what she wanted for herself? She knew not the answer to that at the time. Regardless, the Raen goes to visit him when she can.

- Estinien – This dragoon is so stiff was Listelle's first thought. She didn't exactly like him off the bat. However, the journey across Dravania opened him up to her. She did try her best to understand him, but it was hard. As the years went by, she had come to know he had paid respects to Yysale, which she appreciates. Even the time when she collapsed in the Ghimlyt Dark, trying to persuade Zenos/Elidibus to stop this madness. Estinien had rescued her, which opened her up to that he was more good than she thought. Now with him joining the Scions, more opportunities to know him better have opened.

- G’raha – Annoying scholar to deal with when looking for the damn aethersand. Made it a game, then she promptly yelled at him for making her run around more than she had to. Investigating the Crystal Tower together, she did appreciate his work. When he locked himself away in the tower, she was a bit sad to see him go. Listelle did understand why he had to do it though. During the events of Shadowbringers, she had her suspicions on who the Crystal Exarch was. She couldn't completely confirm who it was, until she was being consumed by Light Corruption. Despite all this, she scolded him greatly after winning the fight against Emet-Selch. She knew he had a deep admiration for her, but only saw him as a friend. Regardless, their friendship is still healthy and blossoming.

- Other Warrior of Lights - Appreciates their hard work and resilience to keep the fight going. No matter what, as long as there is a light, they can still prevail.

[Character sheet made by @lizzy-dotharl. Template taken from @earthlystar.]

#ffxiv #ffxiv oc #original character #character sheet #listelle viyrel #oc: the blood lily

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beneaththetangles · 3 years

Text

Reader’s Corner: Those Snow White Notes, Your Lie in April Revisited, and A Couple of Cuckoos

She’s My Knight, Vol. 1

The premise of this lovely little comic is simple: Ichinose has always been the popular kid, attracting attention from all the girls until cool, collected Mogami comes along, stealing not only Ichinose’s popularity, but also his heart. I’m a total sucker for the Mogami type in manga and anime—the tall, athletic, boyish girl—and she makes a perfect pairing with the pitiful Ichinose, who increasingly, as the volumes progresses, falls apart around her. There’s not much else here—just lots of gags and near-miss moments, so in that sense, She’s My Knight may end up being a forgettable series. But just as Ichinose is the damsel to Mogami’s knight, this series might be rescued, too, by hints that the girl is not as clueless as she seems. But even if that’s not true, even if the series means to simply tease us for endless chapters and results in a series that isn’t unique in any way, the manga would still hit the sweet spot of feel good romantic comedy so well that it doesn’t really matter—this is the perfect volume to open as you sit back, kick your feet up, and prepare to fall in love. ~ Twwk

She’s My Knight is published by Kodansha.*

A Couple of Cuckoos, Vol. 1

Nagi Umino learns quite the shocking truth: As an infant, he had accidentally been switched with another baby, and had essentially grown up his whole life as an adopted kid. To make matters worse, upon meeting his birth parents, and the girl, Erika Amano, that he had been switched with, he finds out that their parents had decided that the easiest way to resolve this whole matter is to have the two of them get married so that all the parents can officially consider both of them their children! With an anime adaptation announced recently, I figured I’d check out the first volume of the manga, and true to the name, it’s quite crazy. With a mess of family relations and some side romantic antics involving a smart girl Nagi has a crush on, this manga definitely has all the fun of a good romcom, and there’s not really too much that annoyed me about it, either, other than that the volume ended way too soon. I also liked how it touches on the awkwardness of trying to connect with a birth family you didn’t grow up with, and I hope future volumes do more with that along with the romance stuff. ~ stardf29

A Couple of Cuckoos is published by Kodansha.

Street Fighter Gaiden: Vol. 1

Videogames have made the transition to manga many times, and some have even done it on multiple occasions, which is the case with Street Fighter. I picked up Street Fighter Gaiden, which has two volumes and focuses on various stories in the SF series, focusing on various characters. Ken and Ryu get their due, and so does Chun-Li, who is some nice panels participates in a drug bust in San Francisco. Other stories feature Fei Long desiring to do something more challenging than be a movie star, leading to travels to Japan and a tragic accident while stopping some criminals; T. Hawk protecting fellow natives from another tribe who are being harassed by Balrog; and the final story, where Guile becomes involved in underground fights while trying to prevent a friend from getting involved with Shadaloo, the secret evil organization of the series. The stories veer from the traditional backgrounds of some of the characters, like Fei Long and Guile, but it’s interesting to read how the author puts them together. Fans of Street Fighter should check this series out! The drawings in the manga looks dated and a little rough here and there, but I certainly enjoyed it and will be picking up volume two. ~ Samuru

Street Fighter Gaiden: Vol. 1 is published by Udon Entertainment.

The Dawn of the Witch, Vol. 1

Witches seem to be making a bit of comeback in manga lately. The Dawn of the Witch, one of the new entries, seems at first blush to add little that’s new to the canon, assembling a weak main character mage, overpowered but very young looking master witch, talented witch / love interest, and a beastman, as they undertake a special type of journey / course assigned by their magic school. However, tropes can be deceiving. Volume one tells a story at breakneck pace, developing relationships, adding backstory, providing action, and dumping a ton of information, which while it could become oppressive, in this manga, is captivating. The world and its history are fascinating, the way magic is used has some uniqueness (including a cursed, talking staff?), and the divisiveness between witches and the church shows depth. The world-building in just this one volume is extensive and engaging, and the story seems to be in good hands, while the art and character design, developed by two additional members of this three-person manga team, are just as extraordinary, bringing vividness to action scenes, boldness to the characters themselves, and lettering and paneling that add further dimension to goings-on. The frequent and obvious fanservice, unfortunately, can be quite distracting; it’s not a coincidence that it takes a back seat once the story ramps up, indicating how unimportant it is. By the last chapter or two, there’s no room for panty shots; we’re swept up into the lives of these characters, the choices they’ve made and are making, and the world they inhabit, which in terms of recent witch manga, is second to none. ~ Twwk

The Dawn of the Witch is published by Kodansha.*

Those Snow White Notes, Vol. 1

Moving to Tokyo after the death of his guardian, grandfather, and teacher, Setsu is a lost soul. Though he carries with him a shamisen, the ancient three-stringed instrument, Setsu is unable to play, haunted by the words of his grandfather which told him he was unworthy of it. But will this move to Tokyo and the people he meets there be just what Setsu needs to find his sound? The first half of this initial volume is one long chapter, and reads like a one-shot, an almost self-contained story of Setsu’s serendipitous meeting with a hopeful actress, Yuna, and the impact the two have on one another. However, this front half of volume one isn’t particularly distinct in any way, and despite a desire to connect emotionally with readers through the young protagonist and and his family, the panels fall flat in this aspect, as do they when depicting the sound of the shamisen, whose tone and rhythm I could feel but not the emotion it gives. The second half of volume, however, establishes the story and characters better. Setsu’s personality is better defined, as is his brother’s, and new supporting characters are introduced as Setsu begins to attend school, setting the stage for a club-centered drama, a la Kono Oto Tomare and Chihayafuru, two other anime centered on historic Japanese pastimes. And like those, there’s potential here, though it will be lost if Those Snow White Notes can’t find consistency and an emotional anchor, which would be a shame, as the first episode of currently-airing anime adaptation showed how a few adjustments could turn this story into something quite special. ~ Twwk

Those Snow White Notes is published by Kodansha.*

Your Lie in April, Vol. 4

I’m continuing my re-read of Your Lie in April and have reached Volume four, a part of this series which can be a tough read. Kousei has finally returned to the piano scene after two years away to find that his childhood rivals have only improved. Both of them were motivated by him to become better. Emi saw him when she was very little and it inspired her to play, believing in her heart to play for joy, while Takeshi is driven to perfection to reach what Kousei had always achieved. Then there’s Kousei himself. In these chapters, readers bear witness to the emotional and physical abuse Kousei underwent as a child and it’s hard to witness. But it does help present a complete picture of the person Kousei has become so far. This is a challenging volume because of what happens, but it’s important to the overall narrative. Beautiful artwork and emotional moments will keep me moving through this re-read. ~ MDMRN

Your Lie in April is published by Kodansha.

Skip Beat, Vol. 17

The “Suddenly, a Love Story” arc is an oddity, a portion of Skip Beat that is quite long and cumbersome, with not enough Kyoko and perhaps too much of the unappealing side of Ren, full of insecurity and lacking much of his initial appeal. Volume 17 thankfully puts the arc to rest with a quick but exciting (and revealing) finale which pits Ren against no, not Shotaro, but Reino, the abusive and perhaps occultist musician. The next arc also begins in this volume, introducing Kuu, a movie star more famous, it seems, than any previous character in the series. Although we get to know him just a bit, he appears to be a rival who could threaten Ren. He also immediately challenges Kyoko, providing the potential for her to really chew up character interactions, something sorely missed in the previous arc. The final chapters of volume 17 feel like a breath of fresh air, hopefully pointing toward compelling chapters ahead—though I fear the problem of an unappealing Ren may be not be solved anytime soon. ~ Twwk

Skip Beat is published by Viz.*

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Reader’s Corner is our way of embracing the wonderful world of manga, light novels, and visual novels, creative works intimately related to anime but with a magic all their own. Each week, our writers provide their thoughts on the works their reading—both those recently released as we keep you informed of newly published works and older titles that you might find as magical (or in some cases, reprehensible) as we do.

#Manga #She's My Knight #Ikemen Kanojo to Heroine na Ore #A Couple of Cuckoos #Kakkou no Iinazuke #Street Fighter Gaiden #The Dawn of the Witch #Mahoutsukai Reimeiki #Those Snow White Notes #Mashiro no Oto #Your Lie in April #Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso #Skip Beat!#Reader's Corner #Articles #Author: TWWK #Author: stardf29 #Author: Samuru #Author: MDMRN

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