#and you can take the fact that the coin fucking cut his eye open as a metaphor for whatever

[nyankoizumi]

Grabs DHMIS tv show by the shoulders and draws blood like that one meme please please please PLEASE let duck have a turn on the self awareness. Let him go insane. Let him see the situation he is in or show us if he knows it and how he copes with it please please i am begging you they're gonna kill my wife if you don't

#dhmis #dhmis meme #dhmis duck #i was gonna add 'and make him gay married' but i want everyone to hear me out not just the Fluffybird believers i failed you uys #dont hug me im scared #duck might be perfectly aware of his situation and decide to not fight against it because he fears that #so thats qhy he gets nervous everytime things get out of script. or at least what HE thinks is the script #because if he really REALLY knew he wouldn't worry about things like yellow guy changing because it happens everytime electracey shows up #but if he thinks he KNOWS whats supposed to happen but he actually doesn't then #i dont know if im making sense but i thimk you know what i mean #point is i want duck having a repeat of episode 5 of the webseries #....... preferably without dying actually but #actually the whole duck going along the show for safety in obedience can also fit with the theory that lamp already told us the plot #since he /is/ the one that gets the pound after the jobs episode #maybe he thinks whatever is in charge here will reward him for playing along #also why he's not very helpful when the others are trying to break the cycle #and you can take the fact that the coin fucking cut his eye open as a metaphor for whatever #god i really hope duck doesnt die but i have zero hopes on my man im so sorry

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Fashioned for Love

Summary: It’s never clear what he’s thinking – and you’re not sure if you want to know.

Notes: I wish I could see him as the incel he is, but Fabien Frankel is just too hot smh. If u guys want, I could write a happy sequel to this.

Warnings: reader and ser criston are both a little delusional, smut, angst, forbidden love

Masterlist | Part 2 | Requests are OPEN! | Let me know if you want to be added to a taglist!

He slinks through the backdoor in the middle of the night. A kingsguard in the Street of Silk – it would be unseemly, and even though he doesn’t come to the brothel for the whores, you know that he hates walking these parts of the city.

Instead, he comes for you – the maid that clears the rooms after noble lords are done spending their coin and themselves. He doesn’t pay you, you’re not a whore, but you don’t mind that. And anyway, you’re not sure whether you’re in a position to refuse him.

Most nights, he comes to fuck and leave as soon as possible. Tonight is not one of those nights. Instead, he sits in your only chair, silent.

You walk to him cautiously, like a mouse avoiding a cat. When he lets you approach, you begin to take off his armor. He stares at you like he wants to kill you. Sometimes, you think he’s about to.

“You’re losing weight.” Is the first thing he says to you. You pause, before you continue taking off his vambrace.

“Not much coming in these days.” You answer finally. He nods. If he cared about your empty stomach, he would give you money, or food, but he does neither.

When his armor is gone, he pulls you to your cot and sits you down. A moment, you’re not sure if he wants to fuck you, but then, he begins to undo your braid. From what you’ve gathered, he had a little sister when he was young. Maybe this was how he spent evenings in his childhood, taking care of his sister before going to bed.

“Would you leave this place with me?” he asks suddenly.

“Can’t get much worse than King’s Landing.” You reply dryly.

He gives a dry scoff, and you dare to look at his face. Deep shadows lie under his eyes, and you’re sure it’s the crown prince’s doing. Or, more likely, the fact that Princess Rhaenyra is in the city. You don’t know what happened between the two of them, only that Criston mumbles her name in his sleep and spits it out like venom during the day.

You take his hand, resting on the edge of the cot, and he rips it away. This is how it always is – balancing a line between aggression and adoration. The two things you know from him, the two things he does best.

Moments later, his lips are on yours and he’s devouring you like you’re his first meal in days. Mid-kiss, your stomach rumbles, and he pulls away, rolling his eyes.

You think he’s going to leave when he walks towards the door, but he grabs something out of his bag instead and returns to you, holding out bread and cheese. Cautiously, you take the bread first, savoring each bite while he cuts the cheese with his knife.

When you’re done, Criston tells you to lie down on the cot, taking of your clothes before he begins kissing and worshipping your body in a way that would seem whole if there wasn’t a bitter look in his eyes. Occasionally, his teeth scrape against your skin, keeping you from floating away in your thoughts.

Normally, he’s the one on the receiving end, but tonight, he’s intent on serving you. It’s probably Rhaenyra. You don’t know much about the princess, only that you’re about the same age, and that she exhausts Criston.

You don’t hate her because of it, he’s a complicated man, and you don’t love him. Or so you tell yourself. But Criston is a good lover, a rare commodity around these parts, and no gossip comes from him.

Heat pools in your belly when he reaches your thighs, sucking on soft skin until you know a bruise will appear there. It’s the only way he can make you his, and he exploits it. There are already dark hickeys on your breasts and stomach, where your clothes will cover them, but on your thighs, where there’s no possibility of anyone seeing, he takes his time.

By the time he touches your cunt, you’re a mess, melting at his touch. Blindly, he caresses your waist, before he grips it tightly, licking a stripe up your cunt. You let a moan slip, and he glares at you with fear in his eyes. Fear for his honor, that he will be found out, not out of fear for you and your position.

But he’s too good at it, and you can’t help but let out a muffled moan as he sucks on your clit, plunging a finger in. He knows what he’s doing as he hooks it upward, finding that spot. He’s relentless, in this as he is in the few fights you’ve witnessed.

He doesn’t care about your pleasure, but making you cum gets him off. You can feel him digging into your leg, and without warning, he’s buried in you to the hilt. Before you can moan, his hand is clamped over your mouth as he snaps his hips forward. The switch in his gaze is so quick you almost miss it, but suddenly, his gaze softens and he flips around so that you are on top.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers.

“It’s alright.”

“No. I’m a Kingsguard, I shouldn’t even be here, and if I were it’s my duty to-“

“Stop it. Don’t do this.” You interrupt him. His hands, one tangled in your hair and the other steadying your back, come to a halt.

He knows what you mean, and he feels guilty for it. You hate that look in his eyes, so you roll your hips to make him stop. It works, and the pit in your stomach tells you that you wish there was a love confession instead of this.

It’s silly, but you can’t help dream it. The runaway bride of a knight in shining armor. That could be you, if he loved you, if you loved him. If his cloak was any color but white.

Instead, his hands grab your hips, guiding your movements until his head falls back. Ser Criston Cole is handsome, untouchable, unattainable, but this Criston, your Criston, is beautiful.

There’s silence except for small grunts and moans of pleasure, so quiet that they’re swallowed by the walls. If his honor allowed it, he would make you scream, but this way, he swallows the louder sounds with kisses.

You can tell he’s close when he begins to thrust upwards, and his breathing grows erratic. He pulls you off of him when he’s done, uncaring whether you’ve had your release or not. He makes you cum mindlessly, rubbing your clit until you’re there and tears prick your eyes.

Shame heats up your cheeks as you feel his seed drop out of you and turn sticky between your thighs.

“What did you mean earlier?” he asks. He’s staring at the ceiling, unable to look at you and what he’s done. He wants clarity from you.

You pull your blanket over your shoulder, trying to hide your guilt somehow. It clings to your sweaty skin, only making you feel worse.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“When you interrupted me.” He sounds like a commander, not a lover.

“You get so…” you stop yourself, looking for the right words. “Sometimes you make me think you care for me.”

He doesn’t answer you. Instead, he sits up, pulling you into a sitting position. You lean your head against his chest, the cool pendant of his necklace pressing against your cheek. Sometimes, you pretend you’re only a doll with no emotions. It makes things easier than illusions and dreams.

“I can’t,” he begins, his voice cracking. “care about you.”

“Wish you did.” You blurt out. He looks at you, meeting your eyes for the first time tonight.

It feels like he’s seeing you.

“I’ve hurt you.” He states. You scoff, and it sounds too harsh for him. He’s never hit you, or hurt you physically, but for a split-second you think you’ve gone too far.

“Talk.”

“I’m not sure whether you hate or love me. Same goes for me.” You say after a while.

“Could you? Love me?” he asks quietly. He sounds like a shy boy.

“Maybe. If cruelty wasn’t your nature, then you’d be easier to love.”

He pushes you off, anger blazing in his eyes.

“I am not cruel.” He snarls.

His hand tries to grab your hip, trying to push you off, but he misses, grabbing your thigh instead. You can see the moment he feels it in his eyes.

“I am not cruel.” He repeats, wiping his hand on your blanket.

“You pretend to be, at the very least. You leave me here, stewing in guilt. You speak cruelly about the princess because of something that happened years ago. Your anger directs every move you make.”

He looks ready to kill you now. “You’re quite eloquent for a lowborn.”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about this matter.” You fire back.

“I can be kind.” He argues, but the way he says it makes it sound like a challenge to himself. You allow him to wipe you clean, to pull a clean shift from the hook on your wall. You can’t bring yourself to tell him that you haven’t cleaned the other shift and need to wear that one until it is dirty first.

Criston sits back down. You can feel the bed dip under his weight, but you continue staring at the ceiling across from you. The clean shift feels nice on your skin, a taste of the luxury he doesn’t even question.

“Please.” He whispers, his arm hovering above your waist. It’s the first time he’s said that word to you. Normally, he takes. You can’t resist him.

His hands trace your body, untangle your hair. It’s a pure touch, but it’s sullied by the things that happened minutes ago.

“I would run with you.” You say.

His eyes roam the room, landing on the white cloak tucked under his armor in an attempt to forget about it.

“I was made for love.” He says, sounding so sure of himself it almost makes you smile. “I didn’t know what I was giving up. I thought the honor of it would sate me, but it doesn’t.”

“That doesn’t make you bad.” You reassure.

His hand rests on your stomach, and you can almost hear his thoughts.

“We could run away. Sellswords make good money, and I can work as a barmaid or such if you want.” You offer again.

You crane your head back to see him, and his eyes are closed. He looks peaceful, as if he’s imagining it and it’s good.

“I’d get too jealous. Bar patrons are horrible.” He responds.

“What would you have me do then?” you say jokingly. His tone is serious when he answers.

“Take care of the house. The children.”

“Children?” you ask, and the notion tugs at your heart. You have no family, never had one. The whores have a bond of their own, but you’re not one of them, only a shadow that slips in and cleans away the unpleasantness of their work.

“As many as possible.” He nods. You can’t help but chuckle at that. You never took Criston for a family man.

“Then why don’t you take me with you. You could kidnap me while I’m sleeping and I probably wouldn’t mind.”

His smile falls, and his usual mask returns to his face.

“It’s too late for that.” He replies flatly. His arm wraps around your waist almost possessively. You close your eyes, pretending to fall asleep. He does before you, and you listen to his heartbeat, slowing in his chest.

You try to stay awake as long as you can, trying to commit his features to memory once more, but eventually, your body takes over.

The next morning, Criston is gone. Only a bag of silvers tells of his presence.

#ser criston cole #criston cole #ser crispin #ser criston #crispin cole #ser criston cole x reader #ser criston cole x you #ser criston cole smut #ser criston cole fanfiction #criston cole x reader #criston cole x you #criston cole fic #house of the dragon #criston cole x fem!reader #ser criston cole x fem!reader

[masterqwertster]

For the hurt/comfort prompts I'd love to see 15 with Orym or 27 with Ashton.

I'll do both prompts, thank you. Prompt

15 "My mom used to do that" A bit awkward for Orym, as his mother is implied to still be alive while this prompt vibes towards (believed) dead mothers. So have a little indirect use of the quote during Orym's 5-ish years of wandering after Will's death.

"Help! Marna's in labor!" comes the panicked shout from one of the covered wagons.

Orym can mentally hear his ma tutting about how a woman in the last month of her pregnancy shouldn't be risking the stress of a bandit attack on a caravan using a lesser trade route. Especially without a midwife or someone who knows how to deliver a baby at her side and ready to act at all times.

He's got blood and cuts and bruises on him from said bandit attack (which is what happens when you hitch a ride as a guard), but it doesn't stop him from stepping up.

"We're going to need lots of boiled water and towels, alcohol for disinfectant, and a waterskin to keep her hydrated," Orym calmly instructs, wetting a cloth from his own canteen to start a pre-cursory scrub of himself.

The other members of the caravan are surprised to see the small halfling warrior take command, but they don't argue his matter-of-fact tone and hop to it.

______________________________________________________________

It's hours later that Orym is once more scrubbing blood off his hands. This time with the sounds of joy over a newborn child in the background.

"I can't thank you enough," Marna's father says. "How did you-?" he gestures back at the celebration.

"Know what to do? My ma is a midwife, she used to take me with her sometimes when I was little," Orym explains with a shrug. "Some things just stick with you."

"Right. Well, I think you've certainly earned this," and he holds out a small coin purse.

"I couldn't possibly," Orym demurs, folding the larger hand back around the bundled coins. "Seeing a new life safely into the world is more than reward enough."

A displeased frown crosses the older man's face, but he relents and puts the coin purse away. "At least let me buy you a drink when we reach the next town."

Orym hesitates a moment before excepting. "Sure. To the health of your new grandchild."

A grin splits the new grandfather's face and he gives a hearty pat to the halfling's shoulder before dragging the smaller man over to enjoy the impromptu festivities.

This was mostly inspired by chapters 18-19 of Fullmetal Alchemist, where Winry helps deliver a baby. Since Orym's mother is a single midwife, I'm betting as long as Orym wasn't squeamish, she probably ended up bringing him along sometimes, instead of possibly dropping him off with Derrig and Nel.

27 "I'm going to carry you, okay?" Ashton's just kind of built for carrying with their high Strength score, isn't he?

It's been a while since Ashton's gone off in a blind rage (or rage in an actual fight in general). A state of true fury fueling every blow that won't slow until every enemy drops.

He pants as the adrenaline fades to a level where he can think about more than what to smash next, the surging magic dying down to its constant buzz at the edge of his awareness.

And he hears Milo whimper behind him.

In a moment he's dropped to one knee beside them, hands hovering, unsure of where is safe to touch, desperate to do something to help. Another whimper escapes the tinkerer, and he settles on risking a gentle hand on their shoulder, just enough contact to let them know he's there.

Milo's eyes blink open behind their cracked glasses, finding Ashton's face. A calloused hand comes up to grab his wrist.

"I know you're not okay, so tell me what's hurt," Ashton says, a bit more growl in their voice than normal. But fuck it, they've just come out of a deep battle rage and the adrenaline's not gone yet.

"My- My leg. Think that- that fucker broke it," Milo stutters out, gesturing to their right leg laid out before them, the left pulled up against their chest.

"Thigh or shin?" Ashton asks, reaching for a piece of splintered bo staff and pulling out some cording.

"Sh-shin," they whine, wincing as stone fingers gently brush along the indicated area.

It doesn't take Ashton long to splint Milo's leg with the fragment from one of their attackers weapons. Milo tells him it broke because the dumbass who owned it hadn't accounted for his literally rock-hard head when they tried to brain him.

"I think Anni can heal this, if she's home," Ashton declares once they finishing tying the splint in place. "And it's going to fucking suck, but I'm going to carry you, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Milo agrees. They've hardly got room to object. It's either be carried or use Ashton as a crutch, and they'll certainly get home quicker if Ashton carries them.

"Alright, here we go," Ashton says, getting his arms beneath Milo's thighs and back, lifting with a small grunt. Not because Milo is heavy (the human is maybe one hundred pounds soaking wet), but because the adrenaline has completely faded now and everything hurts. But that's his new(ish. It's been some months since the Hexum Job) fucking normal. Nothing worth bitching about when there's things to do.

He's as careful as he can be, winding through the streets of the Core Spire and down into the Fownsee Hollow, but it doesn't stop Milo from wincing and whimpering at the jostling of their leg. There are eyes on them once they enter the Hollow, whispers following them down. Milo is a pretty well-known and respected figure in these parts, their skills making them highly sought-after, and Ashton isn't without reputation himself, if less exceptional being muscle with a highly memorable appearance even before the patch up.

Eventually, though, the journey comes to an end at the Krook House. Thankfully, Anni is, in fact, in. And while she is hungover, she also has enough magic and sobriety to pump some Healing Words into Milo's leg, taking them from a sharp ache to a dull throb.

"Thank you, both of you," they say after their two tenants get them comfy on the battered old couch.

"Whatever."

"Fuck off."

They just sigh and smile.

#MQ&A #critical role #orym of the air ashari #ashton greymoore #MQfic #hurt comfort dialogue prompt

[duckingwriting]

Manuscript Search

I was tagged by @talesofsorrowandofruin and you can find her post here!

NO pressure tagging: @author-a-holmes, @mariahwritesstuff, @mthollowell-writes, @mrbexwrites, and leaving an open tag for people to hop in on.

The new words are: enlarge, coin, bill, and angel.

I'm going to be searching for the words anyone, everyone, someone and no one in Wanted: 'Til Death.

As always it's bellow the cut.

CW/TW - Sex,

anyone -

Phil wasn't sure if the scent of cigarette smoke or incense was the bigger cause of the haze filled room. He figured it was probably a combination of both. Not that they would stand a chance of getting anyone here to stop smoking. And the incense was needed to covered up the heavy scent of sex. Phil saw some of Marian's girls look his way but none of them approached him.

everyone-

“Phil…” Robin groaned tipping his head back against the back of the tree. Threading his fingers through the man’s dark locks. “How much time we got?” “Mmm…only five men. The ‘corns are flighty too.” Phil trailed his mouth over the stubble covered chin and down to the neck to lightly nip and kiss. “Not long then.” “Long enough if you’re fast enough.” Robin gripped Phil’s hair and pulled his lover’s mouth back to his while pulling a jar of lubricant from his pocket. Pulling back he grinned the brilliant smile everyone knew him for nearly taking Phil’s breathe away.

someone-

Robin laughed. “Why ever not? It’s not like Pie's easy to see on moonless nights.” John looked up to the moonless sky Robin had gestured to, weighing his words carefully. “I know…You care a lot for him, Robin. But he’s the Sheriff.” Robin snorted. “For fuck’s sake, John. It’s Philip. Badge or no he’s not gonna arrest me just because Mayor Henry demands he does.” “And what if someone notices that?” John finally turned to look at the shadow he knew was Robin. “That no matter how often the two you cross paths both of you walk away without bullet holes?” “We’re both light on our feet.” Robin dismissed again. “I’m just saying. Someday someone will notice him and his connection to you.” John warned as he started off down the road. “And they’ll either use one of you against the other or just eliminate whichever one is easier to get to.”

no one-

There was no reason to think that anyone else knew who was beneath the disguise. No one ever saw beneath them after all. So when the targets were all lined up and the shots began Phil felt no need to warn Robin against showing off. It always brought a smile to his face and even in the darkest times that smile would sooth the ache in Phil's chest. It's how it always had been and he suspected it was how it always would be. The sun rose, rain was wet, Marian would take advantage of any man foolish enough to let her, Tuck would preach, Phil would turn a blind eye to the sudden coin some citizens got after robberies, and Robin's smile reminded Phil that there was still good in the world. These were facts and there was no point in denying them. It would not make them any less true. Just make someone seem foolish for denying what should be undeniable. 

#writblr #tag games #tag game #duxwriting #dux writing #my writing #robinhoodwestern #amwriting #manuscript search tag #fantasy western #romance writing

[noxspost]

true north

“wait Vese—” she was cut off by him yelling running out of his room to the great hall “Letho get you fucking horse ready wake the other up Jaskeir is going after the bone Hydra!”

Yennifer followed with panic in her bones “what are taking about Vesemir?” asked a very annoyed and slightly panicked Viper as the others with him were walking up “there was a paper about the bone hydra back down the mountain when you came up right!?”

“yes?” he stated as he helped up Triss and Aiden looked at Vesemir “well Jaskier is sumac and he is going after it!” he was yelling now as he was trying to the armory which he was stopped by Letho looks him down and held him by his shoulders. “okay thanks for telling me that our friend is safe,” he narrowed his eyes “I need you to breath or you are going to pass out!” he was louder as Vesemir was making panicked sounds as the others came down. Ciri looked the most sleepy and in Geralt’s arms. Yen looked at Lambert who was mad but scared

“okay Vesemir sumac will be fine he has faced that beast a lot and I am sure he will get the ambrosia and nectar medicine cubes and vials,” he had Vesemir on the ground kneeing and Letho was going to the same “he is a tough bitch who has more beast hunting experience than us since he dealt with more than us. Breath Vesemir, you are okay and he is safe.” Geralt could smell the fear from his dad and he looked to his brothers who look to him. “yeah-h.” Vesemir gulped and nodded “I am so scared, he could be rusty and could die now.” He was hugged by the viper “listen there is a reason why he is named sumac for it is a poison and he is a demigod who parent is the god of madness.”

Then Coen spoke up “who are you talking about was there a man we didn’t was here?” Lambert looked at his friend with confused and disbelief “really we would know if that was the case.”

“well where is Jaskier and who is this Sumac?” asked Ciri and yen nodded Aiden spoke “oh he is a lynx Witcher.” Triss and Yen glazed at the cat and then Letho hums in agreement and then Eskel asked “is Jaskeir sumac the same sumac who taught us?” this makes Geralt and Lambert turned to their brother and then Geralt nods “yeah it can’t be Jaskeir is only 43? How can he be Sumac?”

This makes Vesemir laugh and then starting to cry “Geralt he cares for his skin and also he is older than me.”

He was held closer to the viper and then Yen asked “so we are just ignore the fact that he is a Bacchus child or Bacchus and he is going after a monster in winter and the pass was closed how did he get down there?”

Vesemir got up and walked up to the wall and felt for something on the wall and then his hand stopped and he pressed the stone now and it moved to the left showing a hole big for a good sized box “oh simple Lynx witchers go to hunt for coin more in winter since it is needed and pays more and they are built for the cold so the pass means nothing for Jaskier.” He grabbed the box and blew off the dust on the box and opened it once he put it on the table and they all gathered around the table and they saw the box and it held so much.

Yet they were drawn to the small trinket in the mess and it was made with care and it was a flat disc with a clear dome over the small thin sticks pointing to numbers the short and wider one was slower and the other was faster and thinner. There was a ticking sound as they saw gears and metal moving in a window inside the glass clear dome it was made of copper, gold and white stone.

It looked so pretty and care for. “what is that?” asked Triss who was trying to hold the object when Vesemir grabbed it before her and bark “don’t touch that! It is a gift from Jaskier he got this from one of the tinkering in his caravan of demigods and non-humans. He said it was a pocket watch to tell time.”

He gently held it up with both his hands and then Eskel looked at the back and saw the Engravings on the back and it said time just eats and eats till death comes saving the soul from its maw time does not heal wounds merely numb you to the pain but confrontation and self-growth heals the bones not time.

Ciri saw the engravings and asked “what’s with the engravings on the back?”

 Vesemir turned the thing round and went “I think one of the elders of his school had explained that people off the news the same time heals all wounds as a weak cop out and they’d explained that it merely numbs you to the wrongs and the hurt and the pain which makes sense he was also a child of Hecate a goddess of witchcraft and ghosts he’s a real cool dude from what I remember about him.”

Eskel nodded and then Lambert spoke “let’s go find Jaskier!” he yelled and then Letho looked at him and bark “no just no the pass is too covered and it cold in the morning. Let’s eat and gets some chores done and then we can go.” he got up and went to the kitchen with Aiden and Coen following.

Geralt sighed and spoke “well I think Jaskeir will be fine, he will get back. He has too much self-preservation for his own good.”

this caused Vesemir to burst out laughing which also caused yen to burst out laughing “no he doesn’t and he getting more coin and he will come back later.” the former teacher spoke “he doesn’t he got torture by firefucker. He doesn’t have much.”

Ciri nodded and then she looked at the boxes’ contents and you saw a piece of something shining she reached out for it grabbed it held it above her to see it in the light and it sparkled like a diamond but it was in the shape of a scale she turned over to look at the others and asked “what’s this?”

 Vesemir looked over sighed and said “that’s a hydra scale a hydra scale is actually a diamond compressed and a lot stronger than normal diamonds about roughly same as iron. you get that from bone hydras.” He explained.

yen then remarked “so that explains why you get to keep a dime in death do you kill such a monster after you’re given somewhere between 4000 coin and 15,000 coin.” This makes Lambert looked at Yen “why must it so costly?”

“because the bone hydra is more dangerous than a dragon since it is undead and has four heads next to the normal standard head each one has its own attacks and features I have seen some bear witchers dying to the Magma Spittle. When you weaken it enough the first head which you attacked two other type of the heads will go on the attack same when one third is left.” There was fear in Eskel’s voice who was looking at his brother.

“oh great…”

===

Well after Jaskier had killed the monster he was breathing heavy and his clothing had blood and gold staining. The gold made him looked gaudy and creepy, he was holding the now the bag of bones and diamonds of the monster. He was in the cave where the beast had taken the father.

There was some blood and he looked down at the freaking out man who was shaking and Jaskier smiles “hey I am sumac I was send by your daughter and I am no threat.” He knees down to seem safe and the man spoke “I am john and thanks.” He was careful to hold Jaskier’s hand and then they walked out to daffodil. “don’t worry I will be fine sir I just worried for you.” Jaskeir spoke when saw the worry in John’s eyes.

 Jaskeir smiled at him who was helping him carry the proof and when they got to daffodil Jaskier was quick to the medic supplies and he gave himself his ambrosia meds and then turned to John and went “okay so I am going to clean the wounds and put cool water on the burns on your arms.” He washed the burns in cool running water and then used the rest to the clean off the blood and then wrapped up the wounds “thank you Sumac.” He nodded and placed john on daffodil who snorted and Jaskier looked at him “play nice daffodil.”

Once he was healed by the ambrosia meds he got on the ram and then they were off to the town and back to his family. there was much Excitement and the little girl gladly was rewarding him with compliments and words.

===

After about 6 hours of worrying since the pass was too frozen they were in the training yard near the stables when the witchers smell this faint scent of grapes and the sound of a match being lit they turned to where the sound came from and they for moment thought it was just Yen and Triss doing something.

It wasn’t but only Jaskeir dressed in warm clothing on a ram the size of his horse and Jaskier covered in gold and blood with some being from his own body.

His face was bruised and had some blood on his face near his mouth and nose.

There was purple fire behind Jaskier which swiftly was gone. He was on a ram which was grey and white and had a saddle was made of dark leather and near the back was the saddle bags which stored a lot of Jaskeir things. It also was on top of a lynx skin and the head near to the tail and there was a holding for his axe and the other side was a piece of leather made for holding some scrolls, arrows and a crossbow.

there was also some new things like some daggers, an ice spike and some feathers and a stone.

“oh okay I haven’t done that in years.” he cough a bit and wiped away some spit he was holding the reins to his companion. He looked like a Witcher. Yennifer was right there as Jaskier got off the animal “what the fuck don’t you know that was dumb we couldn’t do shit.”

He looked at her and laughed “you could do shit yen.” The sound of coin came from his bag which was on his animal which he undid and smiled as Yen was spitting out words which made no sense as Geralt spoke “why Jaskier just why you could have died!”

Eskel had stopped training with Ciri who was cheering with Jaskier’s return as the ram belting out a cry of distress which made the other stop thanks to Letho call out “leave the poor demigod alone he just got back.” He was soon in the arms of Jaskeir in a hug which lifted him off the ground.

“Hello again dears.” Jaskeir said as daffodil was walking to Letho and Vesemir waiting near the doors. “You still are very strong Sumac. I missed these hugs.” He hugged back and lifted Jaskeir off the ground.

Vesemir went to check Jaskeir when he was let go “I hope you had Nectar and Ambrosia meds right? And did you get the money you are going to get?” Lambert and Coen looked at Jaskier’s outfit which was like a bear’s but also a wolf.

“Yes, Vesemir I did I got about half of it and then the big diamond and the rest when I got back.” He turned to Lambert and Coen who swiftly asked “so you do contacts in winter?”

“Yeah, it is fun and reminds me of home.” Then Eskel asked, “what was fire and you getting back?” he got a confused looked from Ciri who nodded with Eskel’s statement and Yen nodded too and asked, “yeah why?”

“oh right I forgot to tell Geralt and Yen. I am a demigod to the god Bacchus.” He smiles “which one of the powers I have is teleporting in a burst of purple fire and it followed by a faint scent of grapes. It drains me more than the other powers, so I have to be careful.”

“Okay all the powers drain you?” asked Eskel and then Jaskier smiles "yeah so i don't try to use too much. please be careful around Daffodil he isn't used to teleportation because we haven't done it in a while." he said as they were going to the stables to untacked the ram and put him back in the stables.

"I thought your horse's name was Pegasus?" spoke Aiden Jaskeir turn to him "of course it does that's his middle name it's also his code name anyway what's for food?" as they get back to the doors they see Letho just glaring at Jaskier "fucker." Letho spoke to Jaskier before getting a kiss on the back of the hand from Jaskier "i know, we will have money for spring and there is a reason why i go out during winter."

Geralt sighed and Eskel smiles and making a aww sound which get Coen to Jab him in the side with his elbow. which get Lambert to laugh. "oh please. calm down you two." spoke Vesemir as Triss then spoke "well i was thinking some stew and some rolls."

this makes Jaskeir smile She told smile as warm as the sun and he goes "I remember that was a common staple on the caravan travels really spoke one of the other witchers yeah we called it monsters too because we often used the meat and organs from some types of creatures in our stew combining with shrimp and cow or pig the rolls often had a meat or vegetable inside and cooked hard on the outside but be very chewy and doughy on the inside so we called them turtle rolls because they were often shaped like a turtle as well."

he explained as they went inside then Aiden asked, "so we know somewhat about the schools on this side of the continent what are some notable trials for your school?" everyone looked at the cat Witcher confused and a little bit scared.

they all sighed  when their friend explained "well there is the trial of the iceberg the trial of the night escape and the trial of Half Moon half Moon was testing your abilities with everything to do with an apothecary," he explained they walked to the Great Hall they were intently listening "the trial of the night escape was how to survive in... it's been a while since I've had that trial but most the time it was going on a quest for a powerful being and how to escape most of time we did at night the trial of the iceberg was a lot like the trial of the grass is for you guys but ours is much worse or equally as worse depending how you see it that's all I'm going to say."

he was sitting down as he was carrying the bag with the Reward but also a couple other things most of the time the items that he was putting on the table were from his own pouches and bags around his waist and hips thanks to his belts he looked tired in a way they saw a couple other scars specifically one that was peeking out on his neck. It looked like an ice burn.

They see his cloak which around the collar area where the wolf fur was had animal and human skulls on it but the rest of the cloak was made of bear hide the outside had the bear fur and the inside was while the inside of the bear fur it looked terrifying when Yennifer had asked what's with the human skulls?"

Eskel nodded and then Jaskier turned his head and spoke "simple they're from mages who tried to kill me don't worry I didn't kill them too brutally only after they died I cut off their heads ripped off their skin, hair and eyeballs only having their skulls remaining fix the skulls so they don't leak everywhere," they all were Shocked and uncomfortable looking at him as if he was dangerous except for Vesemir and Letho. "I buried their hearts as a sign of respect have acknowledging the life that I have taken I do that with beasts that I kill. i am not completely heartless."

Coen then asked "why burying the heart? it sounds like you leave the rest of the body out for the wild to take."

the  Witcher reaches down to his water skin drinks it and thinks for a moment obviously still sitting down but everyone waited with faded breath Geralt specifically same with his surprise child Ciri who was watching patiently "well in my school specifically," Jaskier states his tone now turning serious "we learn that no matter what you do for coin may that be assassinating Or doing anything that involves taking a life you're supposed to bury their heart in the ground decent way down you're supposed to wait 10 minute is the common number, then you walk on it symbolizes you understanding the life you have taken we did that with everyone May they be really terrible May they be not but with a really terrible people and the people we just don't like we're very passive aggressive about it well we do the bare minimum by digging a shallow grave and lightly covering up with our heart and then when you leave the elements and the animals to deal with it." 

he smiles "our teachers and elders were very strict about it and Chiron would take a bottle of white gull a cloth and the lights the cloth which is half way in the bottle and throw it on the ground near us when training when We're disrespecting the dead because in In the Lynx School there was an abundance of non-humans demigods specifically who had ties to all the different underworlds not just the Slavic or Greek underworlds and we don't like accidentally piss off the wrong underworld deity."

he chuckles "i never got it but Leo taught me the alcohol bomb after he got the treatment as well." then Aiden sits down next to him as Triss and Yen were off to make food. Ciri asked Jaskeir "what is the trial of the Iceberg?"

Geralt and then Eskel went "yeah what is it? it sounds intriguing." Jaskeir rubbed his chin a little bit and rubbed his mouth from the excess water that he drank and he said It is a trial that involves you being on an iceberg at 10:30 35 ish at night during winter you brought a thick bed mat a thick blanket a slow flower lantern which does not burn like normal fire you're supposed to survive till 2:00 AM in the morning and then they come to you with a nice pike a very thick and long rope two nails that are twice as long as the ice Pike and a hammer and you're supposed to climb up to halfway up the iceberg," he saw the disbelieving looks from Lambert before he went on to explain how tall the icebergs usually were "and by the way these things are way taller than you think so the above ground is tall and just seems to get halfway up there and you're supposed to do that before sunrise usually people if they survive the crime get up there around 4:00 AM and they're supposed to climb it down without breaking their chunks on the way down and they're supposed to do that before 6:00 AM we only lose like 6 students every two years to that trial before the school went under heavy revision we lost more." 

And they all knew how I got cold how cold it got during the night it was terrifying they were all stunned then Vesemir walked over holding Jaskier's pocket watch "thanks i thought i told you that was your now?" Vesemir smiles and then put it around his neck "thanks also i would check on Letho he is speaking in that one tongue of elder what is it called?" they all listen to the sound of someone speaking in another tongue it was really yelling but quieter.

"oh my goodness he is speaking and oh my goodness he is speaking in Spanish again oh no. yeah i am on it." Jaskier takes off his cloak and then his boots and walks back into the kitchen where Triss is talking "yeah i don't know what he is saying help Yen."

"well i don’t--" she was quiet when Jaskeir was yelling in the same language "¿¡Te callarás por el amor de los dioses!? ¿Por qué estás gritando?" this makes Letho glare and then place down the dish and points to it "Jodieron el guiso poniendo primero la carne del conejo y sin esperar a que hirviera el agua y el aceite así me enseñaste." he had stopped yelling.

Jaskeir spoke "yeah but it is still going to work Even though the vegetables and the seasonings supposed to go in first but let them do it and stop yelling."

and then he walked straight back out and Letho turned to both women and apologized obviously explaining that he had been taught how to make this specific stew a couple other times and usually the vegetables and seasoning oil and water goes in first then the meat. they nodded and understanding. Letho was following Jaskeir when Letho picked up Jaskeir and So my you've gotten heavier."

 he turned Jaskeir's body to face him Jaskier looked down at him slightly and said of course I have I've been eating healthier and more gotta make sure that I stay Insulated he joked as he leaned closer to nuzzled his nose with his own which got Letho to kiss him on the nose a couple times "I missed you." he said sweetly.

Jaskier smiles. as he heard Ciri asking Vesemir about how he knew Jaskier and why his Witcher name was Sumac "do you want to sing True north?" asked Vesemir when they both got back.

"sure." he smiles as he got his Lute and then Letho sat down next to the cloak and then resting his bones. as Jaskier was singing and Eskel was happy to hear this for he had only heard his father Vesemir singing the tone.

"They say it's a cold place Icy and grey With a wind that cuts through Marrow and bone I've heard the earth cracks open wide Before your eyes and might." he sang as he was Strumming along on his loot as lethal provided the drums by tapping his foot to the rhythm.

"Swallow you whole They say you can get lost for days In landscapes of big emotions In the endless night when the sun doesn't care To crawl out of bed behind the oceans." he sang low and soft but they were Intrigued to listen all their eyes including the two mages that were making dinner we're all listening and had their eyes on him as he was enjoying preforming for his family in the winter.

"We never learned to use a compass We never learned to read these maps We always yearned for far-off kingdoms We never found a straight way back And it's a miracle A miracle." his voice was higher now as His magic which was showing small coffee cup size spectacles of what he was talking about, and they were seeing on how they travel not relying on compasses maps or anything like that but pure instinct in far off kingdoms.

"We found true north True north." he sang with Letho as they saw the moose and siren hunts same with the trials of flesh and bone. they saw the demigod wars mixing with Elven wars. they were seeing the caravan which would put the cat school to shame.

"They say it's an old place With ancient tales Of violence and war Passion and soul But I've seen the West Bleed into the East." they saw the monster hunts and then the bone hydra hunts and such they were amazed as they saw the Place called Coldora which was filled with wars, blood and death yet life hidden in snow and winds.

"Like a slow breeze Blowing ripples of hope And I know I could get lost for life Inside these stories I've heard 'Cause it all just shows that what we know Is just the tip, the tip, the tip of the iceberg." then they see the trial of the iceberg. he was smiling as they see eyes around his head which looked around and Ciri was laughing as they saw the witchers were chasing around each other’s.

"We never learned to use a compass We never learned to read these maps We always yearned for far-off countries We never found a straight way back And it's a miracle A miracle We found true north True north." then he smiles as he ends his singing and then Aiden asked "so how bad is being a lynx?"

Jaskeir sits and then drinks some more from his water skin and then he laughed "a lot more than you think for demigods leave a scent behind demigods often leave a strong scent for monsters and beasts and creatures to find them oh woo," he chuckles as he drinks more "also the ones that don't have the sin but still are demigods their souls are tracked by their monsters relating to their pantheons challenge yourselves lucky at least you ain't constantly being hunted by creatures and beasts trust me it's much worse than you think."

they nodded and the Yen asked "is it worth it?"

"yeah of course you just have to more vigilant when it comes to where monsters can be commonly found so a lot of demigods have this ability hard wired into their genetics when they're born that makes them vigilant and have easier time fighting so we more prepared for battle but at least all of us can walk on the snow only and only sink two inches to three inches into the snow which is very useful."

"really any stories?" asked Vesemir and Jaskier laughs "yeah there is this game called capture the flag where all the demigods who share the same godly parent or immortal parent team up with others and then they go up Popular team which is made up of different groups of demagogues that share the same godly or immortal parents like we had Demeter Kids Apollo kids Ares kids and one team and then we got Leshy kids hades and Poseidon kids on a other team and then we fight to take the other team's flag.

But what are my favorite stories is about the one time Perseus the second and I got in a fight he couldn't leave the infirmary for weeks because I actually caused him to go mad because he was saying some really nasty things about me and my family and they can fund the fact that my godly parent was a washed up god his quote not mine I got really mad I punched him in the face and then I caused him to go mad okay unconscious with nightmares for about a week because we had to go get Poux from camp aka the other school building we have."

He was laughing "but there's also another time where Zeus Jupiter and Hera Juno all got cursed out by Letho we were in one of the camps and Vesemir was hiding in the corner panicked behind me as Zeus phase got more and more twisted as if he sucked three-week-old lemons it was so funny we finally got a slight cut to the head as the four gods went away after being humiliated."

Letho was laughing and then spoke "right there was the one time All three of us got in a town fight and Vesemir looked like he just walked out of a war demigod kids blood fight fest. there was so much blood everywhere and you were laughing like a maniac." the others were stun as they were about to eat when they heard these stories and Yen was trying to cover Ciri's ears.

and then Vesemir spoke "ohh my goodness I missed I missed those days well we didn't have to worry about leading our respective schools we could just be absolutely chaotic but we did have to hide it occasionally because of the other masters of the schools holy crap they never liked you they absolutely hated you."

he slapped his knee as they were laughing Vesemir accepted some food from one of the mages and said "of course I couldn't have my gremlin ears I had to be mature and I had to be Mature before i could raise those four." then  Jaskeir laughed and then spoke "remember when i was on a quest for Celtic goddess and it landed me here and then I crashed through the ceiling that was a very confusing time because me and Letho were running after a chicken that just was been mutated really badly and it had the item we wanted but we had to go get it for like a deity who had another item we needed for the Celtic deity we terrified so many young butchers in training ohh I didn't explain to them but no we did not just mutate this chicken to chase it around the place ohh my goodness and some visiting bear witchers we even screaming like young girls and it wasn't even a spider."

the three nodded as the others were quiet and Lambert was just standing there holding his cup of white gold and it plate of food stunned because of what he just heard "wait remember that bathhouse quest oh was so uncomfortable so many nymphs so few missed it would be really useful to just like block that out of my memory why did you have to drag us along on that quest?"

"I told you guys not to follow me interjected Jaskier "but of course you did because you guys are like no you can't go on a super dangerous quest for Poseidon we have to come with you and they got traumatized we had to fight against a yokai it was terrifying so weird ohh the smell of that guy was disgusting." the Geralt turned to the bard and asked "do you get paid for the quests?"

"well Yeah but we didn't get paid for the requests besides having our own lives till like 500 years ago yeah." the Grimace really told the rest what and why that was really sad till: "really why?" asked Coen "because the gods and immortal beings giving us those quests and give us money or payment that actually was worth crap till 500 years ago because of Percy Jackson and sally Jackson who is the grandmaster of the school."

they nodded and then Triss spoke "well i am glad you guys are getting paid." she got smiles from Jaskier who went to the food and ate. he swore he saw a Wolf Witcher smiling waving in the window and Jaskier nodded to the window. the smell of family was thick and welcomed.

#my fanfiction #the witcher netflix #jaskier #letho of gulet #my au #angst

[buckyismybicycle]

For FULL Masterlist, click here. Sam/Bucky under the cut: 

“ride” (*explicit, 1k words [AO3 Link]): “Don’t stop,” Bucky demands, his eyes half-lidded, pulling Sam closer and riled up just the way Sam wanted. “Now ride.”

“never asked anyone to save me, but if it’s you, i’ll take it” (*explicit, 5k words [AO3 Link]): Bucky is an Alpha on the brink of going feral, denying himself his body’s needs. Steve is someone who only just got his best friend back and can’t bear to lose him to this, but can’t help him being an Alpha himself. Sam is an Omega that could save him, but can he?

“Mercy, Mercy” (*explicit, 25k words [AO3 LINK]): Three-part series of their developing relationship with lots of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff and smut.

“Mission Report” (Teen/Mature, 40k words, spy AU):  A story of adventure, badassery, and building trust.

“two sides of the same coin” (*explicit, 12k words [AO3 LINK]): Zemo’s proposal to Selby takes a turn for the unexpected, and Sam has to watch Bucky “stay in character” and by that, he means he has to watch Bucky basically fuck or die.

“the 107th (Fresh Plum Cake)” (teen, 5k words [AO3 Link]):  He is simply James Buchanan Barnes, the man that Sam’s slowly fallen in love with, and maybe in that process, became blinded to the fact that Bucky had fallen in love with him too.

“bargaining chip” (mature, 3/3 chapters [AO3 Link]):  Someone wants the Winter Soldier back, in ways that neither of them could expect.

“butterfly, butterfly” SERIES (*explicit, 12.5k words [AO3 Link]):  Bucky Barnes x Joaquin Torres x Sam Wilson; Joaquin can do it - he can prove himself on this mission! Except, his horniness distracts him and now Bucky and Sam have to save him. Except, he didn’t need saving. He needed to be dicked down.

“White Wolf Series” (teen to *explicit, 25k words [AO3 LINK]): Four-part series of Bucky, who can actually turn into a wolf. Mostly fluff, some slight angst/comfort and a sprinkle of smut.

“I’ve been looking / meet you under the mistletoe” (Teen, 7k words [AO3 LINK]): Part 1: Roommate AU - It’s an ongoing thing in their group that Bucky and Sam are polar opposite ends and everyone got sandwiched between them. But maybe, their friends have got it wrong. Part 2: Their first Christmas together!

“yeah I’m free, free fallin’ now” (teen, 2k words, requested [AO3 LINK]): Bucky jumps (falls) off a building and Sam goes to catch him (and yell at him). Bucky reminds Sam he jumped from a plane - cue Sam realizing he might’ve showed his Bucky his hand, but Bucky takes it surprisingly (not to us, just to Sam) well.

“running through the shadows” (mature, 3k words [AO3 LINK]): inspired by Fleetwood Mac’s “The Chain”

“from the Titanic to the Ever Given” (teen, 1.5k words, crack only [AO3 LINK]): their friends are so done with their shit.

“5 times Sam learns of Bucky’s coping outlets + 1 time he joins” (*explicit, 5k words, threesome [AO3 LINK]): Bucky tries various things to help with his recovery, Sam discovers each one.

“this Christmas, I’ll give you my heart” (teen, 6.5 words, Christmas fluff [AO3 Link]):  Bucky and Sam draw each other’s names for Secret Santa.

“just temporary bliss” (teen, 700 words [AO3 Link]): Being forced to share a bed on a mission opens Pandora’s Box for Bucky.

“can’t do this without you” (Teen, 550 words [AO3 Link]): “I’m so sorry,” Sam chokes out.  “Yeah, me too,” Bucky murmurs softly.

#sambucky #winterfalcon #onlysambucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x sam wilson #sam wilson x bucky barnes #sam wilson fanfiction #winterfalcon fanfic #sambucky fanfic #masterlist #buckyismybicycle

[nammikisulora]

Domestic

For @mechtober2022's 28th daily prompt, Family/Domestic, Tim and Jonny take some extreme measures to save their wilting rose bushes. This is set during the events of my Hearteyes fake married shenanigans fic Fatally Domestic, but can be read alone. All necessary context is that Tim and Jonny have been sentenced to spend a year living a completely normal life on a planet, away from the rest of the Mechs.

CW for canon-typical violence and casual temporary murder, all lightheartedly depicted.

On AO3 here, as well as below the cut.

---

“Flip a coin, or rock, paper, scissors? You can’t do a gun this time, then you’re just disq-”

“Ugh, fine, flip a coin, then!” Jonny digs around in his pocket until he finds one, and tosses it to Tim.

“Ta. Heads – no, wait, um, where’s this from? The City?”

Jonny shrugs. “Think so. I’m brains.”

“Haha, very funny. Okay, here goes…”

Jonny loses. He grumbles a little just for the sake of it, but he doesn’t actually mind, not really. Drastic measures are evidently required to save their wilting rose bushes, and he knows for a fact that his blood is an excellent fertiliser. At least going by how Brian’s roses always thrive.

“Ready?” Tim asks, shutting the bathroom door behind him.

“Fuck yeah”, Jonny says, pulls his t-shirt over his head and tosses it aside. Tim grins, and the light glints off the blade of the knife in his hand.

“So, er, how are we doing this? This was the largest funnel I found…”

“Hm.” It is kind of small, Jonny has to admit. “Eh, it’ll do.”

He takes the funnel and inserts the bottom of it into the plastic jug, then climbs into the bathtub, setting down the jug in front of him. Tim stands absolutely still, regarding him intently, as if Jonny is an interesting problem to solve. He can’t help an expectant shiver under that intense metal gaze.

Then Tim steps closer and takes a steady hold of his hair, forcing his head down until he’s bent over the jug. The knife is cold against his throat. Jonny swallows, the ticking of his heart loud in his ears.

“Okay, here we go”, Tim murmurs, and cuts.

-

The first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is the blood. The second one is Tim’s face looming over him, blood spattered and grumpy.

“Why the fuck did you have to start thrashing like that?” he snaps, which Jonny feels is rather unfair under the circumstances. He clears his throat a few times, hoping his vocal chords have finished their healing process before he tries to speak.

“You should’ve held on harder”, he croaks, "I was a bit distracted bleeding out."

Tim huffs and glares at him, but extends his arm to help Jonny sit up, and steadies him until the worst bout of dizziness has passed. The jug is only half full, and the bathroom's walls and floor are sprayed with gore. It’s going to be a bitch to clean up, there’s no way around that.

“So what do you say”, Tim says, interrupting his train of thought, “gardening or cleanup first?”

“Since it is my blood, I could do the gardening and you could do clea-”

“Yeah, that’s not fucking happening. Tell you what, I’ll grab the bleach while you wash off, then we’ll let it soak while we do the roses, before we start scrubbing this place clean. Okay?”

“Ugh, fine. I’m still the one who gets to dispense our precious fertiliser, ex owner’s dibs!”

“... right. Sure. Be right back.”

#mechtober 2022 #the mechanisms fic

[sserkets]

As the novel continued, Kanaya would train John. She would be hard and strict, but John develops quickly. Roxy to attempt to train Dave. She is fun and nice, but getting no where. They would then invite Karkat, a friend of Kanaya’s to assist Dave.

“We can invite him over to assust you. Karkat doesn’t get out much, shuts himself off. I can understand why though. His creator put a ring though his tongue and hooked it to his lip and teeth. He can hardly speak,” Kanaya told him.

“And no one thought to unhook him?” Dave’s eyebrows rose.

“Yes. But it has a hex on it similar to Roxy’s coin toss coin, other Magic folk can’t touch it,” Kanaya retorted.

“We’re all out of non-magic folk then,” Dirk replied. “Not since John became full blooded poltergeist and Dave got his gift.”

“Not thinking hard enough,” Kanaya said, her eyebrows raising. “You have a human.”

“We don’t,” Dirk disagreed, “we can’t just-“

“John’s Dad,” Rose blurted.

Kanaya smiled. “Bingo.”

From here, they would call John’s dad and summon Karkat. Karkat would be described with top and bottom snake bites, rings where the ribbons attach. Sharp teeth, red eyes, rat tail, made like john, 50 years old very new but has a handle on his powers.

“I am not a dentist.” Jack sucked in a breath. Karkat opened his mouth and judging by his expression, Jack felt pity. The demon didn’t look much older than John.

When the stranger opened his mouth his bindings were evident. Thick ribbons encribed with writing in the witch language down the center of them tied off to a ring that pierced the top of his tongue. They were connected to his top set of snake bites, tied in a crude knot that had to be uncomfortable when he closed his mouth. In the bottom there was a similar set up, except with the ring though the bottom side of his tongue. John didn’t notice how pointed his teeth were until after the fact.

“Alright, now. I’m going to cut them off,” Jack explained carefully. “I promise not to nick you.”

Karkat rolled his eyes, his arms rising to fold in front of his chest. He was litterally regaining his ability to speak and he was annoyed about it?

Roxy handed Jack the scissors, still glowing faintly with her intent. He was careful to maneuver them in to the demons gaping maw. The first cut came with an audible snip. Jack left enough room to untie the ribbon from the rings as well, moving to the other side to sever the ribbon completely. Jack pulled it out carefully with his fingers, laying it on the table as he moved to the bottom.

John happened to glance down, glancing at the saliva soaked cotton just in time to watch the writing fade.

Karkat ribbed his jaw, gently at first and then harder. Slowly, he looked up at Jack, who was still staring bewildered at him. He heaved a heavy sigh, and then spoke.

“Thank you,” He rasped, voice thick and hard from disuse.

“But as for the rest of you!” His voice rose an octave. “What the actual fuck is this!”

“That’s why his mouth was tied shut,” Dirk deadpanned.

Rest would be confused. Kanaya would not look surprised.

“Kanaya what the fuck is going on here! What the hell kind if messed up merry go round are we riding here? I’m gonna puke metaphorically and literally. Who’s the fucking Share? Who’s the whelp that stinks like him? They reek like Vriska. And who the fuck are all these shitstain witches?

“The Share is called John,” Kanaya clipped. “He killed Vriska and he’s taking her spot it seems. I suggest you get acquainted. This is the Strider coven. They’re friends.”

“It’s uh. Nice to meet you?” John tried. “This is my dad by the way.”

“Hello,” Jack mumbled, taking a few steps back.

“You sorry bastard,” Karkat scowled. “Nobody deserves to have to take after Vriska. She’s basically ruined your life I bet.”

“Yeah. Basically,” John agreed.

#incantation

[lambden]

1 or/and 22, geraskier? <33

"I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice." T, 1.4K, no warnings Drabble list!

They can’t afford the steep cost of cider and the local brews are so terrible that they’d be better off drinking drowner piss. Jaskier, taking a cue from his days as a careless and carefree young noble, sneaks into the kitchen of the town’s brothel so as to raid their stock of cheap, sour white cooking wine. He tucks a bottle into the flowy fabric of his sleeve and on his way out, bows politely to the madam. Her thin eyebrows rise quickly but she does not follow him into the street.

Jaskier finds his companion in no time and easily falls into step with Geralt, who looks about as pleased to see Jaskier exiting a brothel as could be expected. But then the witcher’s pretty nose flares as he sniffs the air and by extension, Jaskier, and a strange light enters his eyes. “Unproductive day?”

“I’d hardly say so,” Jaskier preens, revealing the bottle with a flourish and presenting it to the witcher. Geralt takes it, immediately rolling the wine in his palm to read the label like the asshole he is. “That’s hardly vintage— it’s likely gone off, actually, but seeing as we’re in the middle of nowhere it might be the best we can get. You looked like you needed to cut loose!”

Geralt, in fact, still looks like he needs to cut loose. He’s stiff as a board as he uncorks the wine, and although the pale and sharp odour sends a twitch through his features, he takes a luxuriantly long sip. Jaskier watches, smiling distractedly, and when Geralt has his fill he wipes his mouth dry on his glove before passing the bottle.

The wine is a poor replacement for what they really want, which in Jaskier’s case is a specific vintage that they served in Cintra. That dry and sweet taste is nowhere to be found in this bottle of near-poison, but it’s free (well, stolen) and free things always taste better. He gulps down the alcohol, eyelids fluttering as he does.

When he finishes, gasping silently and sighing as his throat bobs, Jaskier opens his eyes to find Geralt watching him. The witcher’s pupils are blown wide and his lips are wet; he must just have bitten them. He watches Jaskier for far, far too long a moment; he must not even realize he’s staring.

“Shit wine,” Jaskier comments, amused and thrilled, and Geralt turns to glance away as though nothing ever happened.

-

“If I ever suggest anything this stupid again,” whines Jaskier, stars pricking in the corners of his eyes every time a new wave of soreness passes through him, “then you must shoot me right between the eyes with your crossbow. In fact, do it right now so as to end my misery! I’ll give you every last coin in my purse.”

“Witchers don’t take contracts on humans,” Geralt recites, sounding far too entertained by this for Jaskier’s liking. The witcher is stretched out on his bedroll, looking comfortable as fuck. The rough day of travel hasn’t impacted him at all, thanks to the expensive Nilfgaardian saddle he’s got on his trusty fucking steed. “Besides, didn’t you say you were a good rider?”

“Not bareback,” he grouses. “And yes, I hear the innuendo, very clever, Geralt. Shoot me.”

His companion hums infuriatingly and draws no weapon, leaving Jaskier to his agony. With tremendous effort he wiggles out of his trousers, kicking them and his stockings across the campground without watching where they land. They could land in the fire for all he cares; he’s so horribly chafed that he doesn’t think he’ll be able to wear pants for at least a week without wincing.

Jaskier uncorks the small bottle of peppermint oil that he usually uses after bathing and slathers it over his palms and between his fingers. Then, too sore to feel shame, he reaches right for his poor reddened thighs and massages the oil into the skin there. The resulting groan is entirely involuntary. He doesn’t even care how he sounds, too busy working the oil into the muscles of each leg and letting his body finally, finally relax.

When his knuckle digs into a particularly sore spot high on his thigh Jaskier keens, gasping quietly and bending forward over his lap. In the very next instant Geralt jumps to his feet, and Jaskier frowns. He would fear an oncoming attack if not for how Geralt’s hands are tightly pinned to his sides— a distinctly unwitchery pose. Without pulling his fingers away from his surely bruised thighs, Jaskier asks, “Something the matter?”

“I need to collect potion ingredients,” Geralt utters, sounding the most rehearsed that Jaskier has ever heard him. He looks back over his shoulder and his gaze dips down to the bard’s bare legs, as well as his slick fingers working between his thick, rosy thighs. 

Jaskier has the unique, first-hand experience of watching a witcher choke on their own spit. He doesn’t stop massaging his sore legs, but he does lift his head to properly stare back at Geralt, who has yet to pick up his jaw from where he dropped it. “Pity. You could have helped me with some of the hard-to-reach spots.”

“We need more firewood,” Geralt barks, nearly before Jaskier is done speaking. He storms off, leaving Jaskier to massage his legs on his own and wonder exactly how they’ve gotten themselves into this delightful mess.

-

“Go to sleep, Jaskier.”

“I can’t. I’m composing.”

This is the sort of composition that his old instructors would have raked him over the coals for indulging. The window is too small and the room too dark, so even if he wanted to write something, he’d need to light a candle and locate some paper and ink.

Instead, he and his companion lie side by side on the narrow mattress without touching. The sounds of revelry from downstairs have not yet subsided, but neither witcher nor bard is in a social mood. “Today wasn’t exactly the stuff of legend,” Geralt grunts.

Perhaps his attempt at providing some levity for their awful night, but Jaskier is too riled up to appreciate it. “Untrue,” he seethes. “There is poetry to be found in everything, even the most awful, excruciating days spent dealing with close-minded, small-brained bigots.”

“You can write your poetry tomorrow. Sleep.”

“What’s a good rhyme for stupid bastard prick?”

For nearly half a beat Geralt considers it. Then he remembers himself, grumbling in the usual churlish tone he adopts when he doesn’t want Jaskier to press things, “People get scared for their families, their homes. They’re afraid of what they don’t understand; that’s all.”

Jaskier, unfortunately, has never been very good at not pressing things. “Right, fine, but how does him being an utter dickhead help protect his family? He had no idea what he was talking about anyway! You’re not a monster!”

“Some of—”

“Don’t even start, I cannot go through this again—”

“Some of their hatred is based in fear, or in fact,” mumbles Geralt, as patiently as he might explain it to a child. 

Jaskier bristles despite himself. “Right. Well. I’m not contesting your fertility, but that wasn’t what he meant either. He described you like a creature incapable of desire of feeling.”

The witcher just says, “Not too far off.”

They’ve repaved the same path of this argument so many times that the road is smooth, and where once Jaskier’s heart stung at the idea that Geralt could ever doubt himself in such a way, now he just feels a sort of bitter warmth. He huffs, nearly amused. “Geralt, I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I won’t notice. You’re not incapable.”

There is no motion or movement in the darkness between them, not even when Jaskier turns to strain his eyes and stare. Geralt lies completely still on the far side of the bed— it hadn’t seemed far until the pair of them stopped talking, and now there might as well be an ocean between them. Jaskier suddenly fears that he might have fucked everything up by addressing the unaddressed and pulling their bond into the light for both of them to consider. He fears, too, that if he falls asleep now, the witcher will sneak away in the night and Jaskier won’t see him until next season.

Finally, Geralt moves. He doesn’t climb out of bed, instead shifting closer on the mattress. It takes very little effort at all for him to pull Jaskier into his arms, and it takes even less for Jaskier to curl into him, heart pounding for a different reason than it was a minute ago. Geralt doesn’t say a word but Jaskier somehow knows he’s smiling, and a missing piece of their puzzle slides into place.

#geraskier fic #geraskier #my writing #anonymous #drabble meme #cannot by rights call this a drabble OOPS #i had a lot of fun with this one though!!! i care them!!! #asks

[yamagucji]

Embarrassing moments

warnings. just for shits n giggles, 14+ readers preferably, mentions of vomit, poop, choking, etc.

HINATA was extremely constipated and needed to use the bathroom quick. but there’s a long line to the mens bathroom (what’s the occasion anyway??) and he’s standing all the way at the back. poor hinata felt a fart coming so he just couldn’t... hold it in. mans SHARTED. shitted and farted at the same time. it stunk so bad that the guys in front of him said, “damn, you need the toilet more than me,” and let him cut in line.

USHIJIMA and tendou stopped to pet this dog during their walk. tendou’s conversing with the owner while toshi’s petting the dog. dog likes it, it’s all good. until... it got bored and decided that toshi’s butt smelled good. dog just wouldn’t stop sniffing his ass. “please, stop smelling me,” toshi says with desperation, which now catches the others’ attention. the owner has to pry their dog away from toshi’s ass cheeks, please. the awkward tension kinda dies down until tendou utters, “so, what’s your secret? what product are you using?”

YAMAGUCHI drank water in the middle of silent class reading. this boy started choking— and i mean choking on his water. you can hear his muffled coughs in the distance and when you turn around to look at him, his face is all red and his cheeks are puffy. none of his classmates say anything but you can practically feel second-hand embarrassment oozing around. the assistant teacher even has the audacity to say, “drink some water.”

KENMA’s calling this one his last try. he sticks his remaining coins into the slot and tries to get the brand new nintendo box thats in the machine. mf has been going at this for over twenty minutes now. his pouch is empty and there’s a crowd of kids waiting for him. no miracle happens in his last try (shit got stuck!!) so he has to move away only to watch in horror— as the kid after him manages to get it. you’re gonna have to hold kenma down before he hunts that kid with every bit of his soul.

DAICHI had a fat one coming in, that’s for sure. thought it was a free real estate just because everyone else in the camp seemed asleep. so he let that monster fart come out (even partly stuck out his thigh for better airway). whole team was awake in a matter of seconds. nishinoya’s jumped off his sleeping bag and asking everyone if they heard that “loud bang.” tanaka’s over here sniffing around because he knows that no one has got some kind of bomb that stinks.

SAKUSA’s not gonna admit to this one. but one time he opened a bathroom stall (it was unlocked) only to find that it was occupied. there are no words to accurately describe just how horried the sight was. sitting on the toilet was a man taking a shit, with his dick on full boner mode, staring back at sakusa. they only made eye contact for just 2 seconds but sakusa’s seen enough. he’s heard enough too, when said stranger asked him, “you wanna join me?”

ASAHI projectile vomited at the theaters. you should’ve known it was a bad idea to take him out to dinner before going to watch a scary movie. man had no courage to tell you he had an upset stomach nor tell you he’s not a fan of horror. it’s twenty minutes into the movie and he’s poking your arm— but you don’t notice because you’re too engrossed. another twenty minutes, and a jumpscare comes on. man beside you vomits like there’s no tomorrow. ya’ll spend the rest of the movie secretly trying to clean his throw-up.

TENDOU was watching anime in his dorm peacefully. until... the whole shiratorizawa team opened the door just in time for the show to switch up to an inappropriate scene. out of all the times they could’ve walked in, they really had to come when 2d clown man was moaning and fighting a kid? tendou scrambled to close his laptop but now he’s just staring back at his teammates; silent, except for the fact that his show is still playing and you can still hearing moaning in the background.

TSUKISHIMA turned his house upside down and still couldn’t find his glasses, nor his extra pair. he was about to leave bare eyed until his mom caught him and forced him to wear his sports glasses. yeah, the one with the whole strap and everything. mans looked like a fool coming to school with it on. people who didn’t know it was his sports glasses mistook it for swimming goggles. he’s so utterly humiliated now, he can’t even bite back when hinata or kageyama says something.

GOSHIKI... i don’t even know what to tell you. who let this kid go further into the lake by himself? it’s all fun and games for everyone until you hear an ear-defeaning shriek by your one and only goshiki. he’s yelling out, “help me! please! help!!” the lifeguards start kicking in and everyone’s trying to make way. is he drowning? is there something there? no for god’s sake. you find out he just made it 5 ft deep and happened to swim over a bunch of seaweed. never take him swimming again.

ATSUMU decided to check himself out using someone’s car window. he’s fixing his hair, picking at his teeth, and even checking to see if he has any boogers. all of a sudden the window rolls down and there’s a senior citizen staring back at him. “boy do you think my car is your mirror?” the man says in a gruffy voice. atsumu’s knees nearly buckle from how scary this man is and how embarrassed he is of all the four minutes he probably spent with this stranger.

SACHIRO’s job as a vet sometimes makes him do really questionable shit (from an outsider perspective). once he had to ejaculate someone’s dog in front of their owner. uh huh... jack them off, for the sole purpose of examining the dog’s semen. he’s never felt such a wave of regret wash through his body during that whole procedure. it didn’t help when the owner was looking at him mortified, nor the fact that it took such a long time.

OIKAWA does this thing were he shows up unexpectedly behind iwaizumi and slaps his ass. everytime he does it iwa always hits him back (but not the ass). today he learnt his lesson when he mistook a stranger for iwa and slapped the guys ass from the moon and back. when i tell you just how quick all the blood drained from oikawa’s body when the man turned around— you can hear a bag of chips fall at the other end of the aisle and it’s the iwa, who had to witness that whole ass-slap event.

ARAN is gonna knock the shit of the miya twins one day, he swears to god. they sent him a mysterious video during his morning walk, where he stopped at a busy street. it starts off quiet, so he goes to turn the volume up full blast. damn video suddenly started blaring ‘lick my pussy and my-’ please... he’s shaking. passerby’s are looking at him with distaste. aran’s now flushed from embarrassment and running towards the miya house. you can guess what happens next.

BOKUTO walked into the wrong house. spent a whole ten minutes rummaging around the kitchen because his friend said to “make yourself comfortable, i’ll be on my way.” little did this man know that there’s a whole family upstairs waiting for the cops to arrive because they think it’s a robbery. poor bokuto, dragged out of the house by some cops but had no idea what was going on. man was literally just vibing— thinking he was in his friends house.

OSAMU swore this size pants still fit him (hint: it doesn’t). he’s walking through the snack section of the store, lightly limping because damn his dick can’t breath. his truth is tested when he goes to pick something off the lowest shelf and his pants literally go, ‘let er rip.’ fabric tore, and what’s worse is that he was wearing onigiri undies. osamu goes to check if there’s anyone else in the aisle and there is— a group of underclassmen girls from his high school.

KUROO tried to make his chemistry presentation more interesting by putting in jokes. he thought they were funny; kenma even huffed a breath. kuroo’s at his third joke by now and literally no one has laughed. not a single one. except for kuroo himself, who’s awkwardly laughing in a dead-silent room. man was embarrassed. other people are getting second-hand embarrassment by the way they avoided eye contact with him. he vented to kenma later only for kenma to say, “it wasn’t funny. it was just stupid.” poor kuroo.

SUNA accidentally connected his bluetooth to the bus. you know, the one that drives all of inarizaki to their games. wanna guess what the fuck he might’ve been listening to? it’s porn. he’s watching porn in broad daylight. suna doesn’t realize what the issue is until he goes to turn up the volume and notices that the sound is off. he take his airpods off and that’s when he hears pure moaning sounds blaring inside the bus. everyone’s laughing— except for kita and their coach who’s still outside. mf calls himself lucky for that.

#sakusa x reader #bokuto x reader #kuroo x reader #ushijima x reader #suna x reader #aran x reader #osamu x reader #atsumu x reader #kenma x reader #yamaguchi x reader #hinata x reader #oikawa x reader #daichi x reader #sachiro x reader #goshiki x reader #tsukishima x reader #tendou x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #asahi x reader #suna rintaro #aran ojiro #osamu miya #atsumu miya #oikawa tooru #tsukishima kei #tendou satori #daichi sawamura

[dreamsinthewitchouse]

YAY, congrats on the follower milestone, beautiful Kay!!! 💕🥰

For the word prompt + ship, how about Coffee + Stucky? (you know, two things I really need at all times)

Ilysm honey!!!!! Sending millions of hugs and all the love I have stored in my (unfortunately boring brown) hair your way ❤️✨🌸

Aaaaa thank you honeybee, you’re the sweetest!! 🥰💕🐝 (And shush now, your hair is luscious and gorgeous! And so’s the rest of you, obvs! ✨)

Okay, so this turned into a sort of prequel to Young Adult Friction? Also, I wrote this on about 4 hours of sleep and — you guessed it — a frickload of coffee, so, make of that what you will. 🙃 ILYSM! 💖💖💖 Stucky + coffee, Teen, 0.7k

READ ON AO3

“Motherfucker.” Steve hits the side of the coffee machine, exasperated and caffeine deprived. 

“That doesn’t actually work, you know,” a voice behind him says, startling him. 

“It ate my quarters,“ Steve mutters, rubbing his thumb over the heel of his hand. “For the third time this week.” 

He turns around, and sees a vaguely familiar looking boy with a skateboard tucked under his arm, his shoulder length hair shoved under a cap. 

“Well, then you should already know punching it gets you nowhere.” 

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m guessing you have a better solution, then?” 

“As a matter of fact I do.” The boy slides his board onto the floor and pulls out a pocket knife, flipping it open in a way that makes Steve’s mouth go a little dry. 

Oh. Okay then. 

“You just walk around with that thing, huh?” he asks, watching as the boy crouches down in front of the machine, his head tilted to the side. 

“It’s for cutting grip tape,” he explains, sliding the blade carefully into the coin slot and wiggling it around. 

Steve doesn’t know what that means, and he’s definitely not going to ask. There’s the sound of dropping coins, and the machine whirs into life. 

The boy looks up with the slightest hint of a smile, his gray eyes big and bright. “Here comes your battery acid.” 

“Oh, wow.” Steve blinks. “Thank you.” 

“No problem.” The boy gets up, folding the knife back into his pocket. “You should stop drinking this stuff, though. It’ll eat right through your stomach.” 

Steve raises an eyebrow. “You’re telling me to stop drinking coffee?” 

“I’m telling you to stop drinking this coffee.” 

Steve huffs out a breath. “Yeah, thanks, but sadly this is the only thing that gets me through the day, ulcer in the making or not.” 

“Suit yourself.” He gives Steve a one-shouldered shrug and snatches up his board. “But there’s actually a decent coffee maker in the student lounge at Wallis Hall, in case you’re ever in need of a pick me up that doesn’t make you wanna die.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Steve says, turning to grab his coffee and taking a sip. 

Yeah, it sure is terrible. 

“Hey, I didn’t catch your—“ he begins, looking over his shoulder, but the boy has disappeared down the hall. 

----

The next week Steve is lying sprawled on a bench, his sweatshirt thrown over his face to shield his eyes from the sun. 

There’s the unmistakable sound of wheels rolling along the pavement. He opens his eyes.  

A voice calls out, “Hey, Jamie!”

Steve pulls the garment off his head, blinking against the sudden brightness. 

It’s the boy from the coffee machine, screeching to a halt between Steve and some douchebag junior who’s sitting on the lawn on the other side of the quad. 

“My name’s not Jamie.” He’s got one foot on his board, the other on the ground. 

“Sure, Jamie.” The douchebag shrugs. “You on your way to play some Dungeons and Dragons?” 

The boy scowls and kicks the skateboard up into his hands. “Do I fucking look like I play D&D?”

The douchebag stands up, crushing a soda can in his hand. “Well, what if I’m sayin’ you do?” 

The boy just squares his shoulders, his chin jutting out. 

Steve gets up, too, taking a couple of steps forward. “Hey, man. Cut it out.” 

The douchebag looks at Steve, then at the boy, and back at Steve. “Whatever,” he scoffs, turning to leave. 

“Fuckmook,” the boy mutters under his breath, running a hand through his long fringe. 

“Dude, I’m so sorry, I—“ 

“The fuck was that?” The boy flips around to face Steve, his eyes flashing. 

Steve stares, aghast. “What?” 

“Look, dude, I’m sure you’ve got the whole shining knight thing down to a tee, but I don’t actually need your help, I can get by on my own just fine.” He drops his board on the ground with a clatter. 

“I didn’t—“ Steve tries, but the boy is already rolling away. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. 

(Steve doesn’t know it yet, but eight months from now he’s going to walk into the campus library looking for a Vonnegut book, and ends up finding something else entirely.)

#minnie baby i love you so 💖💖💖 #kay’s follower celebration #writing prompt requests #stucky #stucky college au #stucky fic

[julek]

for love, for love, for love

for @writinglizards <3 love you, i hope you enjoy the filth. | READ ON AO3

rated E | 2.8K | warnings: A/B/O, intersex omegas, knotting

The sun was shining, birds were singing, and Jaskier was in love.

After years and years and some more years of pining and moping around miserably, Jaskier had finally gathered up the courage (and the liquor) to look into soft vanilla-eyes and utter the most important three words that had ever crossed his mind. And he’d watched as Geralt’s eyes had softened, melting into amber, and crinkled around the corners; felt the way his scent had gone sweet and the faint smell of lust had begun to fill his senses.

And they’d fallen into bed — after a murmured yes, I do too, and a sigh of relief, and sweet nothings whispered between long-coming kisses. And Jaskier had found himself pressed flat against the rickety inn bed as Geralt’s breaths came hot and heavy against his throat, their hips pressed together. They’d come just like that — legs entwined and sweaty kisses being pressed into each other’s skin.

Jaskier had expected Witchers to be different — Geralt had offhandedly mentioned some of the changes they’d had to go through in their adolescence, the way their skin stretched and their muscles tore apart just to be rebuilt anew. He was the only omega in his pack, he’d told him, and had therefore been trained harder, pushed into new limits just to be assured he would stand his ground in a fight. What a load of shit, Jaskier had thought, the image of a brown-haired Geralt chained to a bed, crying out in pain making his hackles rise.

“I want you to knot me,” Geralt had murmured against his chest, unprompted, that first night. Jaskier groaned.

“You— that— you can’t just say that to me, Geralt,” he’d huffed, frowning at Geralt’s self-satisfied smirk. “You’ve basically rendered me useless for the months to come, dear.”

Geralt shrugged. “I want you to,” he said simply. “I wanted you to, tonight.”

“Oh?” Jaskier made an inhuman effort to sit up straighter, propped against the wall with two-hundred pounds of satisfied Witcher on top of him. “I didn’t— I would never assume.”

Geralt pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat, burrowing closer into Jaskier’s warmth. “I know,” he murmured. Then, he took a deep breath. “It’s harder, for us,” he said. “To be… prepared.” He looked up at Jaskier. “Here,” he said, and took Jaskier’s hand, guiding it down to his crotch. Jaskier’s breath hitched as his fingers gently brushed against Geralt’s folds, but a tiny frown appeared on his brow when, instead of hot wetness, he was met with dry skin.

He looked at Geralt. “But did you—”

“I did,” Geralt reassured him. He closed his eyes. “Witchers— I can’t produce much slick. No matter how much I want to.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said, his voice small.

Geralt took Jaskier’s hand back, began playing with his fingers. “I’m— I can’t carry. The Trials took that away, and they thought… they thought I wouldn’t be tempted to try, either, if it was harder for me to…” He trails off, gesturing at their bodies. “I’m broken. I’m sorry.”

Jaskier took him into his arms and hugged him tightly to his chest, his nose pressed against the crook of his neck, and felt Geralt’s shoulders release some of the tension they were holding. “I love you,” he murmured. “You. You’re not broken.” He kissed the top of his head. “I want you to feel good. To enjoy yourself.” He pulled back, meeting Geralt’s eyes. “You make me feel—” He spluttered, at a loss for eloquency, and it made Geralt laugh. “I don’t even have words for it. You make me feel incredible, love, and I only want the same for you.”

Geralt leaned his forehead against Jaskier’s. “Thank you,” he said, his voice small. “I do want your knot, though.”

Jaskier laughed, his thumb rubbing Geralt’s hip soothingly. “And I’d love to give it to you, any time, no questions asked,” he replied. “Is there something we could do?”

Geralt leaned back, sitting on Jaskier’s lap. They were touching everywhere, and Jaskier couldn’t get enough of it. “Oil could work. Takes too much time, though, and it— it doesn’t feel good.” He frowned. “We could… when my heat comes,” he said, awkwardly. “No way of telling when that would be, though.”

The sole mention of sharing Geralt’s heat made Jaskier’s Alpha preen. “You’d like that?”

Geralt nodded. “I would.” His shoulders slumped slightly. “I’m sorry it’s all I can offer you, Jask.”

Jaskier shook his head, his hands coming up to rest on either side of Geralt’s head. “You are enough,” he said. “All of you, always. Believe me” —he rocked his half-hard cock against Geralt’s thigh— “you will never leave me wanting. I want you because I love you, not because I want to fuck you.” Geralt smiled. “Which I do want to do, because you drive me insane— but I’d happily be by your side if all you ever wanted to do was kiss,” he said, and pressed a sweet kiss to Geralt’s lips to emphasize his point. “Because I love you.”

There was a faint blush on Geralt’s cheeks, and he smirked. “You’ve said.”

“And I hope you know I’ll never stop,” Jaskier replied, grinning. “I love you, I love you, I lo—”

Geralt had shut him up with a kiss of his own.

Seasons had passed, flowers had bloomed and empires had fallen, and they’d gotten creative. Geralt was insatiable, Jaskier had learned, and he’d discovered countless ways to make him come — on his fingers, on his mouth, rutting against his half-blown knot. Their scents were intermingled, now, sweet jasmine and olives entangled with leather and fresh bread.

“My heat is near,” Geralt whispered to him one night, pressed against his body as they were laying on their bedrolls.

“Yeah?” Jaskier replied, willing the thumping of his heart to slow down, even if Geralt would be able to tell anyway. “How near?”

Geralt rolled around to face him. “A week.”

Smiling softly, Jaskier pressed him closer, wrapping his arms around him and dropping a kiss on his temple. Tentatively, Geralt purred against him. “A week.”

As the days passed, Jaskier could feel Geralt grow more and more restless, pacing around their camp on nights when he had nothing else to do and kicking and thrashing in his sleep. His scent was changing, too, turning sweeter and heavier, making Jaskier dizzy whenever he caught a whiff of it.

He secured an inn room for them, his hard-earned coin going into the sticky hands of the innkeeper. Geralt had protested — had argued he could spend his heat in the forest, for crying out loud, but he’d taken one look at Jaskier and realized there would be no bargaining.

He hadn’t let Jaskier help with the nest, though. In fact, he’d made him leave the room — just outside, though, as he couldn’t stand it if Jaskier wandered too far — and had looked very sheepish as Jaskier had walked in again, his eyes falling on his arrangement. Jaskier had refrained from calling it adorable and shedding a tear or two, only because Geralt’s heat was hours away and he could not get his hands off him.

“I need you,” Geralt whined, already scrambling to get Jaskier’s clothes off. “Now.”

Not one to argue, Jaskier hurried to remove his doublet and chemise as Geralt hungrily tore at the knots on his trousers. Their mouths clashed against each other, hot and wet, as Geralt kissed him fiercely, Jaskier giving as good as he got. He got a hold of Geralt’s undershirt and took it off, tossing it on the floor, and his pants followed. He pulled back, and took a moment.

“What?” Geralt said, and Jaskier’s Alpha roared at the sight of him — fully nude and covered in a light sheen of sweat, the sunlight pouring from the closed window enveloping him in warmth, his flushed cheeks and tousled hair the picture of his dreams, his hard cocklet jutting against the cut of his abdomen, an inviting sight.

“Look at you,” Jaskier rumbled, his hands coming down to frame Geralt’s waist. Geralt let out a pitiful whine, embarrassed. “No, no— how could you be ashamed, when you look this beautiful.” He nosed at his throat, breathing in the sweet, ripe scent of him. “I want to eat you up.”

“Please.” Geralt pressed himself against Jaskier’s body, his cocklet rocking against Jaskier’s half-hard cock. “Please, Alpha.”

Any thread of sanity Jaskier had been holding onto snapped as he growled low in his throat in response, mouthing at Geralt’s shoulder, feeling the shudder that ran down his spine. “Geralt.”

“Yes, please, yes, Jaskier,” he panted. “Please.”

Pressing a tender kiss to his mouth, Jaskier led him to the bed. They fell against the soft, worn blankets, Geralt’s back pressed against them as his thighs winded around Jaskier’s waist.

“So eager,” he teased, but rocked down against Geralt. He pressed kisses to his mouth, his cheeks, his throat, any part of him he could reach as his fingers travelled down Geralt’s chest, down, down, down until he brushed against his cocklet, making him moan. “There you go,” he said, jerking him between his fingers. “Good boy.”

Geralt gasped at the praise, falling back against the mattress, boneless, as Jaskier pressed open-mouthed kisses down his body, following the invisible line his finger had drawn just a moment ago. “Such a good boy for me,” he murmured, reveling in the needy mewl it pulled out of his Witcher. “So beautiful.”

“Jask—” whatever Geralt wanted to say died in his throat as Jaskier licked a stripe up his cunt and his words dissolved into a punched-out moan. “F-fuck, Jask.”

Jaskier hummed against him, his tongue lapping gently against Geralt’s folds, the taste of his slick inundating his senses. He wasn’t dripping, not yet, but as Jaskier pressed his finger against Geralt’s opening, he could feel its warmth as it clenched around nothing. “So wet for me,” he panted, pressing a kiss to the curls just above his cocklet. “Such a pretty omega.”

“Jask,” Geralt moaned, his hand coming down to rest on Jaskier’s head as he continued lapping at his cunt, the filthy sounds of Geralt’s moans and his slick going straight to his cock where it hung heavy between his legs, neglected. Gently, Jaskier pushed his tongue against Geralt’s entrance, fucking him with shallow thrusts in a rhythm he knew drove Geralt crazy, delighted in the barely-there resistance he found as he pushed his tongue inside.

“I’m— Jask,” Geralt panted, his grip tight on Jaskier’s hair, “I’m gonna—”

Jaskier hummed against him, and that drove him over the edge. Geralt’s thighs pressed hard against Jaskier’s head, locking him in, his cunt clenching around nothing as his hips rocked forward against Jaskier’s tongue, little ah, ah, ah sounds being pulled out of him.

“So good,” Jaskier purred, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on Geralt’s thighs as his breaths evened out. Jaskier had always teased him for how useless he was rendered once he’d come, but the scent of his heat was thick and heavy around them, and he could see in Geralt’s eyes that he wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon. Good, his Alpha rumbled, let’s keep our pretty mate awake.

Jaskier shook his head, willing his possessive Alpha away. Geralt wasn’t his — as much as he’d wanted to — and he wasn’t going to be yet another knotheaded alpha who couldn’t keep his teeth to himself.

“Hey,” Geralt said softly, bringing him out of his reverie. He was looking at him with tenderness in his eyes. “C’mere.”

Jaskier went happily, his mouth finding Geralt’s in a slow, deep kiss. He swallowed Geralt’s moan as he tasted himself in his mouth, his fingers brushing lightly against Geralt’s soft stomach.

He grinned when he felt Geralt whine.

“Desperate already?”

In response, Geralt flipped them around, positioning himself above Jaskier as he ground down against him. His cocklet was rock-hard again, brushing against Jaskier’s leaking cock, making him moan.

“You feel so good, pup,” he managed, his hands resting on Geralt’s hips, not guiding, simply holding. “So— fuck, so perfect.”

Geralt bent down to kiss him, filthy and hard, and suddenly the movement stopped. Jaskier was about to complain when Geralt lifted himself up a bit, and Jaskier felt his dripping cunt grind against the base of his cock.

“Fuck, Geralt— fuck.” The pressure on his aching knot made his eyes roll back in his head with pleasure, and fuck— Geralt’s cunt was wet and soft against him as he moved up and down. They both moaned as, on a well-aimed thrust, the head of Jaskier’s cock caught on Geralt’s opening.

“Jaskier,” his Witcher panted, and there was a needy edge to his voice, “please.”

“What do you want?” Jaskier asked, out of breath himself, his hands running up and down Geralt’s sides as he rocked his length against Geralt.

Geralt whined. “You.”

“You’ll need— ah— to be more specific, dear.”

“I want— fuck,” Geralt shuddered. “I need your knot.”

Jaskier was a mere mortal, after all. In a swift movement, he pressed two of his fingers to Geralt’s sopping cunt, rubbing his entrance just to get him used to the feeling. He was used to it — had come on Jaskier’s fingers rubbing against him more than once — but Jaskier needed to be sure.

“C’mon, I’m good, please.” Jaskier pressed his fingers inside, punching out a groan out of his Witcher, who rocked down on his fingers as deep as he could go. “More,” he pleaded, and Jaskier could do nothing more than comply.

With three fingers deep inside of him, Geralt deemed himself ready. “Now, Jaskier, please.”

Jaskier used his slicked-up hand to smooth over his cock, and Geralt whined at the loss, chanting feverishly, “Please Alpha, please, I need your knot, want it so bad, I need—”

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, reaching for a kiss. Geralt melted against him, and Jaskier positioned him over his swollen cock. “Ready?”

Geralt clawed at his back. “Yes, yes, please—”

In one smooth motion, Jaskier entered him. It felt heavenly, the wet warmth enveloping him and swallowing him whole, the feeling of Geralt’s body against him, sweaty and wound-up and perfect, his needy mewls coming out of his chest unbidden. He reveled in it.

But then, Geralt started to move, and whatever ode Jaskier had been composing in his head flew out of the window, because this— this made Jaskier sob, for there was nothing like it.

Jaskier leaned back against the blankets and watched, enraptured, as Geralt bounced up and down on his cock, and it was filthy — the way his hair was messy and disheveled, his cheeks dark red and his eyes shut with pleasure — but it was also oh so tender, watching him chase his release with abandon.

“Fuck, Jask,” Geralt moaned, his hands on Jaskier’s chest as he picked up speed, Jaskier’s swollen knot catching on his entrance. Slick was dripping down his thighs. “Feel so good.”

Jaskier groaned, his orgasm building up inside him. “Geralt, dear— fucking Melitele— fuck, I’m not going to last.”

“Good,” Geralt purred, his pace never faltering. “Give me your knot, Alpha.”

And oh, how Jaskier wanted to. Still, “Are you sure?”

Geralt slowed down the slightest bit, and pressed a soft kiss to Jaskier’s lips. “I’m sure,” he said. “I love you.”

Jaskier pushed his knot inside as he came with a groan. All he could think of was Geralt, Geralt, Geralt, as he felt him clench down on his knot, milking him. “Fuck, Geralt—”

“Yes, yes, good Alpha,” Geralt chanted, reaching down between his legs and rubbing his leaking cocklet. “Jaskier—”

He kept coming, pumping Geralt full of it, and the thought made him shudder. “My sweet omega, so beautiful, so good to me—”

Geralt came with a cry, his hips stuttering and pushing Jaskier’s knot deeper inside him. It dragged a moan out of Jaskier, feeling the tie tug against him, and Geralt collapsed on top of him.

Gently, and with as much care as he could manage, Jaskier arranged them on their sides. They moaned as the movement tugged on Jaskier’s knot, and Jaskier pressed a kiss to Geralt’s temple, his arms wrapped around him.

“Geralt,” he whispered.

“Mmm.”

Jaskier laughed, dazed. “Love.”

“Mmmmmmm.”

Ah, useless after coming. “How do you feel?”

Geralt pressed back against him, clenching weakly around him. “Good,” he rasped. “So good.”

Jaskier hummed behind him, pressing soft kisses on his shoulder, his neck, his cheek. “I’m glad.”

Geralt turned his head, reaching for a kiss. Jaskier gave it to him. “I love you,” he whispered against his lips, and Jaskier felt his heart leap in his chest.

“I love you too,” he answered.

Geralt watched him through half-lidded eyes. It made Jaskier laugh. “Go to sleep, old man.”

Geralt frowned at him, then clenched hard, making Jaskier gasp.

“You—” Jaskier hissed, “are lucky you’re pretty.”

Geralt closed his eyes, smug, and nestled himself against Jaskier, kneading at the blankets.

“Sleep,” Jaskier murmured. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Geralt’s scent spiked with lust. “Gather your strength,” he mumbled sleepily. “You’ll need it.”

#mywriting #smut directly under the cut lmao #geraskier fanfic #a/b/o geraskier #geraskier smut #geralt x jaskier

[deepdonutkid]

Kismet

Requested: No

Paring: Shelby!Sister Reader x Isaiah

Words: 5624

Summary: For a year now, you had a secret relationship with Isaiah and even when he is still in the same room with you, you can’t stop feeling lonely. It’s not that you don’t love him anymore, it more about the weight of the secret you have to carry. But with Tommy as you big brother you can’t risk, telling the truth or your man might get shot.

Note:

I was in the mood for a Shelby!Sister reader x Isaiah and it turned out to be way longer than I expected it... and I even cut out dialog... So here it is!

It’s also flavored with Junior Peaky Boys fun at the beginning. And I was inspired by my homegirl’s one shot called star and my story is an addition to hers, it’s the same night, but Bonnie has some other adventures than the reader and Isaiah.

Somehow I feel like everybody is a little ooc, but I couldn’t correct it.

Requests and tag list are still open, feel free to dm me or send me an ask.

tagging: @bonniesgoldengirl​ @justalonelyslytherin​ @theshelbyclan​ 

Warning: swear words, drinking, binge drinking, gambling, a hinted smut and a sweet ending

It was one of those nights, nothing special, just the usual fellows around the same table in the Garrison.  You had fun nevertheless. All your friends were right there, you had enough to drink and you had a luck hand today. The cards seemed to work in your fortune.

Deviously smiling you revealed your hand. You just had won this round and it gave you unholy amounts of satisfactions. “Ha”, you cheered: “Suck it up.”

Your friend shrugged and shoved his coins in your direction. All he said was a very grumpy “There you go”, but it pleased you.

You took the money and peaked around the corner. Where was Michael with the drinks? He was like a brother to you, but he was just your cousin. Maybe it was because you were born just two months before his older sister, Anna. Even though, she was gone Michael came back to his real family and now you were closer than ever. You cared for him, more than your siblings did.

But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t hit him, if he just left the bar to fuck with some random girl. It was not about him having sex, more about leaving without telling anybody. Especially when he was supposed to get drinks for the table. You moaned and said: “Where is Michael?”

“Probably doing somebody”, Isaiah joked and lit a cigarette. Then he offered you one and you took it gladly. Actually, you bit your lip and gave him the side-eye, but you had to hide your smile in front of the others. Bonnie and Finny weren’t the smartest boys in Small Heath, but you wouldn’t risk it.

You had so much fun with Isaiah that you didn’t even know when it started. Months passed by, while you were completely caught up in your little game with him. Nobody knew it. That was mainly Isaiah’s fault. At first it amused you to keep your relationship with him secret, but now you were ready to tell your family about it. Your boyfriend didn’t like the idea.

Somehow you thought Michael started to notice. He gave you the glace, which said: “I know, dear”, but maybe you were just getting crazy. You just had to be more careful around others now and everything was fine.

The night was still young and you were keen to make Bonnie lose all his money today. He had won the boxing match earlier and the bruises were still visible, but unfortunately for him, he couldn’t win against you. It was just a card game, but it filled you with gleeful joy. This and the fact that Isaiah was sitting next to you. Sometimes he would brush your thigh with his fingers, which made you giggle even more.

“There he is”, yelled Finny while being so fucking drunk, like you never had seen him before. Michael arrived with messy hair and his tie was undone, but he had your drink and that was all that you care for. “Finally”, you fluted and ripped the glass of his hand: “Thank you, babe.”

And the whiskey was still cold, which meant he fucked the girl first and ordered the drinks afterwards. “How was she? Good?” you asked before you took a sip from your whiskey. You weren’t a lightweight when it came to drinking, maybe not as well as Arthur and John, but you could tolerate much more than Ada and Finny. Your little brother was so drunk, he looked like his head was all empty and yet filled with bullshit.

Michael sat down next to you and answered: “Mhh, she was okay, but she talked too much.” Then you felt the weight of a hand on your thigh again. A shiver rushed down your spine, but it was the wrong side. Your cousin had put his hand on your knee. “Everything alright, Y/N?”

You nodded. “Yeah, everything is perfect”, you blabbered hoping he wouldn’t keep asking questions, but he did. “Don’t be so worried, every time I’m with a girl. I know you’re still a virgin, but you can get some too. Tommy wouldn’t be against it.”

How wonderfully wrong he was. Neither were you a virgin nor would Tommy be okay with this. After all, you were his little sister and he wouldn’t accept the guy, you were sleeping with. Of course, Isaiah was a friend of the family, but after the whole thing with Ada and Freddie you had something to worry about.

The best snarky comeback was right on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t say it without letting something slip. ‘What gives you the idea I’m still a virgin?’ And yet you were silent as the guy who fucked you, sat right next to you. You felt trapped and decided to go straight forward. “Yes, he would. You know it and everybody in Small Heath knows it.”

“Oh whatever”, Michael mumbled: “Just drink enough and you eventually forget about it.”

You grinned and emptied your drink. “Fuck it, let’s play some cards. I’m not done with Mr. Gold over here.”  Then you took the cards and dealt them to start the next round.

Much later that night when you brought Finn back home and went straight back to the pub, in front of the entrance, you stumbled into Bonnie. “Is there a reason why you’re smirking?” you asked him. He was gleaming red and smiling like an idiot.

Then you remembered. “The singer, right?” Bonnie nodded and his grin got even wider. “You talked to her?” Again he gave you a silent answer. You grabbed his arm and pulled him back inside. He was a lot heavier than you thought, but then again, you were just a girl and he was a boxer.

Sometime it was weird to only have male friends, it just happened. Maybe it was because of your brothers. Maybe that’s why you never acted like a proper girl. Of course you felt like a woman and you liked your body, but in your eyes it was so much easier to talk to guys.

“Eyy, where did you found him?” Michael slurred and helped you to put your friend on a chair again. With your hands finally free you had the chance to explain. “Found him outside. I don’t know what he did there, but he talked to the singer.”

Both, Isiah and Michael nodded. It was only logical for Bonnie to freak out after it talking to her. He was there every Friday night looking for the singer and now his brain seemed to melt, just because she said something to him. But neither of you knew, what she said exactly. Maybe this was a problem for another night. It didn’t look like Bonnie was able to answer.

So you ordered some more drinks and sat back down again. In this separate room, which was reserved for your family, it was almost too tempting to get close to your boyfriend again. Isiah looked so good that night and it hurt to be unable to touch him… or to kiss him. But you would be satisfied with just holding his hand now.

It was a curse; you knew it soon after you realized that you loved him. He was handsome, charming and a loyal friend. There was no better man for you, even though you wished you could be together in public. And again you bit your lip and moved your chair away from him.

But you couldn’t think about this anymore, it was too frustrating and luckily somebody else caught your attention. It was Bonnie who mumbled very quietly: “I think she kissed me, but it could be a dream as well. It felt so surreal.”  You padded his shoulder and nodded to underline your compassion.

It was just the same with Isaiah. Whenever you two were alone, it was amazing and beautiful. He was so soft and romantic and he just made you happy. But every time you woke up and he was gone, the sweet scenery shattered. And out in public it was getting annoying to find excuses to be with him or getting away, so you could spend some time alone with him and you had to lie to your whole family about your whereabouts. Slowly it became exhausting.

There was nothing you could do about it, so you just drank your whiskey and talked with the boys about Bonnie’s singer and the girl Michael had. It was so easy for them to display their relationship in the public, but of course you didn’t have this privilege as a girl. Apparently, you needed to be protected. Or so it has been explained to you. You wasn’t concerned for your safety but for your freedom. Tommy said it was his job as your big brother to care for you, even if it felt like he was controlling you. You have always been the wild one among your siblings and everything was fine, until your mum died and your dad left. Then Tommy was in charge and sometimes his opinions would vary from yours, which led to fights. And yet you feared what he might do, if he found out about your secret.

All the sudden Bonnie fell from his chair and you groaned. Now somebody had to bring him home as well. First Finn and now him… but why they couldn’t take the whiskey today? You weren’t nearly as drunk as them, but still.

Isaiah stood up and picked his friend up. “I’m taking him home. I’ll be right back”, he said, before leaving.

Now Michael and you were alone. It wasn’t what you wanted. The only thing you could think of was smooching the sweet lips of your boyfriend. You were caught up in your little fantasy, when your cousin woke you up again. “Isaiah is acting weird lately.”

“Oh… really? I didn’t notice”, you replied: “He seemed normal to me.” Your hand grabbed the fringe of your dress. Talking about him made you nervous.

Michael moaned and fumbled for his cigarettes. He put them out, you took one and he turned his between his fingers, when he added: “I don’t know, maybe I’m getting paranoid, but I think he is hiding something from us.” Then he lit his cigarette and took a drag from it.

You inhaled sharply and stared into the void for a second, before answering: “Don’t be silly, he is just as loyal as ever.” Then you laughed and Michael joined in. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I just needed to get this off my chest.”

The rest of the conversation went just like usual. You chatted, you bickered and you had fun. While the bell already announced the new day, Isaiah came back.

In this tiny glimpse of a moment you couldn’t hide your smile and he reciprocated. Actually, you were just waiting for Michael to leave now. It was your plan all along, but patience has never been your strong suit.

It took three more rounds for Michael to say goodnight. “Take care of her, will you?” Isaiah nodded. When Michael finally grabbed his jacket and headed to the door, you felt unbelievably excited. Your fingertips slapped a melody on the table, while you watched him leaving. The door shut and now you had what you longed for all night.

You turned around and looked at him. Gosh, waiting felt like an eternity. Now you were the one smiling like an idiot. Slowly Isaiah came closer and his hand pulled you to him for a kiss. “Finally”, you whispered against his lips, before giving him what he wanted.

After you two parted you rested your head on his shoulder. Now you were getting tired as well, but you didn’t want to go to your bed. “I was waiting the whole evening for this”, he moaned and stroked your hair.

The smell of his perfume made you realized how much you missed him too, even though he was with you since you went to Garrison tonight. You moved closer to him and wrapped your arms around him to give him a tight squeeze. Then you signed: “I wish we didn’t have to hide” and buried your face in his shirt.

“Babe”, he replied: “We already had this conversation. It wouldn’t end well. Let’s just enjoy what we have as long as we can.” It hurt, but Isaiah was right. There was no chance Tommy was getting you off the hook, once he knew about it. And no matter how you explained it to him, he would still be against it. You were too young for stuff like that, as if he didn’t fucked Greta, when he was the same age.

You leaned back to see his beautiful face again. There was something in his eyes, a twinkle or something like that, but it always made you feel comfortable. A lick of your lip was enough to purpose the idea of doing something nasty. He knew you since you were children and it was like he could read your thoughts, especially the dirty ones.

Isaiah started giggling and asked: “Hey, babe, I still can cheer you up, right?”

Maybe it was time for some fun, different to the fun you had before with your friends. The word pleasure would describe it well and with his knowing look he gave you so many ideas. You laughed and nodded. “I think it might help when you do the thing with your tongue.”

“Oh”, he responded amused: “Like this?” And then grabbed you for a kiss and god, what a kiss it was. His tongue brushed your upper lip just to enter your mouth and explore it as if it was your first kiss. He even bit your lip playfully and kept going until you couldn’t breathe no more. Your knees started shaking and it was needless to say, he was the best kisser you ever had.

It took you a while to catch a breath again, but then you answered: “Yeah, just like this… But maybe we could go to your place and do a little more?”

He didn’t seem to be so sure about this suggestion. His thumb stroked your shoulder as he held you in his arm. Because he was so quiet for a second, you knew, he thought about this backwards and forwards. “But right when the sun comes up, you have to go back home”, he argued.

Again, Isaiah was right. You should take too many risks. Otherwise you might get caught and neither of you wanted that. All you could do was to shrug and agree: “Just don’t shoo me after we fucked.” There was bitterness in your voice. What wouldn’t you give to wake up next to him every morning?

The pub was almost empty, when you left. You couldn’t hold his hand on the way out. Everybody in Small Heath was Tommy’s spy. Back on the streets a cold wind blew. Now you had an excuse to go near him and he shared his coat with you. Isaiah was always so sweet and caring. You knew you wanted to spend your future with him. There was no other man and you wouldn’t get over him, not now and not in five years.

You even took off your shoes before entering the Jesus household and followed him on your tiptoes to his room. It was completely dark in the house and the silence was haunting, but good for you, you knew the way by now. The excitement made your fingers tremble.

Finally you arrived where you wanted to be the whole day, in his room. Isaiah closed the door as quietly as possible and started smiling. You walked up to him and started to unbutton his shirt. Now you didn’t want to waste any time.

And neither did Isaiah. He was ripping down your dress, which only worked because the straps were so thin. His hands were all over your body and you couldn’t stop kissing every inch of his skin. It felt like magic whenever he touched you. You moaned, when he played with your bare breasts. To silence you he put his thumb on your lips, which you took as an invitation to suck it. Maybe it was mean to tease him like that, but you were desperate for his affection.

An hour later you laid next to him, your head on his chest as he stroked your hair. “You should leave, before we both fall asleep, babe”, he whispered, which caused you to sign. Leaving now was draining, even exhausting. After this wonderful sex, you were too tired to move anywhere, not to the bathroom and certainly not back to your cold bed.

You pouted your lips and tilted your head, so you could give him your puppy eyes and a pretty please with cream and a cherry on top. “Just ten more minutes. Your bed is way comfier than mine.”

He laughed and kissed your forehead. “That’s just because I’m in this bed and you like to use me as your personal giant pillow.” Your fingers hovered about his belly. Even though his muscles weren’t tense now, you could still feel the strength lying beneath his skin.

While your index finger drew circles around his bellybutton, you whined: “Maybe… just maybe that is true, but I still want to lay here for a bit. Otherwise I start to feel like a whore, who only comes for sex and leaves silently afterwards.”  It wasn’t a knock against Lizzie or her job, but you didn’t like the feeling, when you got home and had to find sleep in your own bed. Even though you had a relationship with him, you still felt lonely. Especially when the sun was rising and nobody was by your side.

“You’re not a whore and you know that”, he argued looking a little concerned.

Then you turned on your back and stared at the ceiling. “No, I’m a Shelby and that is probably worse”, you scoffed.

Now Isaiah was silent and had no witty comeback for that. Maybe, because it was true. If you weren’t part of the family, you could be with anyone, whoever you wanted. Carrying the name Shelby was the only reason, why you had to hide your relationship with Isaiah.

After a while he mumbled: “Okay, stay for a while, but you should be back before they open the shop.” By that time you were already half asleep and yet his words made you smile. He wrapped his arms around you, the little spoon and purred like a cat. Just in this position the both of you fell asleep.

Loud steps were coming near the door, but they wouldn’t wake you up. The screaming of Isaiah’s name did. It was a familiar voice and it took you a couple of minutes to notice, it was your brother Finn who shouted and ran down the hall. Suddenly you were wide awake. You startled up and looked around the room. The sun was already up and shining through the window. Then you saw Isaiah, who was just as frightened as you were.

If Finn came rushing through that door, your secret relationship was no longer secret. “I locked the door last night”, he whispered, which was relieving to you, but still no perfect solution for this problem.

Now Finn arrived at the other side of the door and was knocking on it like crazy. “Isaiah, wake up! Y/N is gone. Nobody can find her and Michael said you were the last one with her in the bar”, your brother yelled. You could hear the panic in his voice, but you couldn’t get caught. Not now.

You stumbled out of the bed and collected your clothes, when you heard Isaiah ask: “What are you going to do? You can’t go out there. He will find out.” And you knew your boyfriend wasn’t concerned about Finn, more about Tommy.

The tension in the room was immense. You had to come up with a plan or your brothers would shoot your lover in front of your eyes.

Suddenly you knew what to do. You pushed the pile of clothing to your chest and squeeze it thigh, when you explained in a lower tone: “I’m gonna hide in the wardrobe and then you open the door and go with Finn away. Afterwards I can come out and then I go to the betting shop and tell the others I have fallen asleep on a bench or something.” It was not the best plan, but yet your only option.

Isaiah nodded and you climbed into the cabinet where he stored his shirt and jackets. The second you entered the small wooden space, you knew it was all going down. Call it intuition, call it divination, call it whatever power Polly owned, but you felt it rushing through your body. He closed the door behind you and then you could hear him stumble into his pants.

Only half clothed he unlocked the door to let Finn in. Isaiah was still sleepy. He wasn’t the morning type of person and before he hadn’t had his breakfast he wasn’t really available. Finn strode up and down. You heard is nervous steps. “Everybody is freaking out right now. Polly thinks somebody kidnapped her or worse. I mean, she has always been unratable in her doings, but this time my sister is really going of the edge. It’s already past lunch and nobody has seen her”, Finn explained: “This morning her bed was empty and I thought I shouldn’t worry, but now I’m afraid I should have said something sooner.”

The cabinet was very uncomfortable and yet you tried not to move or to make a noise, which would cause Finn’s attention. However, being in Isaiah’s position didn’t seem to be pleasant as well. He had to lie to his best friend about the whereabouts of his missing sister, knowing she was sitting right here. Isaiah patted his friends shoulder and said nothing.

Finn didn’t calm down and seemed to be upset, Isaiah wasn’t panicking like him. “C’mon, get dressed. We have to look for her. She might be lying somewhere in the dirt. We shouldn’t waste even more time, standing around.” Then he walked to the closet and opened just the door where you had been hiding.

Butt-naked you fell down to the floor and looked up to your younger brother, who had the same face expression as the one time you told him where the babies were coming from. Some when later you would look back at this moment and would have a good laugh about this, but right now it felt like your world was collapsing.

He should have seen you like this and it took you a whole minute to gather the mental energy to get back up at your feet and greet him like it was the normal thing to do in a situation like this. “Hey, Finny, there I am.”

Your brother froze mid movement and stared at you as if you were the first pink elephant the world has seen or a bear riding a bike. Then he broke the silence. “What?”, he winced. There was no anger in his voice, just total confusion.

Finn looked to Isaiah and then back to you. “You screwed my sister?!”

There was no answer to this question.

“How long?” Finn asked: “How long did you hide that from me?”

You glared over to you boyfriend as if you were asking him for permission to say something. Isaiah signed and nodded. There was no point in denying this anymore. It was over.

Now you had to tell the truth. “A couple of months, maybe a year or so”, you croaked and your voice sounded strange. Like it was not your own and even though you dreamt about finally opening up, it shouldn’t have been like this.

Your brother yelled: “A year?! A whole fucking year? Damn, I should be proud because apparently you two are excellent liars with no moral issues… you two deserve each other.” You heard the disgust and disappointment, when he spoke and it broke your heart. Back then, when the whole thing started you though he might be the only one of your brothers to understand you. How wonderfully wrong you were.

“No”, you said under your breath: “Don’t fucking do this to me. I would have told you, if you wouldn’t have run straight to Tommy after you knew. Everybody knows you can’t keep a secret. So don’t act like it was my fault or my mistake, because it’s not. I would have gladly told everybody, I’m like him very much, but you and Tommy and Arthur and John made it impossible for me to even talk with a guy who is not part of the gang. You can’t turn this around and act like you are the victim in all this.”

It was time for you to stand up for yourself and your decisions… and time for you to get dressed. You didn’t seem as responsible as you were when you were still naked and in front of the closed you have been hiding in. Now you knew how wrong it was to lie and hide your relationship, because it wasn’t their concern. It was your life, your body and your choice. Nobody could take that from you and certainly not your brothers. You weren’t afraid of them. All your life you saw how your brothers treated women and you said nothing about it, but this should change right now.

So you stood there, furious and filled with rage, put on your dress and your shoes and said one last thing, before leaving: “This madness has to end.”

You stormed out of the room- not caring for Isaiah or Finn- and heading for the King of Small Heath to throw him out of his high throne. Your hair was a nest and you smelled like a bar after a dirty old night, when you entered the betting shop. Nobody was there, just the regular family members.

Everybody seemed to be relieved to see you again and then came close to hug you. Ada was right next to the door and the first to greet you. “Oh my god, you’re back, sweetie”, she muttered.

Next was Polly who examined your appearance for cuts and other injuries. Of course you had none, besides the hickeys Isaiah gave you. She tried to take a closer look of your neck, but you pulled away, which caused her to ask: “What happened? Where were you all night?”

Now Tommy was coming up to you. His steps were slow, but fierce and the glare in his eyes was pinching. “Just from the smell I would guess, she was with a guy this night”, he scoffed: “She probably had a lot of fun, but now she should say, who that guy was, so we can take actions.” You knew he was addressing you, even though he didn’t phrase it like that.

“I don’t think, this is your business”, you replied with a grin on your face. You wouldn’t back down. Not this time. “But yes, I was with a guy tonight. So you don’t need to worry. I’m completely fine.”

Your older brother led out a little laugh, pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Well, well, well, I don’t care what you think. I’m your brother and it’s my job to make sure you’re safe”, he explained: “And now you tell me who he was.” Ah, past tense, a hint of what was going to happen.

You crossed your arms and tiled your head to give him a dismissive look. “Who said it was your job?” was your comeback, but your brother wasn’t remotely impressed. Neither of you would let the other win. You were too stubborn for this gesture of insight.

Others, including Arthur and John, were somehow intimidated by Tommy’s behavior, but not you. Actually, you learned too much from him to take his shit.  He taught you to help your head up high and how to outsmart your enemies.  Now you could use the same strategies against him.

“Ever since our father left and mom died, you act like you are in charge, but you’re not. We are your siblings, not your pawn, waiting for your command”, you hissed: “I have my own life and I make my own decisions and who I meet shouldn’t concern you.” Slowly your anger grew. It was a boiling feeling in your gut, like you were fueled with fire.

Tommy was getting gleaming red. You had hit the right spot and you knew you would hurt him with your words, but otherwise he wouldn’t understand. The words were stuck in his throat as he killed you with his looks.

Patiently, you waited for his answer. He wouldn’t give you the satisfaction, but silencing your brother was the best thing ever, since he was the reason why you felt miserable lately. “No comeback? No arguments, dear?” You loved to poke his wounds and you did it with a huge smile on your face.

“As if you would listen to me… You even said it yourself. You wouldn’t take my advice”, he responded and bid his lip. “But I don’t need to talk to you to teach you a lesson. You’re too young to fuck around town and I’m going to find the bastard who did this and kill him.”

The door was opened behind you and soon Finn entered the room. You gave your little brother the death glare you were known for. He shouldn’t get the idea he was allowed to talk about what he found out.

You should be raging right now, but all you could do was laugh. His empty threats weren’t as daunting as he thought. With nothing but spite you whistled: “I would love to see you try. I kept this a secret for over a year now and you noticed nothing. And now I can wait another year for you to find him… or I could run away… whatever you prefer.”

Now you’re pushing your luck. Finn could ruin everything, if he just said one wrong word. The palms of your hands were sweaty. It was a dangerous game you played there, but it was not like you could back out of it now. This was road of no return.

Tommy seemed to be more surprised than fuming, when he asked: “You slept with some geezers for a year now?” He respected your talent to keep it under the radar. Everybody who could shirk his rules deserved acknowledgement for putting up with this risk. Maybe he was finally realizing how much you had grown. You weren’t his little kitten anymore.

“No, not geezers, just one guy”, you corrected him: “But yes, that is true.”

You watched Tommy as he walked around the table, heading for the whiskey, while he nodded understandingly. “Mh, so you would say it’s love?”

A sign came from your lips. You already knew the answer, but you weren’t so sure, if you should say this out loud. After all, you didn’t even have a proper talk about this with Isaiah. Silence was filling the room, while you calculated your risks. If you said, you loved him and Isaiah wasn’t as serious about the relationship, you would look like an idiot. Good for you, he didn’t come to the betting shop to witness the fight between you and your brother. Finally you decided to tell everybody: “Yes, I do.”

“Good”, Tommy mumbled while he poured his whiskey: “Then you should have my blessing. Just give us the name now.” He took a sip and seemed to be amused by your embarrassment.

Talking about Isaiah, while he wasn’t present, was weird, but you knew why he stayed in the comfort of his own room. You weren’t mad at him for not running after you. This was your fight and not his. And after all your brothers were a little scary, when it comes to stuff like this.

But you had Tommy’s word now and nothing should happen to your man. You shrugged and rolled with your eyes. The fuss they made about this was still annoying.

Ada patted your shoulder and encouraged you to speak. “Do we know him?” The answer was yes, but it was also the reason, why you struggled to say it out loud.

Even John chimed in and kept pushing: “Yeah, what’s up with this fella?” He was smiling to let you know the mood had changed. Nobody was against you anymore.

“It’s…”, you started and fumbled for the seam of your dress: “It’s Isaiah.”

At first it was dead silence, while the others processed the information, then Arthur and John burst out in laughter. Finn seemed to be relieved, because he would have hated it to keep a secret like this. Your older sister was hugging you a little too tight and even Polly was smiling.

Tommy had a smug on his face when he muttered: “If that’s the case, then you should have your happiness.”

“Isaiah is a fine fella. You will be alright”, hummed Arthur. Apparently everybody was happy with your choice. You just had to stand up for yourself.

It felt like a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders and then you could laugh about it too. But suddenly you remember that Isaiah was still waiting for his death in his room. “I should go and let him of the hook”, you fluted and already went to the door when you heard Tommy said: “Don’t get pregnant or he has to marry you.”

#peaky blinders #peaky fucking blinders #peaky #peaky blinder fanfic #isiah jesus #isaiah jesus #daryl mccormack #peaky fookin blinders #tommy shelby #shelby sister #isiah x reader #isiah x you #fanfic #peaky blinders x sister!reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders x y/n

[all-hail-the-witcher]

5 times geralt wrote jaskiers name wrong on his coffee cup plus 1 time he didnt need to: part 1

its @natskier‘s birthday and hhh nat fucking slaps and her birthday fic accidentally became a 5+1 and yeah. here's part 1. 

___

ship: geraskier, modern

warnings: lamberts a bitch, geralt has feelings, jaskiers a little shit

editing: yes

words: 1.1k

genre: slow burn adjacent cause the boys are hella fucking impatient oops

___

“Geralt! Get your bitch ass up here and work the register!”

Geralt didn't even bother opening the door of the breakroom. “Fuck your boyfriend when you’re not on the clock!”

The door to the breakroom swung open and a very disgruntled Lambert glared down at him, arms crossed over his chest. One of his bright red curls fell out of his bun and hit him in the eye. Geralt had to hold his hand in front of his mouth to stop himself from laughing.

“If you paid attention, you’d know that Aiden is out of town. I’m going to the bank to get change you fucking piss biscuit.” Lambert pointed at him angrily. “If you burn the place down it’s coming out of your damn paycheck.”

Geralt groaned as the door slammed shut behind Lambert, but he still got up and walked begrudgingly to the front. Getting fired by his father would have been nothing short of embarrassing.

He made sure that his apron was tied correctly as he walked up to the register. Eskel was making the drinks, which was the job that Geralt usually preferred because it involved less interaction with the customers. But Lambert really hadn’t given him much of an option.

The bell above the door chimed and Geralt put on his best customer service smile.

“Hi, welcome to Kaer for More Coffee, what can I get for you?”

“Just a black coffee. Large. Dark roast”

Geralt punched the order into the register without looking up. Then he grabbed a cup off of the stack, pulled the sharpie from behind his ear and scribbled the order on the side. The routine was so familiar he could probably do it in his sleep. Not that he would ever admit that though because then Lambert would definitely try to get him to do it.

“Name?” he asked, still not looking up.

Whatever the customer said got lost in the noise of the shop.

“Could you repeat that?” Geralt asked, looking up for the first time and holy fuck.

The man standing at his register was abso-fucking-lutely gorgeous. He had dark brown hair that was falling in his bright blue eyes and the little smile on his face that showed off his dimples made Geralt nearly melt. It took all of his willpower to not drop the cup in his hand and keep his eyes on the man’s face instead of the bit of chest hair peeking out from his scandalously unbuttoned, peach colored shirt. It was almost like he was tryingto make him swoon.

“Jasper.”

Or at least that was what Geralt thought that he said. Eskel chose that exact moment to knock over a sack of espresso beans.

Geralt clumsily scrawled his name on the cup. Seeing that Eskel was otherwise occupied and he didn't want to keep the attractive man waiting, Geralt went to grab him his coffee. It wasn't like there were any other customers waiting.

Geralt filled the cup, double and triple checking that he had the right roast before sliding the order across the counter.

“Jasper!” he called out.

The attractive man was standing on his phone, not making any move to come and get his coffee.

“Jasper!” Geralt called out again, hoping to get his attention.

Still nothing. The man was scrolling like his life depended on it and it honestly didn't help that he had the cutest look of concentration on his face: slightly furrowed brows and an adorable frown line creasing his forehead.

“Hey,” Geralt said. “Your coffee’s ready.”

This time the man looked up, slightly surprised to see Geralt holding out the cup.

“Is that mine?” He asked, gesturing to the cup.

Geralt nodded. “Large black dark roast.”

“But you didn't call out my name,” the man said, crossing his arms.

“Yes I did.” Geralt cocked his head in confusion. “Twice.”

The man took the cup from him skeptically, spun it until he could see the name that Geralt had written on it and laughed.

“Well darling,” he said. “I didn't respond because my name isn't Jasper.”

Geralt spluttered, momentarily distracted by the fact that such an attractive person had just called him darling. He tried desperately to ignore the swell of heat in his stomach. “But you said-”

“I didn't say Jasper.” The man took a sip of his coffee and tried and failed not to wince. Geralt didn't blame him. Black coffee was terrible. “I guess I’ll just have to come back tomorrow and remedy this issue, won’t I, uh,” the man squinted at his name tag, “Gerald.”

“That’s not-”

“Oh I know,” the man smiled, taking another large gulp of his disgusting coffee. This time he couldn't hide the wince at all. “I’ll get your name right when you get mine right.”

And then he had the audacity to turn and walk out of the shop. Without putting any milk or sugar in his coffee, Geralt couldn't help but note.

Geralt stared transfixed at the door that the man had just walked out of. What the hell had just happened?

Unluckily for him, he didn't have much time to ponder that because Lambert walked through the very same door not two seconds later.

“What happened, pretty boy?” Lambert asked, opening the drawer of the cash register and putting in the change that he had gotten. “Did that door tell you that your hair looks terrible straightened? Cause I’ve been telling you that for at least the last three years.”

Geralt opened his mouth to respond but Eskel beat him to it.

“A hot guy came in and ordered and Geralt wrote his name wrong on the cup.”

Geralt turned away from the door to hide his blush. The way that Eskel said it made it sound so much worse than it was. It had been an honest mistake! It wasn't his fault that Eskel had dropped the damn espresso beans right when he had said his name!

Lambert tisked disapprovingly. “Of course the one time you manage to find someone who actually likes that mop on your head, you don't even manage to learn his name. Now I can’t stalk him on Instagram! Geralt, you really need to be more considerate of these things.”

Geralt threw an empty cup at him.

“Fuck off, you know I’m right!” Lambert groaned. “And I could get you written up for harassment in the workplace! What if you injured me and I couldn't work anymore, huh?”

“Lamb, it was a paper cup,” Geralt sighed. “And considering our dad is our boss, he would have seen straight through your dramatics.”

Thankfully, any further retorts from Lambert were cut off by the bell above the door ringing.

“Hi, welcome to Kaer for More Coffee what can….”

Geralt used the distraction to slip back into the break room. He still had another 10 minutes left on his break and he fully intended to use them to mope over the fact that an attractive man had shown actual interest in him and he’d somehow managed to not get his name.

Lambert would never let him live this down.

___

hehehehe :)) dumbasses

tag list: (inbox me to be added)

@percy-jackson-is-sexy-

@barlowpng

@eminasan

@llamasdumpsterfire

@nonegenderleftpain

@geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde

@geekymagicalpotato

@jaskierswolf

@toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account

@toss-a-coin-to-your-lesbian

@littleredhotridinghood

@fontegagrilledcheese

@acemoppet

@lookatgeraltmyboi​

@gods-oopsie-woopsie​

@julek

@funkylittlebard

@dani-dandelino

@officerjennie

@kuripon

@alllthequeenshorses

@mothmanismyuncle

@dapandapod

#the witcher #witcher #witcher fic #witcher fanfic #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier fanfic #geralt #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #modern geraskier #saph scribbles

[the-blind-assassin-12]

The Cold Offends Me

PART OF THE VIPER & THE WILD THING COLLECTION  

A/N: Until like three days ago I had no plans to ever write for Oberyn Martell. But we all know what happens to plans whether you make them or not so here we are. (also, at least 45% of the blame for this is on @something-tofightfor who relentlessly bombarded me with Oberyn gifs one night until I had no choice but to start daydreaming.) Anyway! This will not be a chapter series that follows a plot as much as it will be a collection of related one-shots. I have two more that are brewing on the back burner, but for the most part, this “series” is entirely open to requests and prompts, so if there is anything you’d like to see from this pairing, please feel free to visit my inbox! 

Warning: sex, mention of non-consensual sex, language. THIS IS A SMUT if you are a youngin’ please click away. 

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Though you work in one of the nicer brothels in King’s Landing- it could be worse!- your life is not at all what you would have chosen for yourself. What happens when a request for warmth turns into an offer for much more? 

Seven fucking hells. 

From your place amongst the pillows, you watched the taught, sinewy muscles of his back and shoulders move as he leaned over to set his goblet down. A slight sheen of sweat clung to his body, the light from at least a dozen candles making him look even more like a statue carved from bronze or gold than a man made of blood and bone than he already did, and you couldn’t help the satisfied smile that crept over your lips knowing you had been the one to slick his skin that way. Glancing down at your chest though you saw that he had done the same to you, your soft flesh damp and shimmering in the flickering light. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to suppress a laugh from slipping out. It has been a while since the last time anyone’s… 

The sound of the silver cup making contact with the wooden table beside the bed cut your thoughts short as he turned back towards you. You had just enough time to see the darkness in his eyes ignite before his hands were clutching the sides of your face, fingers pushing through your hair as he pulled you into a kiss. He didn’t hold back a throaty sigh as he let you sample the sweet wine still coating his tongue. That’s not all that I taste. You grinned around the thought, a wave of warmth rolling through your belly as he flicked his tongue inside your mouth as though reminding you how that same motion felt when he had done it earlier, between your legs. A small moan made it passed your lips and beyond his as he dropped his lower half down over your hips. 

Gods, why can’t they all be like this? 

You had slept with highborn men before, but once they shed their fancy robes and embroidered silks they looked and felt the same as the common swine you regularly serviced, the only real difference being the smell. And not always. Some things even rosewater couldn’t help. This one though, he smelled of spice and citrus and something else you couldn’t quite place. Something enticing. Everything about him was enticing. 

It almost felt wrong, wanting him to touch you, to use up his body and yours until there was nothing left of either of you. In all the years you’d lived and worked there you couldn’t recall ever feeling anything but forced, false enthusiasm, your cheeks aching from all the strung up smiles. You couldn’t recall a single encounter in which you had chosen to stay mentally present for the duration. Yet since the Red Viper had arrived in King’s Landing a few days prior, you had made it your goal to commit every second spent with him coiled around you to memory, even if it meant sharing him with others. Words flew more swiftly than sparrows in the city, so you had already heard that the Prince and his entourage would be staying for roughly a month, a few weeks on either side of that rat Joffery’s wedding. You knew that if he continued to frequent the establishment as he had been, you’d have plenty of chances to work on that commitment. 

But if you were being honest with yourself, which you rarely were since lying made things more bearable in your line of work, you knew that it could never be enough. He’d fucked you three times already that night, and each time had been different, the man never repeating the same touch, changing his speed and pressure, using his teeth and tongue in bold ways that made you feel as though he was experimenting, using your body as a medium for his art. While you were more than willing to be both muse and material for him, you were less willing to think about what would happen when he left the wretched city. For as much opulence as there seemed to be an abundance of, King’s Landing, seven hells, all of Westeros didn’t have a single artisan who could compare to Oberyn Martell in this and likely many other regards. 

If he was going to be the first and only man who made you feel alive, like your desires mattered, like your body was in fact your own, then you wanted to make the most of it. Taking the waistband of his trousers in your hands, the material bunched tightly, you pulled him even closer, simultaneously grinding your hips up, fitting them against his like precisely placed pieces of a puzzle. 

“You don’t need to be shy with me,” he had told you and the others that he and Ellaria had chosen on their first visit. “We are all here for the same thing. So if you want something,” he had his right arm wrapped around the slender torso of his paramour, palming one of her supple breasts as he spoke. She nuzzled into his side but kept her eyes on you, watching as he reached to take you by the chin with his left hand, pulling you close enough to kiss but stopping with barely enough space between his lips and yours for air to pass between you. You gasped, chest heaving as he smiled salaciously down at you. “Take it.” 

That’s what you were doing now, taking what you wanted. 

He finally broke the kiss, but only to nudge your jaw with his nose, one hand moving your hair out of his way so that he could continue teasing you with the things his tongue could do. You slid your palms over his back, fingers finding the raised ridge of a long since healed scar midway down the right side of his spine. He had a few of them, but they were all old and faded, hard to find with your eyes, easy to feel as you touched him though. A jagged line like a bolt of lightning topped his right shoulder, a stippled round patch marked the outside of his left thigh, and there was a pair of red dots near his left wrist that looked like it had been left behind by a snakebite. All proof of how vividly he lived his life, unafraid of pain or danger, accepting and seeking out every challenge he could find, never compromising until he had squeezed every ounce of juice from each experience he had. 

You would let him squeeze you down to the pulp, gladly giving yourself to someone who actually appreciated the act. Someone who seemed to savor you and not just where inside your body you’d allow him. For Oberyn, there were no limits on your body. 

“Had I known there were precious treasures like you hidden up here in the North,” he purred into the crook of your neck as one hand followed its own agenda, roaming your rib cage, the other still stroking softly through your hair. “I would have made the trip much sooner, if only just to have you once.” Fuck. You didn’t doubt him, and that made it even more agonizing to hear. “You are not at all like any Northerner I’ve known.” 

You bit your bottom lip and let out a small breathy laugh. “True Northerners would be offended to hear you say that, you know. To them, we’re all Southerners.” 

Oberyn blew a puff of air through his lips. “And the cold offends me. I do not care if I offend the lords of ice and snow.” His attention was drawn to the circles he was tracing over your sternum with one bejeweled finger. “They are all so stiff. So frigid.” He flattened his palm over the area he’d just been focused on, deep brown eyes lifting to seek out yours. “Not like you.” 

“I am a whore, my prince,” you reminded him of your place playfully, combing your fingers through the crown of silvery strands that struck through the dark locks near his hairline. “I am paid to be warm.” 

“Is that so?” That menacing glint was back in his grin and you understood why he was associated with the viper, the predator striking with lightning speed and deadly venom just as he was now. One hand traveled down your body to tease the crease where your thigh met your hip, and you gasped involuntarily at the contact. “Then why are you so warm when I have not yet handed over a single gold coin?” He dragged his fingers down between your legs. His eyes narrowed, lips dropping open as he slipped one digit into you, seemingly enjoying the breathless sounds you made. 

Gods, he’s going to kill me. 

He didn’t wait for your answer, perhaps knowing already that you didn’t have one. Instead he touched his forehead to yours, his hair damp against your scalp. “Stay with me tonight.” It wasn’t an order or a demand, simply a confident request, one he had surely never been denied. “Keep me warm.” Adding a second finger, he swirled them in a slow circle and watched you writhe under his touch. “I miss the heat of the sun in Dorne.” Curling his pointer and middle fingers slowly, he went on. “I miss the beauty of the water gardens at Sunspear. But you,” he pulled his fingers from your body then, your hips lurching up to follow his hand. “You have the sun in you.” 

You felt completely helpless as you let out a whine at the sight of him licking clean the fingers he’d just had inside of you, the flutter of his eyelashes as he tasted you the only indication that he was even remotely close to cracking the same way that you were. “The sun?” You hummed as his touch returned, his other hand skimming across your skin. I hardly see the sun unless it’s through a shuttered window. “If you feel the sun when you’re with me my Prince, I can assure you it’s your doing.” 

You knew it was the truth and he didn’t argue with you. 

“Whatever the reason,” he assured you, “l have not been so warm since arriving in this pit of a city, and tonight I don’t want to be cold. Stay with me.”

Your heart slammed inside your chest as he made the request again, your throat tightening with how badly you wanted to say yes. Swallowing, you took a breath and steeled yourself to try to steer him away from the idea. A whole night of this… of him it’s too much. It will be too hard to... Shaking your head, you wet your lips and stretched them into a smile. “I’m sure you’re already sorely missed by someone else, my Prince. Someone who could keep you just as warm I’m sure.” 

You hadn’t been with Ellaria in any meaningful sense of the word- yes, you both had been present on their first day in King’s Landing, but she was preoccupied with some of the other girls while you and one of the young men spent time with Oberyn. But you didn’t need to have been with the woman to know what she was capable of, her ravenous appetite flashing in her eyes with the same intensity that you’d seen in the Prince’s. I’m sure she is-

“We are not each other’s property, Ellaria and I.” He crushed your thoughts, touch roaming your torso, grasping at your flesh to punctuate his words with physical meaning. “We don’t put limitations on what we allow ourselves to do when it comes to pleasure.” You fought to suppress a whimper as you felt his tongue and then his teeth nip at the juncture of your throat and shoulder. All of a sudden you felt him flip you around so your back was to him, his deft hands finding your waist and spinning you with ease. “We deny each other nothing when it comes to our desires.” Sliding both hands up to your chest, he gave a deliberate squeeze and rolled his hips into yours from behind you, pulling you backwards to eliminate any empty space that remained. “Do you understand what I am telling you?” 

“Yes,” the word came out in a breathy sigh, and you weren’t sure if you were answering him or reacting to the way that he was making you feel. 

“No.” He said it firmly but his tone had a hint of excitement. “No, I don’t think that you do.” He let one hand travel down your body to the apex of your thighs, his rings cool against your stomach, the smooth links of the chains and pendants he wore pressing into your back as you gasped. “But I’m going to make you understand.” 

—  —  —  —  

Some time later, after you’d acquiesced to his plea to join him through the entire night, the two of you lay draped over one another, spent but still soaking up as much contact as you could. He hadn’t taken his hands off of you for longer than it took to pour from the decanter of wine or reach for the washcloth in the basin next to the bed. He’d hardly taken his eyes off of you either, scanning every last bit of you. You were surprised when he started talking, asking you personal questions that had nothing to do with your body or his or what he wanted to do with and to and for you. 

“Where are you from then, if not the North?” His eyebrows came together in genuine curiosity as he asked the question. He didn’t look away from your collarbone as he waited for your response, watching his own thumb run along the ridge of it as though he were trying to memorize the place where it dipped into your throat. 

You hummed, unable to remember the last time you actually enjoyed being with one of your clients. But he’s not at all like them. No man you ever had the misfortune of having to fuck had ever asked you what your name was or where you were from or what you wanted from them. They were soldiers and sailors, gutter rats who knew you were one of them without having to ask. “I’m from right here,” you responded, combing your fingers through his hair before catching his earlobe and tugging to urge his mouth down to yours. 

He kissed you- gods, he kissed you like he intended to take you apart all over again using only his tongue- then pulled back and let his exploratory touch begin charting the valley of your chest. “Right here?” He asked, and you closed your eyes as you felt his warm breath hitting the skin he’d just been tracing. “King’s Landing, you mean?” 

Warmth pierced your abdomen as he dropped his lips to your body and you sucked in a breath. “Yes,” you answered, sounding every bit as desperate and dizzy as he was making you feel. You clenched a fistful of his hair, and the small rumble of a groan vibrated against your ribs before he dragged his lips towards one breast without lifting them away, licking at the goosebumps he was raising along his path. But that’s not really what I meant. “King’s Landing, yes, but-” 

He picked his head up then, resting his chin in the center of your chest, his meticulously groomed beard softer than you thought it would be as it brushed your flesh. “But?” He dropped his lips teasingly to your body, eyes still on you as he dared you to continue your sentence. 

He did ask. Since it was the first time anyone had, you figured you owed him a complete answer. “But I meant here,” you let your eyes roll around the room, at the windows draped in colorful fabrics, the tables laden with wine and exotic fruits, the walls, made to look like the building was a palace instead of the prison it had become. “Here, this brothel.” 

You tried to slip your other hand into his hair to join the first as you let your gaze fall back to him, but he caught your wrist and stopped you, reaching up to circle his long fingers around your other wrist as well. “What?” He moved back up the bed then to settle beside you, still holding your wrists. 

The sweep and press of his thumb over your pulse made you suck in a breath, and as you looked over at him, you saw a look of confusion and concern in his eyes. This isn’t what you pay for, Oberyn. Why are you doing this? You shook your head and tried for one of your practiced smiles. “This is my home. It’s where I…grew up. I was born here. My mother was a…” 

“A whore?” He supplied the word but didn’t fill it with the disdain and judgement that most did when they spat your title at you as a reminder of your place in the world. You knew that he didn’t put such meaning into words like whore or bastard. One was a profession, the other a term for a child born of passion, and in his eyes, in the eyes of the Dornish people, those things were not filth to be hidden or ashamed of. With the surname Waters, you fell into both categories. He let go of your far wrist, letting that hand drop to your bare stomach, but his thumb continued to run up and down over the veins of the one he still held. 

You nodded. “Yes. As soon as I was old enough, I worked in the kitchens, scrubbing dishes, cleaning bedding.” You watched his chest rise and fall as you spoke but felt his sharp eyes on your face. “When my mother became too… old to do her job, it became my responsibility to earn our keep. Now that it's just me I…” You shrugged. He asked, you reminded yourself again. “Well, I have no other… no skills or-” 

“You didn’t choose this?” He lifted the hand he had on your stomach to push a piece of hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing the outer helix and drifting down to the tender skin just beneath it. “You… wouldn’t choose this?” 

Despite the honesty in his question, the tingling sensation that his touch sent through your bones and the way he was looking at you, you had to laugh. “No,” you shook your head. “Some girls,” gesturing with one hand you twirled it and arched an eyebrow, “some boys? Some of them choose this. But I… was born into it.” 

You didn’t know what you expected to see on his face when you looked back up at him, but it certainly hadn’t been anger. Oh, I shouldn’t have- “That is unacceptable.” What? Before you could ask him to elaborate or try to de-escalate the conversation, turn it back towards pleasure like you’d been taught to, he had your face between his hands, your eyes locked with his. “Pleasure should not come at the cost of anyone’s freedom. You shouldn’t have to-” His nostrils flared slightly then and he took a breath through his nose, eyes falling closed briefly before opening again. “Come back to Dorne with Ellaria and I. Let me take you from here.” 

The thought of it was too good to entertain, too tempting to take seriously, and it made it too hard to breathe. You were property of Lord Petyr Baelish, it wasn’t that simple. Blinking away the shock of his request, you again tried to lighten things with a smile. “So I can be your pet down in Sunspear?” 

“No.” He leaned in and kissed you then, his top lip curling against yours before you felt his grip move to the back of your head and the side of your neck. “I would never put you in a cage like a pet,” he murmured into your mouth. “You are a wild thing. And if you came back with me,” he rubbed the tip of his nose along yours. “You could run as wild as you wanted. Completely untethered.” 

“No one is completely free in Westeros.” You couldn’t help the slight sadness from entering your tone as you told him the truth about your home. 

“They are in Dorne,” he promised.

“And if I came to Dorne,” you mused, playing with the still open drawstring of his trousers, “would I be confined to the water gardens? What would you require of me?” 

“Nothing.” He answered with a shake of his head. “Wild spirits cannot be tamed. When they are, they turn sad, resentful. They grow bitter. They die.” Staring into your eyes, you felt the earnest truth in his words. “I would only hope that with your freedom you would choose to return to me.” 

If there was a free soul in existence who wouldn’t return to him, they were out of their minds. 

“I would return to you as often as you’d have me.” Your breathless response came quicker than you would have liked, but what he was offering you was so tempting even your cautious attempts at reigning in your enthusiasm weren’t enough and you cursed yourself for it. “But what about…” you let out a breath and waved a hand around the room. “What about Lord Baelish? What about-“ 

“I told you already,” he brought a finger up and laid it on top of your still swollen, wine stained lips. “I take what I want. And what I want is to see you as free as you were meant to be.” He leaned in to press his lips to yours, his finger still stuck between. “So you leave that to me, Wild one. Now,” he brought his hand down to wrap around your wrist, pulling you into the bend in his arm. “Show me how you stay warm up here in the North.” 

.

.

.

THANK YOU FOR READING! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tag list please feel free  to let me know. And like I said up top: if you have any requests or ideas that you would like to see for these two, send an ask and I will see what I can do! 

tags: @something-tofightfor @gollyderek @pheedraws​ @valkblue​ @alraedesigns​ @beefcakebarnes​

#oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x ellaria sand #pedrostories #oberyn martell fanfic #pedro pascal characters #the viper & the wild thing #TV&TWT #the cold offends me #oberyn martell #game of thrones #got fanfic #got fanfiction #the red viper #smut #its a smut #how could i not kick it off with a smut for the prince of passion?

[probsjosh]

Bumblebee

Schlatt Coin origin story. 

Dad!Schlatt x reader but I made it fuckin sad.

edit: I fucking forgot to mention this is GN!Reader I'm such an idiot

Warning: mentions of alcohol, cheating/affairs, abandonment, gambling, not explicit but reference to murder, angst (if there’s anything else I missed please tell me)

So uh, Dad!Schlatt angst aye?

_________________________________________

It had been a great Friday afternoon. Schlatt decided he’d wanted to take you, his spouse, and son out for the day to have some fun, going to having lunch, then visiting the local ice cream shop before stopping at an arcade to spoil Tubbo for the night. It was rare for your family of three to have these outings but it made it all that much more special when you had the time and money to do so. 

After playing and collecting tickets for the better part of two hours, Tubbo had finally scrounged up just enough tickets to get the giant bee plushie he’d been eyeing all year. It was bigger than his torso, square-shaped, and undeniably adorable. What was even more adorable was this pudgy little three-year-old waddling his way up to the prize counter, holding an unreasonable amount of tickets in his arms. There’s a small moment of panic when he realizes he can’t quite reach the top of the counter when his dad comes to the rescue, lifting him up so he can open his arms and let the tickets fall in front of the impressed employee. 

“Gimme da bee,” Is all he says, his contagious laughter ringing out as the bee is retrieved and handed over to the giddy child. “Tank you!” is all the employee gets before he buries his face into the plush. Schlatt laughs and hugs him tighter, he kisses his forehead as you look at them awestruck, a loving smile on your face. It was moments like these that reminded you how much you loved your family. Tubbo managed to peel himself away from his newfound love long enough to yell at you, “Look! I got da bee! Look!” You laugh as you come closer to them, pressing a kiss onto Tubbos forehead, “My little Bumblebee has his own bumblebee!” His little giggles muffled by the bee as he nods, “I got a bumby bee!”

Once you were all back home, there was a knock at the door. You were sitting in the bathroom with Tubbo, who was enjoying a bubble bath, so Schlatt went to answer the door. There was some muffled talking before he appeared in the bathroom doorway. “I’m gonna go out to the casino with the boys for a while. Think you can survive a few hours without me?” Tubbo emerges from his mountain of bubbles, giggling before he dove back in, “I think we’ll be okay,” you laugh as your son piles the bubbles onto his head like a hat. Schlatt smiles and gives you a quick kiss before heading out. “Don’t get too shit-faced!” you call after him, you hear a soft, “I’ll try!” before the door shuts. 

He apparently didn’t try hard enough. He stumbles in the front door at 4 a.m. reeking of booze, the lingering smell of cigarette smoke staining his clothes. You came downstairs to help him into the bathroom. “I think-” he hiccups as you sit him on the rim of the bathtub, “I think I got a little too shit-faced.” He smiles apologetically, swaying lightly, before reaching into his pocket, “I made some money though.” You smile back, but chastise him for drinking and coming home late anyways, but you knew he probably didn’t mean to get as drunk as he did and it seemed like he’d had fun.

It wasn’t a problem at first. At first, it was just a weekend a month. Then one weekend became two, became every other week, became if he wasn’t at work, he was at that damn casino, became you weren’t even sure if he still had a job. You weren’t even sure when it started but you very quickly realized what a problem it had become. Schlatt was never home. And if he was he would only appear to drop off a wad of cash, give Tubbo a hug, try to show you any semblance of affection which you outright rejected, and he’d be out the door again. You’d stopped trying to keep him at home, seeing as he’d just disappear no matter what you told him, no matter how much you asked for him to stay, he never did. 

Your breaking point was when Tubbo just stopped asking where his dad was. It was almost as if he’d forgotten who his father was, and the only person to blame was Schlatt. So one night you asked your neighbors if they could watch Tubbo for just a little while, they agreed, and you were off to the casino to drag your alcoholic, gambling addict of a husband back home. 

It wasn’t difficult to spot him in public, his ram horns like a crown atop his head made him a beacon for attention, and he was definitely getting it. He sat at a Roulette table, a rather large crowd gathered around him, towers of chips in front of him, one arm slung around some twink, the other arm knocking over towers of chips to signify him placing his bet. He was always one to put on a show. 

“Always bet on black!” he shouted, and the crowd around him roared, as the dealer pushed his newly won earnings towards him. He took a sip of his drink before he leaned down and kissed the man pressed against his side. 

That made you see red. 

You stormed over, the crowd parting like the red sea at the sight of your fury until you were met with JSchlatt himself. “Hey, what happened...” was all he could say before he turned to see you standing there in front of him, furious and heartbroken. 

“How could you?” You sounded so angry at first. “How fucking could you.” But it melted away into sorrow. The tears flowed down easily, you didn’t bother trying to hide how much he’d hurt you. But after months of never seeing him at home, did you really think he would remain faithful to you? Did the thought of Schlatt living out of a casino, on a never-ending gambling train, never make you think that he was doing something, or rather someone, else?

    No. In all honesty, it hadn’t. You’d been naive enough to trust the man with the Devil’s Horns with every aspect of yourself, thinking that maybe if you loved him enough, he’d love you just the same. And as you stood in front of the man you once called the love of your life. The father to your gorgeous child. The man that promised to love you till the end of your days. 

You saw the pure horror in his eyes. 

   

Not the shame you’d expected, nor the anger at the fact that he’d been caught. He was terrified. Of what, you couldn’t be sure and you honestly didn’t care. Anger clouded your judgment, as you saw him take a step towards you, an arm extended out to reach for you. You swatted his hand away and sobbed. Hot, angry tears streamed down your face as you yelled. Profanities, curses to his name, wishes that you’d never met the wretched man, and he was so taken aback, he stumbled back and into the table. Every single one of his chip towers fell, the dealer didn’t bat an eye and accepted his entire haul as a bet. Schlatt realized too late as he turned to see the wheel spin.

Red, 16.

You’d stopped yelling by now, trying to collect yourself, as you felt both his hands clamp onto your arms, “Honey, darling, I’m gonna need you to listen to me, okay?” You tried to pull away, fighting against his grip, but he apparently wasn’t as drunk as he made it out to seem. “Please, I know I fucked up, just please for the love of God listen to me for just one fucking second.” 

The urgency and desperation in his voice caught your attention and you knew he was being serious. You stopped fighting in his grip and met his gaze. 

“I need you to go home. I need you to take Tubbo, take any cash you have left, and nothing else. And I need you to run. As far and as fast as you can. Do you understand me?” The fear in his eyes suddenly made sense as you nodded twice. He let out a choked breath before he whispered, “I’m so sorry,” as he let go of you. You didn’t say anything in return, only giving him one last look of pained understanding as you turned on your heel and ran as fast as you could.

Schlatt stood there, staring at the spot where the love of his life had stood. He closed his eyes, trying to stop the tears from coming down when he heard the awfully familiar voice of the casino owner as he walked onto the floor. As it turns out, Schlatt had been in that casino 24/7 because he owed someone powerful a lot, and I mean a lot, of money. “JSchlatt. Friend. We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” Schlatt flinches as he feels Dreams' hand land on his shoulder. He opens his eyes, the shit-eating grin he’d come to perfect settling on his face so fucking naturally, as he turned to face his demon. “Dream! Ah! What a lovely surprise-” 

“Cut the shit Schlatt. What the hell just happened to my money.” It's not a question. He knows what happened, he just wants to see Schlatt squirm. 

"I can— I can get it all back. I promise. I promise— please just," he swallows what little pride he has left and he begins to unravel in front of Dream, "Just leave my spouse and kid alone." Dream tsks and looks Schlatt over once, pausing for just a second before he sighs and reaches into his pocket.

 He takes Schlatts wrist and presses a single gold coin into his palm, closing the drunks fist around it. Schlatt, grateful for this second chance, almost sighs in relief, but before he can, Dream speaks again, "Your last coin, Schlatt. Be smart with it." Immediately Dreams lackeys rush past them, out the door, and into the night looking for blood. Schlatt realizes far too late. "NO—" Dreams grip on his wrist tightens, as Schlatt stumbles and falls in front of him. 

“I told you Schlatt. There would be a price to pay.”

 Schlatt finally breaks in front of Dream, gripping the coin in his hand, as he screams for the family he knows he's already lost.

You stumbled up to your neighbor’s door, slamming your fists repeatedly on their front door before a panicked woman opened the door. It was well into the night at this point, and you’d feel much more sympathy for her if the fear and adrenaline course through you weren’t making you as panicked as she looked. You rushed pasted her, picking Tubbo up from where he lay sleeping, thanked her profusely before you apologized, and bolted out of her house. You gripped Tubbo to your chest as you ran down the street and into the city, pasted closed shops, and speeding cars. Tubbo never once stirring from his slumber, his little arms wrapped around his bee plush, his blanket catching all your tears as you bolted haphazardly through the city.

You didn't know much about the man who ran the casino but you knew what happened to the people that crossed him.

You didn't have it in you to outright hate Schlatt for this. It may have been his actions that lead to this but it was obvious he never meant to put either you or Tubbo in harm’s way. The look on his face was enough to tell you he still loved you with every fiber of his being but that was not enough to excuse him for what he'd done. You didn’t think you’d ever forgive him for what he’d done to you and Tubbo, but you knew that didn’t matter now. What mattered was making sure Tubbo was safe.

You came across an alleyway that went into the forest bordering the city. You knew there was only so much you could do in the city, so you chose to gamble your chances in the woods. After hours of dodging trees, bushes, and boulders, getting as far away from the sounds of the men coming after you as you could, you manage to find yourself on the other side of the forest. The sun was rising in the distance as you came to a clearing. A road that lead out of the city and into the undeveloped land surrounding it. 

Then you spot it.

A box. A simple box sitting on the side of the lonely road leading out of the city. As you got closer the words "FREE ITEMS" written on the side in bold black marker made it clear that this was a donation box. You knew this is Tubbos’ only chance. Frantically, you search the box and luckily find the very marker used to write on the box that had been tossed in by its original owner. You carefully lower Tubbo into the box, uncap the marker and on the inside flap quickly scribble "His name is tubbo, take care of him, please.”

You don't even realize you're crying until your vision is too blurry to see the words. You hear a shout coming from the woods and you know you have to go. Suppressing your sobs, you quickly press a kiss into his forehead for the last time, "Goodbye my little Bumblebee." A sad smile comes onto your features as you close the flaps of the box enough to hide him before turning back into the forest and running in without looking back. A newfound determination in you as you make as much noise as you can, hoping that they would be satisfied in only killing you and leave your baby alone.

A few hours pass and there are screams coming from within the forest that are abruptly cut off. Tubbo stirs in his box and awakens as the sun comes up, spilling into his new temporary home. He sits up, confused and alone when he hears a voice coming up the road. Fear gets the better of him and he ducks down into the box as he hears a small voice yell, "Dadza! Dadza! Can I check what’s inside that box?" There’s a low chuckle, and a soft, "Sure son, go ahead," before Tubbo can hear small footsteps quickly approaching him.

Tubbo grips his plushie as he hears the small footsteps slow down, before stopping completely. Suddenly the box flaps open and a little blonde boy’s head pokes out over the edge, blue eyes peering down at him. A moment passes as both boys stare at each other in confusion before the blonde boy calls out again.

"Daaaaad! There's a baby in the box!" The heavy footsteps stop suddenly. "A what?" The footsteps start up again, and suddenly a man in a green and white striped bucket hat appears. Confusion turns to worry, as the man’s eyes settle on the message scribbled into the box. “So. Tubbo? Is it?” 

Tubbos’ grip on his plushie becomes even tighter, but he nods slowly, eyes dancing between the boy and the man. “Well, Tubbo. Guess I’m your dad now. My name is Philza,” he gestures to the boy, “and this is Tommy.” Tubbos eyes meet Tommys, and Tommy grins at the boy in front of him. “Hi, Tubbo! You’re gonna be my best friend!” At these words, Tubbo smiles and stands in his box, dropping his bee in favor of hugging Tommy. “Hi, Tommy.” Is all he says as Tommy hugs Tubbo back. Philza smiles at the boys in front of him, unable to find it in him to worry about how his twins would react to the family’s new addition.

Back in the city, Schlatt stumbles back home for the first time in weeks, being greeted by a cold and silent house. He shuts the door behind him and slumps down onto the floor. A bottle of Jack Daniels already half-empty meets his lips as he begins to cry again. Longing for the family that he lost the moment he struck that stupid deal with Dream. His fingers play with the singular gold coin he has to his name. 

Schlatts coin.

Bonus:

He liked to walk the length of the city during the day. The sights and sounds were enough to drown out his hungover thoughts. He'd be sober for most of the day before he returned to the casino to drown his sorrow in liquor, but for now he could relish in the warm sun as he came to the edge of the city. There was a playground near where the forest and city collided that he usually avoided, in fear of breaking down over hearing the children's laughter, but for some reason today he felt nostalgia for the happy times he'd once had.

He walks the sidewalk, tears coming to his eyes as his guilt comes crashing back. Coming to a bench, he sits down, hands cradling his head, as he tries to get a hold of himself together. Suddenly he hears him. He hears his son shouting, "Dad! Dad!" followed by his laughter. 

Thinking he'd finally gone insane, he looks up expecting to see some random kid yelling for their father. Instead he's met with the sight of his Tubbo running around the playground as fast as his little feet will carry him, giggling as a little blonde boy chases him. "Tub-Tubbo?" his own words are nothing but whispers, but his son is shouting, "Dad!" another giggle, "Dadza! Dadza!" a man with large black wings stands from his bench to catch Tubbo as he launches himself into his arms, "Tommy's chasing me! He's chasing me!" the man laughs as the other boy, presumably Tommy, runs into the man's legs, "We're playing tag dummy! I'm supposed to chase you!" the three laugh as the man sits down once again, Tubbo still in his arms, and Tommy clambers onto the bench as well. 

Schlatts face is wet with tears. He's alive. Tubbo was alive. His son was alive and happy and‐ and without him. Without his parents. Grief rocks Schlatts body once more, a single sob escaping him before he rubs his eyes, takes 3 deep breaths, and collects himself.

What mattered here was that Tubbo was safe. He was alive. And he was happy. Schlatt stands, sparing a final glance at his son, silently thanking the man for taking him in, and he begins to walk away without turning back. 

Tubbo turns in time to see a man with ram horns turn the corner as he walks away. "....dad?" his smile dropped as he pulled away from Phil, walking to where he saw the man. "Tubbo? What's wrong?" Phil asked, the concern evident in his voice. Tubbo says nothing and instead makes his way over to the sidewalk, Phil and Tommy close behind. 

As he stepped into the middle of the walkway he saw no one. His little eyebrows knit together as he turns back to face them. "I thought… I thought I saw my dad...but I haven't seen him in so long- it probably wasn't even him." There's an odd mixture of emotion laced in his words as they make their way back to the bench. "'M sorry Tubbo. Do you want to go back home?" Tubbo nods, taking Phil's hand and Tommy goes over and grabs Tubbos' other hand. He smiles at the younger boy, and Tubbo finds it in him to smile back. 

As they begin their trek home Tubbo thinks about the man he saw, and how he could've sworn he recognized his horns.

He could've sworn he recognized his dad's horns.

#c!schlatt #dad!schlatt #dad!schlatt x reader #tubbo #tubbox #angst #dreamsmp #mcyt #dream smp #jschlatt #x reader #jschlatt x reader #c!schlatt x reader #Angst but with a semi happy ending? #like its canon but it still hurts #probsjosh writes #tubbo is baby #baby!Tubbo #Tommy and Phil are here too #Dadza #Dadza my beloved #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #dad!schlatt x gn!reader