#he's not even soaking wet and pathetic he's dried off now so he's like

[likesummerrainn]

#aewedit #aew dynamite #jay white #my gifs #marie #he's not even soaking wet and pathetic he's dried off now so he's like #damp half dry and pathetic looking #look at his hair. frizzy and frazzled. #love watching him win but love watching him lose MORE

[swampstew]

Can I request Buggy with Fluff N3 for the event? Thank you!! ❤️❤️❤️

Hello anon❤️ Thank you for your submission and patience! I hope you get a chance to read this :) You requested fluff, subtle intimacy, and I give you: [ Simple Touches ] Bandaging/stitching up an injury

Oh Captain, My Captain Buggy

Warnings: None. Fluff and cute stuffs. Ended up sorta sweet n' romantic in a way I wasn't anticipating but Buggy deserves it tbh, cutie but wet n' pathetic King of the Pirates❤️ Word count: 1.1K

“OOOOOWWWWW!”

You push through the pained howls of your Captain as you stitch up his latest injuries. For a man who had eaten the chop-chop fruit, he sure got brutally chopped up by other people more than he should reasonably be.

To be fair, his latest network of contacts involved some intense and no-nonsense individuals. Two in particular who seem to have a rather tight hold on his gorgeous blue head as he did their bidding and processed their contracts.

“DAMNIT Y/N that HURTS!” Buggy hollers at you, tears spilling down his face in pure agony. It makes your heart break. Still you push on.

“It will hurt more if it festers and worsens. Then we’d have to seriously chop pieces off you,” you chide him gently, done with pushing the needle through the tail end of the long gash on his chest. “This is going to sting a bit but I’ll count down from 3. 3—” you tightened the sutures securely before he could hold his breath.

“YYYYEEEEOOOOOWWWW!!!!” his head flew from his neck, as did his hands and feet from his body. “GRR!! YOU ENJOYED THAT TOO MUCH!” he spit at you.

You give him an unimpressed look, “You know that that’s not true. Now get back here. You have some wounds on your face and right hand that need to be disinfected and bandaged. If you can make it through without any complaints, I’ll give you a treat. Sound good?”

His head reattaches to his head but his hand floats down to grip his chin, “A treat? What kind of treat?”

“A nice one. We got a deal?”

With a nod, Buggy reassembles himself and sits still as you inspect each cut and bruise. Washing away the dirt and dried blood, applying a salve on the wounds, and wrapping each one in a bandage or long, woven cotton wrap to soak up any leaking from the cuts. A hushed song brews in your throat and without realizing it, you start to emit the tune from your lips as you patch him up.

Buggy watches you closely as you lightly hum to yourself while you work. Normally, he would literally talk his ass off about anything and everything – but watching you treat him so tenderly has his mouth dry and his mind quiet. Trying to understand the feelings in his chest that you cause him to have with your firm but kind personality. Not understanding why you treat him with such dignity and warmth despite his antics; you’re one of the few people who sees through his bullshit but you also accept it, encourage it even. In his brain playing back all his interactions with you over the last year that you’ve been on his crew to better understand what your deal is.

His eyes bug out of his head for a moment, a memory unearthing itself. With Alvida.

“I think the new doc likes you, Bugs,” she tilted her cowboy covered head at Buggy. When he gave her a confused look, she scoffed and used her head to gesture at you sitting at the bar with his most trusted men. “You’re telling me that you’ve NEVER noticed how much time they manage to spend with you, or how they always talk you up? That they know almost everything about you that not even your own crew knows about?” Buggy scoffed, “Most of my crew are idiots, why would I tell those morons anything?” Alvida gave him a bewildered look, “Then why do you share anything with the doc?” “I don’t share EVERYTHING!” “Oh no? So you haven’t spilled to them how Emperor Shanks is the only man you can respect as the next King of the Pirates?” His hands flew to her face and smothered her speech, “QUIET YOU DAMN WOMAN!”

Buggy felt like an idiot.

That was maybe three months ago.

“All done. You should heal up in no time but if you feel worse, you know where to find me.”

Buggy brought his hand to the back of his neck, “Yeah. Sure.” He wasn’t sure how to pivot from being a crybaby patient to a flashy guy with rizz when he suddenly felt…overly aware of how he acts around you. To be perceived by you and now knowing that you were perceiving him.

“Wh-where’s my treat?”

“Oh that’s right I do owe you a nice one. Wait right here.”

His mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to plan, trying to scheme a charming personality in 2-seconds flat as he watches you go to your desk and pull out a dark bottle. Buggy didn’t notice how attractive your face is as he did just now. He always thought you were the most attractive in the crew in general, but now he was seeing your face. And he found that…he actually quite liked it.

Your step falters are you become aware of his intense stare. You feel…insecure suddenly. Is there something gross on your face or scrubs? Does he not like liquor suddenly? Oh no, is your hair messy?? With a trembling hand you tuck some loose hair behind your ear and lightly touch your scrub as you present the bottle.

“An aged rum that I nicked from our last raid. I hear it’s a grossly expensive brand.”

Buggy took the bottle and rolls it in his hands quietly, not saying anything at all. You watch him nervously, anxiety eating at your gut, a hot flush spreading behind your ears and the back of your neck. You know for a fact that Buggy likes expensive things, no matter what it is. Even if he hates what it actually is, like that time he tried bull fighting fish caviar. He was laid up in your office for a week after that one. He still keeps a preserved jar around, just so he can say he has it on hand.

“I hear it goes well with steak, or something,” you mumble, confidence draining away slowly.

He perks up to that, “Steak? Oh yeah, yes that does sound like a good pairing.” He stands up from the cot and shifts on his feet.

Buggy the Star Clown is shooting his shot.

“If I make Cabaji cook up a few steaks, would you…be interested in joining me for dinner? A flashily impromptu date?”

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, that being the last thing you expect to hear from him. You had been certain that you would have to ask him out yourself with all the hints and nudges you gave him in the past seemed to go, well, right over his head.

“Oh! Y-yes that sounds nice!”

Smiling, Buggy turns to exit. Passing through the threshold he turns back to add, “I’ll pick you up at your cabin later. Escort you to the dining hall and all that jazz.” He ducks out of the room.

You’re glad he isn’t there anymore because your knees weaken and you grab the cot in support. Thrilled, you look at your schedule and decide to close up early. The injured would have to stay injured on their time, you had an important date tonight.

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #oh captain my captain mini event #eustasscaptainkid #swampstew bedtime stories #swampstew #swampstew stories #anon asks #buggy the star clown #captain buggy

[earlgreydream]

𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞. || 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

a little bit of soft!eddie comfort for when we’re all missing him 🖤

“eddie, pick up, pick up, pick up,” you whispered into the phone, leaning against the wood-paneled wall.

you squeezed your eyes shut, tears leaking from your lashes as you waited for eddie to answer the phone.

“hello?” his tired voice surrounded you, instantly calming the waves of anxiety.

“eddie, can you come get me?” you sniffled, begging your boyfriend to come save you.

“yeah, of course. I’ll be right there, princess. are you at home?” eddie was on the other line, grabbing the keys to his van and shoving his feet into busted up chuck taylor’s.

“yeah, I’m home.”

“i’m on my way.”

you hung the phone up on the wall, trying to control your pathetic sobs as you anxiously awaited Eddie’s arrival. your family was off on vacation, leaving you alone in the house during a raging thunderstorm. you didn’t like them on the best of days, and the branches of the tree outside smacking against your window was miserable.

you had tried to be brave, tried to get some sleep, but it was nearly eleven when you called eddie, desperate to not be alone in your big, empty house.

.

you ran quickly across the gravel, swinging into his open passenger side before the rain could soak through your clothes. his big brown cow eyes searched your face, filled with concern as his hand came to your cheek.

“you alright?” eddie’s thumb brushed a tear from your cheek, gazing into your sad eyes.

“I am now,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, breathing in the familiar scent of smoke and soap.

you laid down across the bench seat of the van, your head on eddie’s thigh as he drove slowly through the storm, back to his little trailer park. he had one hand petting your hair, the other resting on the top of the wheel as he took you to his home, far away from your big empty house.

you followed him out of the truck, squealing as he struggled with the keys, the door being stubborn.

“eddie!”

“I know princess, I’m sorry, it’s this fucking lock!” he apologized, his voice carrying away in the wind as the rain soaked you down to your bones.

his laughter warmed your heart as he finally forced the door open, pulling you inside with him.

“christ, it’s cold!” you giggled against his lips as he kissed you sweetly, squeezing your hips.

“I’ll kick on the furnace. you can wear something of mine,” he mumbled, smearing a kiss over your forehead.

you went to his bathroom, finding a towel and stripping out of your wet clothes. eddie knelt by the little fireplace, lighting it as you turned on his shower, waiting for the water to warm up.

“eddie, come get in with me,” you whined to him, motioning for the boy to join you.

“I’m already wet.”

“no, to warm up, silly,” you hummed, letting the hot water soak your hair and trail over the curves of your body.

he couldn’t resist, pulling off his ruined clothes as he made his way to you, his skin cold against your own. he held your jaw, dragging you into a rather forceful kiss, needing to touch you, to feel that you were okay after hearing the fear in your voice through the phone.

“thanks for picking me up,” you spoke as he massaged shampoo through your hair, his fingers doing wonders on your scalp.

“anytime. what had you so upset?” eddie questioned, carefully guiding your head under the stream, washing the suds from your locks.

“I got scared to be all alone in that big empty house. couldn’t sleep in the storm,” you grew shy, feeling like a child as you realized how ridiculous you’d been.

eddie kissed the top of your nose, enjoying the hot water a little bit longer before the two of you dried off.

“honey, where’s your ccr shirt?“ you questioned, ruffling through his drawers.

“I think it’s in the wash; take this instead, here,” he held a different top open for you, slipping it over your head.

eddie smiled, seeing you in the hellfire shirt, too big on your frame. it was his favorite, even more so on you, and you felt so special wearing the homemade shirt. you pushed up on your toes, pecking his soft lips before making your way to his bed, the room warm from the fire in the hearth.

“feeling sleepy?” eddie asked, pouring you a glass of water and setting it on the milk crate that served as a bedside table.

“only a little bit. can we put something on?”

you sank down into his massive pile of pillows, digging your way under the mismatched quilts thrown over his mattress, your legs stretching out on his soft sheets.

eddie squatted in front of his little television box, hair pulled into a bun and in black sweats, looking much less menacing than usual. he sifted through VHS tapes, finding John Carpenter’s Halloween and popping it in.

he found his way behind you, settling your body between his legs with your back on his chest, head nestled perfectly under his chin. his arms were warm around you, his fingers tracing the back of your hand under the blankets.

“comfy?”

you hummed happily, feeling him smile against the side of your head. a low boom of thunder rolled over his home, mixing with the familiar theme of the slasher movie playing quietly on his television. before dating eddie, you would have objected to drifting off to such a film, but after many late nights together, you’d grown to find it comforting in a way. it was his favorite movie, and you always felt so safe with him when it played on his little bedroom television.

he snuggled you tight, making sure you were fully asleep before he let his own eyes close, never wanting you to be awake alone. he felt your deep breaths, your hand folded under your head like a princess. eddie watched you sleep, delicately brushing a loose hair from your face, freezing when you squirmed, not fully waking, before settling back down in a slightly different position.

eddie slept better cuddled up with you. it kept his anxiety at bay, the gentle rhythm of your breathing lulling him to sleep. you were sweet to wake up to, always kissing his lips so softly and burying your face in his neck.

first thing in the morning, you were doing just that— being sweet on him until eddie was practically grinning from the pure joy of your presence. he murmured something about getting up to make the coffee, but it was nearly an hour before either one of you dragged yourself out from under the warm covers — too busy with your hands and your tongues.

“do you have the cream I like?” you questioned, padding barefoot out into his little kitchen, where he was already pouring two cups of coffee.

“I always keep it around for you,” he nodded at the fridge, pouring you some before dragging your body against his.

“just let me know when you want me to take you back to that big empty house.”

“no. i want to stay with you.”

#eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson x you #Joseph quinn #Joseph quinn x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson smut #eddie munson oneshot

[ceilingfan5]

[id: taako, an elf with dyed pink hair that is growing out, in a bathtub filled with dyed blue water and bubbles. The bubbles cover most of him. His expression is sour.]

Read on ao3 if you prefer!

Why don’t you take a bath and maybe you’ll feel better, Lup had texted him, and Taako knew, logically, that she meant it with all the goodness and care for him in her big dumb heart, but Taako was in a nightmare mood, so he read it dripping, just oozing with bitchiness, and maybe he was going to take a bath, but he wasn’t about to enjoy it.

Spite bath. For mean stupid assholes who can’t have what they want because they don’t deserve it and throw big idiot baby tantrums because their feelings got hurt that somebody posted date pics online with his hot new perfect dentist boyfriend who makes lots of money and can regulate his own fucking emotions and maybe even can keep a cactus alive for more than a month. Allegedly. 

Taako sinks deeper into the water. It’s a pretty shade of blue, but other than that, his bath bomb was a total waste of money, and he’s mad about it, and doesn’t smell like anything, and the bubble bath he had left wasn’t enough to foam up the whole bath, and he needs to redye his hair, and he forgot to bring a snack, because he plans to fully dissolve until he’s Taako soup, and he’s mad about it. He’s lonely and snackless and broke and his cactus is dead and his sister is miles and miles away and his heart hurts. But now he’s also soaking wet. So, thanks for that, Lup. 

He swipes the plastic bag he put his phone in off of the toilet lid and unlocks it, you know, after 4 failed tries, and, fuck him mighty, the picture is still there. They’re smiling and holding hands at an early dinner, and the post mentions in that elegant way he talks for an audience that they’re going to a show, a concerto in the butterfly gardens, and Taako nearly throws his phone. He’s not that fancy. He doesn’t even know how much a concerto in the butterfly gardens would cost. Maybe he could afford a commercial jingle in a compost pile. Worms can probably jam. 

He tips his head back and groans. Don’t wait up for me, Kravitz had said. I don’t know how late I’ll be back, and you don’t have to worry about me. You know, casual things roommates say to each other? It’s getting on…late, or something, and yeah, maybe Taako was hoping to hear from him, you know, make sure David wasn’t like, a vampire and sucked his soul out or something (fuck, he really can’t compete with a vampire). Maybe hear about how great it was, because at this point, Taako almost wants to feel worse. Bring on the self-sabotage. He’s gonna make all sorts of choices.

He opens a new text and starts typing the truth, but it’s so embarrassing he has to delete it. He tries again, a little more casually, hey, so, Krav, I’m kinda maybe a little bit– deleted. Super sorry to bother you on your perfect date with perfect David but I wanna be yours so bad I can taste–deleted. Do you want to dump your boyfriend and get with me instead? No worries if not! Fucking hell. He trails his hand in the water, scooping up fast-dissolving bubbles. He shakes them off, and some of them fly all the way to the bathroom counter. Oops.

I like you, he types, and that feels a little less horribly pathetic, but the whole thing was an exercise in misery anyway, and he goes to delete that, too, but his hand is slippery, and he drops the bag his phone is in, and fumbles for it, and it goes right into the water.

“Fuck, fuck!” He scoops it out and shakes it off, but the screen is nearly impossible to read through the waterlogged bag. He dries a hand on the fluffy bath mat and fishes the stupid thing out. 

Delivered. 

Read. 

Taako does throw his phone, hot potato, and it goes all the way across the bathroom. He covers his face. He yells into his hands. He hears his phone vibrate from the floor, once, twice, a third time. Kravitz almost never multi-texts, that’s more Taako’s bag, and he’s trying not to hyperventilate all naked and wet and stupid. 

What can he do?? What is there to do??? He doesn’t want to say it was a joke. That would be cruel, a step too far. He might have been feeling self destructive, but he doesn’t need to make Kravitz miserable. 

He pushes himself up, and the phone vibrates again, and he pulls the plug in the bathtub and wraps himself in a towel, relieved he showered first, for once. Blue water slogs out of the tub, gurgling in a way that almost sounds like he’s being chastised, and Taako dries himself off, rubbing at his face like maybe it’ll come off if he tries hard enough. This is, unfortunately, unsuccessful. 

He takes a deep breath, and he picks up the phone. 

Taako, what?

How do you mean that? Taako? Where did this come from?

Do you really? I’d like to talk to you, if you have a chance, I know it’s late, things went long, there was a problem…I mean, I don’t need to exhaust you with the details but, I guess I don’t know what’s going to happen next. Things didn’t turn out the way I planned.

Taako, are you there? Can you call me?

Oh, um, actually, you see, the problem is that Taako would rather succumb to a poison lava death than do that, sorry. His pruney fingers itch with anxiety. The phone starts vibrating with a call, and Taako nearly chucks the phone away again, and this time, he might not get it back. 

Something automatic, something unreal, something new, swipes to answer the call, and shakily puts the phone to his ear. Normally he would run, he would ruin things, he would fuck everything up. But he doesn’t want to make Kravitz sad. 

He doesn’t say anything, though. His tongue is in knots, and he’s about to swallow it.

“Taako, are you there?” He sounds a little choked up for some reason. “I- Can- can you tell me what you meant? It’s- it’s kind of important…Do you…do you really like me? Like, that, I mean, do you- I mean, you probably wouldn’t have said, I mean, I know you think I’m an okay roommate, and, and all that, but–surely you meant–what did you mean??”  

“Um,” Taako says, voice cracking. He’s still holding the towel, hair still dripping down his back. “Uh, hey, Krav.” 

“Taako,” Kravitz says, strained. “I- I just got in a fight with David about this, and- and I can’t-”

“Fuck,” there’s something hard in his throat that won’t go away. “I didn’t mean to- It was an accident, I- I don’t wanna ruin-”

“It was an accident?” The disappointment is palpable through the phone. He could palp it right there, physics be damned. 

“No!! No- I- It’s true, I just- I didn’t mean to send it, I-” 

“It’s true? You like me?” It’s way too eager to mean nothing. Now Taako’s heart is palping. It’s palping hard. 

“I- Fucking of course I like you!” The dam breaks. Taako’s glad he doesn’t have to look Kravitz in the eyes. “I’ve liked you for months, okay? I just don’t want to fuck things up wi-”

“Fuck David,” Kravitz says, desperately fast. “He got nasty about the way I picked up the phone when I saw you text. He- he accused me of being in love with you.” 

“Yeah? Have, um, have those allegations been proven?”

“The evidence is piling up,” Kravitz admits, and then he laughs, and that breaks the spell, and Taako has to laugh too, even though he may or may not be a little teary-eyed. “I think I just broke up with my boyfriend, Taako,” he whispers. 

“What if I told you I know where you can get a new one?”

“I think I’d really like that. It’s been on my mind for a long time.” 

Huh, Taako thinks. Maybe I do feel better.

#i have done...an experiment!!!! #taz #taz b #tazb #taz balance #the adventure zone balance #the adventure zone #taakitz #fan5fics #taakitz fic #taz art #tazb art #my art #ceilingfanart #lmk if you are interested in more fic/art combos like this #it's kind of a dream come true like. points. this is what i was working towards #very cool to have grown so much!!

[tojisblunt]

RQ || NEGLECT + IWAIZUMI.

REQUEST. hypothetically, let's say i have an ignoring kink. again, hypothetically, let's say that i'm a complete slut for iwa. so like,, maybe a reader desperately trying to get off to iwa's fingers but he's just doin something else n then he kinda snaps🥺

AUTHOR’S NOTE. omfg iwa + fingering pls i love that man!! also i made the “bullet points” in normal font instead of tiny font bc my eyes were lowkey hurting oops

CHARACTERS. iwaizumi hajime

+ includes. fingering, neglect, hurt/comfort, angst (just a lil), squirting

— IWAIZUMI HAJIME.

iwaizumi hajime, 27, athletic trainer.

he gets busy sometimes and you perfectly understand that!!

but i mean,,, sometimes,,, its just a little too much, you know?

you miss your boyfriend and knowing that he was out there with the possibility of meeting a beautiful woman, it hurt you.

and the fact that at home, he spoke one word to you and called it a day, it hurts. you start to have thoughts that maybe you’re not the one he wants anymore.

obviously it would never be like that, iwa loves you with his whole being!

even though you’re hurt, you want to make amends with your boyfriend and make it right, because you want to stay with him for as long as possible, forever even.

and imagine the look on his face when you approach him crying because you think he doesn’t love you anymore.

he snaps.

iwaizumi has you on his lap with your legs spread. his right hand has its three fingers shoved inside your messy cunt, while his other hand was preoccupied with scrolling through his phone.

you’re fully naked while he’s clad in all his clothes, completely showing the room who’s the dominant one in the relationship. your tears from your earlier talk with iwaizumi are dry by now, but with the way his fingers are curling inside of you to hit that one spot, those dried tears are bound to be replaced with new ones soon.

“ha-hajime..” you sniffle, legs widening to feel more pleasure off of his fingers. he doesn’t pay attention to you, keeping his focus on his phone. he’s not even moving his fingers either, making you do all the work. your heart drops once more once you’ve realized,

he’s neglecting you again.

this time, you’re crying because of sadness instead of pleasure, and iwaizumi notices, eyes widening at the fat tears streaming down your face as you continue to pathetically bounce up and down on his soaked fingers.

you don’t realize that he sees you crying until you feel your pussy start clamping around nothing, and when you open your eyes, you see iwaizumi wiping his fingers on his pants before tugging you to his chest, patting your head to calm you down.

“hey, baby, shhh,” he coos, swaying your body left and right.

you sob, face buried in his neck. you feel your heart tighten at the thought of iwaizumi becoming absolutely bored with you. you know that you can be a little boring sometimes, and you’ve always thought of yourself as someone who’s undeserving of someone like iwaizumi. yet, you’re so thankful that he’s with you, that he chooses to love you and spend his life with you.

but now, it seems like he doesn’t want to at all, and your head is spinning at the mere thought of iwaizumi loving someone else. someone that isn’t you.

“please don’t leave me,” you babble, and iwaizumi hushes you, continuing to sway you back and forth, “please..” you choke on your cries, and iwaizumi’s heart shatters, the sound of your pained cries was stabbing at his heart.

and he caused that.

“no, baby, i will never leave you.” he shoves his face into your neck, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist, caressing your sides, “i love you so much, you’re so good to me,” he says, looking at you with so much love when you pull away from him to get a good look of his face.

“do you really?” you sniffle, and he smiles, nodding. he takes you off his lap, laying you on your back as he works his way to lay between your legs.

“i’ll show you how much i love you, baby, okay?” he asks, and you at him, eyes sparkling, “will you let me?” he asks, and you nod without hesitation.

he brings two fingers inside of you slowly, and you throw your head back, sighing at the slight burning of the stretch that his thick fingers brought you.

he leans in, tongue poking out to play with your clit. your legs start trembling as he begins to toy with your wet cunt. the rough pads of his fingers are playing with your g-spot, and you can’t help but let out a loud moan.

you spread your legs wider, toes curling at the feeling of pleasure running through your veins from all the way to your toes to your skull.

“hajime,” you mewl, and he chances a glance at you, “please don’t stop,” you cry, and he groans, the vibrations adding more pleasure to your clit.

he continues with his abuse on your pussy, and in no time, you’re panting for him to slow down. it’s all too much, you’re going to make a mess, but it feels too good that you can’t form a proper sentence.

“haji—‘m cummi...fuck!” you babble, and iwaizumi has his eyes closed, staying focused on your pussy to get you where you need, “cu-cumming!! haji, ‘m cumming!” you sob, legs quivering as you gush, creaming around his fingers. he moans as he feels you squirt against him, soaking his chin, mouth, and fingers.

he lets you ride out your orgasm before pulling away. he licks your creamy cum off his fingers, sending you a large grin as he leans in to give you a huge hug.

“i love you so much, baby.” he whispers in your ear, and your heart flutters at his love confession, “i mean it.” he says, tightening his arms around you, and you can’t help but cry once again at the overwhelming wave of emotions crashing against you.

and as iwaizumi is holding you, you feel nothing but love in the room, and it makes you realize that iwaizumu never stopped loving you, even if it seemed like he did.

copyright © uchiharou. do not repost, plagiarize, or modify.

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi x reader smut #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #hajime iwaizumi #📂.headcanon #hc.sins #📂.request #.hq

[laws-hat-headcanons]

Hello hat I hope you are doing well! How do you feel about trying Kidd with 👶 for the emoji Prompts?

Hi Anon!

I'm doing okay, thank you for asking! I hope you are too!

I actually have a load of Dad!Kid headcanons and they are all shameless fluff, so this was really fun for me to write! Hope you like it!

Emoji Prompts - Kid - 👶 A Family Headcanon

Kid slammed the door to his cabin open and dragged himself through, clothes and hair soaked and dripping from the storm still raging outside.

Guiding a ship into port in the middle of the night had not been in his plans, but they had managed it - just.

With a grunt of disgust, Kid began to peel the layers of wet clothing from his body, stripping it away like a second skin. First his sodden coat, then his vest and finally his trousers, all tossed with weary annoyance in the direction of his wash basket.

Kid found a towel, dried himself to some semblance of comfortable and pulled on a dry pair of sweats. He ran a tired hand through his hair, the still wet strands clinging to his fingers as he covered his head with the towel, rubbing vigorously.

"Captain?" A small voice asked.

Kid paused his drying, a long suffering sigh escaping his lips as he pulled the towel off and turned to the lumpy pile of blankets on his bed.

"What are you doing in here, brat?" He demands, watching as the little girl extracts herself from the blankets just enough to be visible. "You know you're not allowed in here."

She blinks big eyes up at him and has the sense to look chastised.

"I-I know that, but I couldn't sleep." She tells him, twisting the bed covers between her small fingers.

"Oh yeah?" Kid asks, finally deeming his hair dry enough. He throws the towel to the corner with the rest of his wet clothing.

"Yeah but i-" The girl cuts herself off with a little squeak as a clap of thunder reverberates around the cabin.

Kid glances over to see her face buried in the covers, an unruly mop of red hair the only part of her now visible.

"Oi," he grunts, annoyed. Stepping towards the bed Kid squats down and pulls at the cover until a pair of orange eyes peer back at him. "You scared brat?" 

"No!" She says immediately, bottom lip jutting out. "Of course not!"

"Good," Kid says with the smallest hint of a smile. He turns away and begins to detach his arm, muttering under his breath at the cold metal.

"It is very loud though," she says from behind him, her voice strained.

"Try being up on deck." Kid grumbles as he lays the metal prosthetic down and turns back to the bed.

"Can.. can I stay?" She asks, eyes wide. "Please, Captain."

Kid runs his tongue over his teeth, grunting in annoyance. He cards his hand through his hair again and sighs.

"Fine, but if you wake me up with any of that pathetic whining, you're out. Understand?" He asks, and she nods vigorously.

"Yes sir!" 

Kid climbs into the bed as she scoots back, keeping out of his way. He clicks off the light and ignores the feeling of a small hand reaching for him in the dark.

It takes several minutes for the girls breathing to even out in sleep, her quiet breathing filling the cabin. 

Kid waits a few more moments before huffing and pulling her against his chest, his good arm wrapped loosely around her small form.

"Night brat."

#one piece #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid headcanons #eustass kid #eustass kid one piece #kid pirates #one piece headcanons #emoji prompts

[boykisserbuckley]

beneath the lonely lights - 1k buck wants a hug. he gets one. 

It’s a quiet night in Buck’s apartment, and the darkness presses in against the windows. He’s got one lamp on, casting a golden glow from behind the couch, and he’s just finished some movie he’d picked off of netflix that looked vaguely interesting. He’d only been half paying attention while he scrolled on his phone, but it worked for a while as background noise. Then the credits rolled, and the quiet pushed right back in.

Buck likes his apartment, really, but sometimes it feels a little too big. It’s spacious and gorgeous and he loves it in the light of day, when the world is awake and loud. He loves it when Eddie is here, or Maddie, and he has someone he can talk to. 

Now, though, the silence is suffocating.

It’s not like—well, it’s not like he can’t handle being on his own. He’s had some practice, after all. He can fill the space with noise, music or the tv or a phone call, if he needs. He can deal. It’s just that on nights like these, when the well of distractions runs dry, it hits him like a wave. 

Buck sits up. There’s no reason for him to be feeling like this, not tonight—he’d been with his team all day, and he knows they love him. He knows he’s not alone, and he’s okay when he’s with them and he can fill the void with chatter. It’s not just him against the world, anymore. 

But when he shuts the tv off and the light from the lamp behind him casts his reflection on the blank screen, sitting cross-legged in the middle of his couch, he can’t stop the hot press of tears that gather at his lashes. His apartment is too big and too dark and too empty, and he’s all alone, and it’s all too much. Buck’s own loneliness sits like a weight in his chest, heavy and aching. God, he just wants a hug right now.

He sniffles once, and the wave crests and breaks. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes and takes a trembling breath but the tears slip past anyway, and suddenly he’s crying for no good goddamn reason on his stupid couch in his stupid apartment all by himself. Buck scrubs at his face with his sleeves, but all that does is get his hoodie wet. He can’t get himself to stop. He feels pathetic. He wants a fucking hug. 

The screen of his phone is blurred and warped by his tears so he swipes at them again, almost angrily, until he can see his texts. Maddie’s on shift, so he can’t ask her. Buck doesn’t think he could bring himself to admit this surge of whatever-the-hell he’s feeling to his sister, anyway. He’s too embarrassed. But Eddie, though—Eddie gives fantastic hugs, and Buck knows he’s home, because they’d gotten off a shift together only a few hours before. 

Buck has the question typed and sent before he can overthink it. mind if i come over?

Door’s always open, Eddie answers not even a minute later. And then, Everything ok?

It’s not. It should be. Nothing’s even wrong, really. It’s just not right. How does he even begin to explain that? 

Buck tries to take a breath deep enough to steady himself, only half succeeding. After a moment, he settles on; could just really use a hug.

Get over here then, Eddie texts back. 

And Buck doesn’t have to be told twice, with the promise of some company. He sticks his phone in his pocket and heaves himself to his feet. Another swipe of his sleeve across his face ensures that he doesn’t look like a complete mess, but as he locks his door and heads for the parking lot, he still hopes he doesn’t end up running into a neighbour. 

He gets enough of a handle on himself on the drive over that by the time he’s pulling into Eddie’s driveway, Buck just feels a little ridiculous. He’s still sniffling lightly, but his tears have dried. He feels shaky and scraped out and raw, still a little off-kilter and a lot embarrassed. But he’s here. 

The door is unlocked, just like Eddie had promised, and Buck lets himself in. He moves quietly so as not to wake Christopher, who he expects is already asleep by now. It’s late. He might feel bad about that, if this were anyone but Eddie. 

Eddie’s house, even in the quiet, doesn’t feel oppressive. It doesn’t feel cold, or lonely. It’s nothing like his apartment. It’s everything he needs right now. 

Buck rounds the corner and there’s Eddie, just turning away from the sink to face him as he steps into the kitchen. The dishes look half done, but Eddie ignores them in favour of grabbing the dishtowel he’d draped over his shoulder and drying off his hands. 

“Hey,” Buck says. He curls his fingers into the ends of his hoodie sleeves, and tries for a smile. 

Eddie takes in his appearance—and what a sight he must make, right now—and tosses the towel to the side. It lands on the counter, missing the edge of the sink by a hair. 

“Come ‘ere,” Eddie says, and he opens his arms like he’s inviting Buck in and it’s—it’s everything Buck needs right now, no matter how silly he felt a moment ago. 

He practically dives at Eddie, wrapping his arms under Eddie’s and curling as close as he can get, hiding his face in Eddie’s shoulder. Buck takes a deep, steady breath, and lets it out slow. 

Eddie wraps his arms around Buck’s shoulders and gives him a little squeeze. The strange, unexplained tension Buck had been carrying all night finally starts to ease. He melts into Eddie’s embrace, soaking in his best friend’s comfort. 

“Thank you,” he says, words muffled against Eddie’s shirt. 

“No need,” Eddie says. “You’ve got me, Buck. Any time.” 

“I know,” Buck agrees, because he does. Eddie just hums in response, and they fall quiet. It isn’t so heavy here, wrapped up in Eddie. Here, the quiet is easier to face. 

#b!writes #911 fox #911 on fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #dearbuck #userlove #tylerhunklin #buttercupbuck #from-nova #userac #userster #tusernikki #tusera #userdee #userlukas #usercameron #userkatet #yeah i kind of hate this but i'm posting it anyway!! as the world deserves!!

[burnedbyshoto]

cravings & needs

— Even Natsuo has cravings and needs that demand relied even when you, his wife, is pregnant.

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pairing: todoroki natsuo x pregnant fem!reader

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, pwp, pregnant!reader, pregnancy hormones, slight daddy kink, lactation, breeding kink, natsuo platonic!calls reader mommy.

word count: 2,825

a/n: i am like: breed but no pregnant. but sometimes im like: pregnant but no baby. so basically, I lose.

kinktober day 16 main kink: lactation | kinktober masterlist

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You were going to strangle Todoroki Natsuo until his face turned blue and purple.

Then you will cry.

Then you will profusely apologize as he splutters for breath.

Then you will kiss him soundly, fingers ripping his clothes off, raging hormones simmering your blood. 

Then you’ll shove him off of you, calm once again, and ask if he wanted to go get some ice cream as his pale skin flushed red.

To say the least, you absolutely hated your stupid, good for nothing, utterly super-fertile husband who just had to carry the Todoroki breeding kink gene. You were nine months pregnant, nine months after finally agreeing that both of you were ready for children. Your belly was so large and swollen with your future son that you often cried when seeing yourself in the mirror. Not because you were insecure, but because you didn’t think the skin on your stomach should stretch that much.

“Are you sure he won’t accidentally pop out of my stomach like in Alien if he presses against me too hard?” you had cried to your doctor of a husband who looked like he wasn’t sure if he should be laughing or mortified of your lack of common sense.  “I promise,” Natsuo smiled, pressing a kiss to your swollen hands, but you didn’t believe him.

But your entire body hurt at the moment. Every piece of flesh and contracting muscle was swollen to its max. You didn’t feel cute. You didn’t think you were cute as you lay in your bed with a million pillows fluffed around your body because you could no longer lay on your back. Your lips were pulled into a pout, your eyes shining with tears as you sniffled.

“Natsuooooo!” you wailed, your feet kicking against the mattress pathetically, calling out to your husband, who was doing who knows what. “Natsuoooooooo!”

There wasn’t even a response back to that, and for some reason, it infuriated you. Hormone and pain-fueled anger shot through your pregnant veins as a demanding cry left your lips. “TODOROKI NATSUO!”

“Yes?!” came the distant faraway voice, the scuffing of a chair on the floor and the pittering of feet as you remained on the bed, suddenly feeling guilty and sad. “Coming!”

So when Natsuo peeked into the room, his glasses sitting on the crown of his head telling you that he was probably looking through his research, you began to bawl. You had the audacity to tell Natsuo that you weren’t crying as your face burned with your embarrassing tears and as you soaked not only your pillows but your face with your tears.

“No, no, baby, what’s wrong?” Natsuo asked his face swimming with concern and sympathy for you, his nine-month pregnant wife. He approached the bed, sitting at the edge, but that made you cry harder as you turned away from him, your back to him. You felt his hand touch your shoulder, soothing your shaking shoulders as he let you stay unresponsive as you continued to cry.

“I hate you,” you eventually spat, the guilt no longer sitting in your collection of feelings because this was his fault. You sat up on the bed, or well, tried to. You allowed Natsuo to help you into a sitting position that made his damn bastard kid sit directly on your bladder. You had just peed!

“What did I do?” Natsuo asks, his mouth twitching in that annoying way that told you he was trying to take you seriously, but given all your outbursts lately, his expectations were low.

“You put this stupid fucking bastard demon little fucking shit in my stomach!” you raged, grabbing him by his collar and shoving his face to your stomach where the stupid kid was trying to play open the damn piñata on your stomach! “He has been in here for nine-months too long. My entire body hurts, and my tits feel like they’re about to fucking explode with this milk I fucking can’t even fucking save because this little shit isn’t coming for two more weeks. I want him gone. I want your stupid fucking little not so cute breeding kink demolished,” you hissed, your eyes glaring into his grey eyes that glistened with emotions that made the raging fire of hatred and anger flicker and evolve into one that went straight to your cunt. Fuck.

“You don’t like being pregnant?” Natsuo asked, his hands slipping under yours and manages to push them off of his person. Your mouth runs dry as you stare into his darkened eyes, and you’re subject to his thoughts and actions as your sore back comes in contact with your pillows. His voice is in a soft drawl, each word coming out slow and thick like honey. “Fuck, baby, that’s too bad because you look so fucking bred with my son. You have no idea how excited I get whenever people get to see my pregnant little wife, stuffed with my child.”

His lips are brushing against your collarbone as he says that, the heat of his breath making you pant. Your fingers curl into his shirt, your mewls pathetic and needy.

Stupid fucking hormones. 

“Where do you hurt most?” he asks, lips trailing down the cleavage of your swollen with milk tits.

“E-Everywhere,” you gasp when his hands slip underneath your shirt that barely fits anymore. His weathered hands trailing up the swollen mountain of your belly, you can feel the little shit in you reaching out after his touch too. “N-Natsuo! Don’t t-tease me!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my love,” Natsuo tuts as he pulls away from your collarbone, and you shiver as he manages to bring your shirt over your swollen stomach and past your aching breasts. “Do you need daddy’s cock to make you feel better? Maybe we’ll get lucky, and I can impregnate you again right now, so you don’t have to stop being my cute pregnant wife.” The thought of that sends your mind over the cliff. Realistically, you know that would be horrible, but the way his voice spoke in such a husky manner, and knowing that he is fucking obsessed with your pregnant, successfully bred body, a part of you hopes it happens. You watch with horny need and desire, ready for your husband’s mouth, fingers, and cock to please you and your horny state. But as you try to get your hands to his pants, the strain of his cock evident to you, you realize he hasn’t moved. “You’re lactating.”

You blink, and you peer down at your breasts, and you shriek at the murky white liquid dripping from your enlarged, swollen nipples. Through your entire pregnancy, you had managed to never leak milk in front of Natsuo. More often than not, you were with Fuyumi or Rei or your own family when it happened when he was at work, but for the past month, when milk was starting to leak out without your spoken permission, he had never been around. 

Natsuo tilts his head, his tongue pressing between his lips as he coyly looks up at you, grey eyes suddenly appearing jet black. 

You breathing piques.

And you don’t have the time to question why your husband looks like a predator cornering a prey as he sinks down, mouth suddenly enveloping a single nipple.

“NATSUO!” you shriek, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as his hot, wet mouth latched onto your nipple. 

His tongue twirled around your leaking nipples, lapping at the liquid that was coming out on its own, his hand on your other breast, keeping it upright, and you realized with a distant thought that he was somehow preventing the milk from spilling from your unlatched onto breast. You trembled under his hold, body feeling like it was being electrocuted as his teeth slowly sunk into your nipple, and he began to suck on your swollen, inflamed skin. It wasn’t anything different from how he usually sucks your breasts while the both of you fuck, but it felt to a greater degree of intensity and fervor for some reason. A rush of liquid, a slam of electricity slammed through your nerves as you wailed for Natsuo, your legs managing to hook over his waist as he sucked and sucked on your nipple.

Milk flowed from your free nipple, filling Natsuo’s mouth like a bottomless pit. Natsuo drank the sweet, warm liquid in his mouth, some of the murky fluid dribbling from the corner of his mouth as he sloppily drank you. Entirely obsessed with the taste of you.

“That’s so dirty of you!” you cried beneath him, hands weakly beating on his shoulders. “You’re so dirty, daddy! So d-dirty! You stupid, breeding idiot doctor pervert! D-Don’t you know that m-my milk isn’t — nghhh, oh my fuck, yes, yes just like that!!!! The milk — aaaahhhh!!! oh my god — the milk’s for the baby!!! N-Not… fuck, fuck, fuck, not for you!”

You tried to stare him in the eye but found the raw lust and want in his eyes to be overwhelming, your body trembling as you looked away from his gaze. The slight discomfort of having the milk being ejected from your nipple in such greedy, powerful sucks soon fades into throbbing pleasure. Your head knocked back into your once tear-stained pillows as you cry for Natsuo, the milk in your breasts leaking out even more now that there was a hungry mouth waiting to be feed. 

Your cheeks pounding with embarrassment. But you had to admit the feeling of his mouth, wholly and greedily consuming your milk made your cunt throb with heated need, and you were more than delighted to find that even in this position, your cunt ground against his hard cock.

He pulled away with a wet pop, his lips and chin absolutely wet with your milk, and you whimpered at the sight. If you knew any better by the way your breast no longer hurt, you’d say he sucked you dried.

“It’s my responsibility as a doctor, the father of your child, and your husband to make sure your milk is suitable for my child,” Natsuo calmly almost wickedly explained, his mouth suddenly against yours. “It’s my job to fulfill your body’s every little demand and need until you’re fucked and sucked satisfied.”

The sweetness of your milk suddenly invaded your mouth, and you cried at the taste of your milk.

“See,” Natsuo grinned, and you panted as he pulled away. He began to remove his pants and underwear, sliding down his boxers to reveal his beading, swollen cock, and tore your undies, unfazed by your scream of dismay as he spoke the entire time. “How can you hate when I put a baby in you. Especially when you can produce milk that fucking sweet, my love. I can’t wait to stuff you full with another kid, see you this fucking pregnant again. So soft, so cute, absolutely helpless and needy for anything and everything I can offer.”

Your cunt scorched and clenched in need, your panting, barely open eyes focusing on how Natsuo rutted his cock through your soaked folds, and how he had another hand to your other breast, pinching, almost milking your nipple.

Horny fury throbbed deep within you.

“Todoroki Natsuo, if you don’t fuck your pregnant fucking wife right now, I swear to go—aaahhhh!!! Shit, fuck!” you screamed as Natsuo’s incredibly thick cock finally entered your pulsing walls, stretching you out beyond what you were ready for as your body twisted and writhed against your pillows. Jaw slack open, tumbling heaving breathes, and half formulated curses escaping your mouth as his cock entered you.

Your eyes fluttered impossibly fast, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as Natsuo shifted his hips further into you. It seemed that while being pregnant, your cunt had become stupidly tighter, and Natsuo’s cock, which you could take without even breaking a sweat nowadays, had come to absolutely wind you like some blushing virgin as of late. 

“Shhhh, shhh,” Natsuo whispers against your cleavage, his hips rocking into you at a slow speed, teeth skimming and biting alongside your still swollen with milk tit. “Be a good mommy and let your daddy fuck you while drinking your milk, okay?”

You couldn’t even come up with an articulate word to say. Your head nodded, you think, you couldn’t even tell as his cock dragged up your walls, making your head spin just a bit as his mouth enveloped your thus far ignored nipple. 

There were moments where you felt like you’ve come to orgasm without actually orgasming. The sensation of his cock shifting in your cunt that was absolutely so tight, you could feel the pulsing veins on his cock beating against your walls with his pounding blood. But it was that wordless sensation of the milk being sucked from your swollen breast that made your toes curl with satisfying lust, the heat of his mouth, and bite of his teeth on your throbbing muscle and flesh that had your hurting hips shifting for more friction.

Pounding, blissful pleasure washed over you as the slurping noises of Natsuo greedily, hungrily drinking in your milk.

“Faster,” you cried when the not quite an orgasm faded from your skin but left a static sensation in the tips of your fingers and toes. Your hands went from his shoulders to thread and yank at his hair. “Faster, daddy, fuck me faster, drink my milk more! Do it harder, please, please, I need you more! I want to feel this more!”

And Natsuo, true to his belief what a doctor, a husband, and the father of your child should do, did what you demanded.

His hips rocked into you, the squelching noises of your wet pussy were loud and demanding. The rocking juices and essence from your legs seeping out with every rocking slam, splattering onto your lower stomach that Natsuo dutifully avoided. His mouth that was nursing on your nipple sucked and sucked; loud smacks and massive gulps you swore you could feel on your breasts made your thighs tremble with lewd need. You tugged at his hair, absolutely riveted with the way he drank you, shaken with the fact that found this attractive.

Natsuo drank your milk mouthful by mouthful, his blackened eyes piercing through you completely, making your lust haze gaze feel weak and absolutely shallow as the glinted with glee with every successive slam of his hips into your cunt. 

“Fuck, your milk is so fucking sweet,” Natsuo growls against your breast, his mouth taking a break from your breast as you pant wildly. “Gonna take all that I can before the pup shows up.”

The words curl and pulse in your core, and you can barely manage to stammer out his name at the thought of him feeding himself with your milk for the next two weeks before your child finally came. You shake with the need, your head nodding pathetically with the agreement to let him do as he wants as you slowly whine out a verbal response, but there’s no reason to answer. For when you do, your words heavy on your tongue, his teeth sink into your nipple, his cock brushes against your cervix, and the throbbing, heated pit in your stomach, so dense and heavy with your satisfied need and lust, exploded with the peaked wanton need. An orgasm ripped through your body, your heels digging into his hips as you screamed his name. Your body trembles as you can feel that all too familiar heat of his seed spilling within you, the sticky fluid swimming in you as he continues to feed on your milk.

Your nipples ache with the overstimulation, but you can’t muster anything more than a few pathetic whines as Natsuo continues to drink. He sucks and sucks and sucks until he pulls away. The final gulp of your milk loud and sends a shiver down your spine as he wipes the back of his hand to his wet lips. 

Tears somehow explode into your eyes as you stare up at your beautiful husband, who, now that his own hormones have faded looks entirely scared.

“Oh fuck, what’s wrong, my love? Do you need me to go get ice cream? I’ll get the bath running, and we can go soak—?”

“I’m s-so h-happy,” you smile, a watery grin on your face as you grab onto your husband’s jaw that is still slightly wet with your sweet milk. “You make me feel so happy, so good. You make me feel like the best person in the w-world, and I wouldn’t m-mind being pregnant with more kids as long as you keep doing that.”

Natsuo stills, his scared expression melting into one of fondness and slight cockiness, “I think I can make that work.”

#todoroki x reader #todoroki natsuo x reader #todoroki smut #natsuo smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #bbs kinktober 2020

[yeongwvnhi]

ᴸᵒᵛᵉ ᴬᵍᵃⁱⁿ

Pairing - Baekhyun x fem reader -> exes to lovers | Genre - Angst, fluff | warnings - none | taglist - @twancingyunhoe @trashlord-007 @tiddy-boys | synopsis - when Baekhyun and you broke things off a year ago, it felt alright, but you came to the painful realization that nobody could ever replace him or love you like he did | word count - 2.1k | thanks to @tiddy-boys for beta-reading ♡

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It's days like these, rain hitting the window in harsh taps and angry wind blowing, when the nostalgia hits the hardest. After all, you were always one to dwell on the past. It's just what you do. 

Every day felt the same after the two of you broke things off. You don't even remember why exactly you even ended it in the first place. The pain still sits deep, coming to haunt you when you least expect it. 

Rainy days like those just trigger the nostalgia, the memories and bygone feelings. 

It's 12pm when you check your phone, yet you're still laying in bed. The lack of motivation due to this sudden wave of sadness is something you're not experiencing for the first time. 

And it's killing you slowly. These feelings are eating you up from the inside out. 

Without even realizing, tears are running down your cheeks in even, salty streams. 

"Why am I even crying…" You mumble and lift your arm to cover your face, trying to make it stop. "God, I'm so pathetic" 

You try to manage to stop your tears, wrist harshly rubbing your eyes. After a minute or so, you succeed in stopping them. 

instead pick up your phone, unlocking it and opening Instagram. 

One peek won't hurt, right…? 

His name at the top of your searches seems to be mocking you as you hover your finger above it. Should you really do it? What if he found someone new and his profile is filled with couple pictures? Or what if he feels nothing and is glad to be alone? What if, what if, what if…

"Fuck it" you hiss and tap on his username, his profile popping up after a brief second of loading the page. 

He… hasn't posted anything for a few months, his last post being from October last year. 

Oh for fucks sake… is this a good sign or not? It could mean he's been seeing someone new, but it could also mean he's just been living his life like usual. 

So many possibilities, yet no resolution seems to be in sight. 

"This is so annoying, oh my gooood" You groan and smack your head into your pillow, laying sprawled out like a star with an annoyed pout on your face. 

"It's been a god damn year," You grumble, "why do I still feel like this?" 

The sound of your fist hitting the mattress of your bed is dull, not the way you wanted it to sound. "I hate this, UGHH" The frustration in your voice is for sure loud and clear, accentuated well by the 'ugh'. 

This whole situation is stressing you out. "I need a shower.." You mumble, absent-minded, as you fling the covers back and swing your legs over the edge of your bed. 

—

Despite the gloomy weather, you decided to take a walk outside. The rain still hasn't let up, droplets of it occasionally hitting your face. 

"Why is it so cold today? It's already spring…" You mumble quietly to yourself, eyes strictly trained on the path in front of your feet and head held low. 

You're so lost in your thoughts, you don't see the person headed your way. 

And apparently, the person doesn't seem to notice you as well. So your shoulders collide and you stumble, umbrella falling out of your hand and fast quick steps to regain your balance. 

"I'm so sorry! Are you al-" The man rushes to apologize, but his words get stuck in his throat as he takes in who he just, quite literally, stumbled into. 

Rain has hit you mercilessly, soaking you from head to toe within seconds as you stand there, paralyzed. "Baek…Baekhyun?" 

His eyes are wide and mouth slightly open in shock as he doesn't know what to say or do. 

He hasn't seen or talked to you in at least nine or ten months for sure. What is he even supposed to say? "Yeah… it's- it's surely been a while" he dumbly answers. "Ah! Your umbrella!" Baekhyun rushes to pick it up and hold it over your figure. 

But the damage is already done. 

You're shivering, dripping with water but still you've a tiny smile on your lips at the sight of him. 

You delicately take hold of the handle, fingers gently enclosing around the man's hand. 

He doesn't move to let go, just standing there and staring into your eyes. "I-" 

You cut him off by mistake with a sneeze, the cold creeping in deep. It feels like your bones might freeze, grasp around both Baekhyun's hand and the handle of your umbrella tightening, muscles contracting to desperately stay warm. "S-Sorry for interrupting you" You say, teeth clattering and eyes averting. 

"No no don't worry about it!" He insists, "but we should get you home, your hand is cold as ice, Y/N" 

"Ah… you're right" You nod and he flashes you a warm smile. 

"Do you still live in the same apartment or did you move?" Baekhyun asks, back to being concerned about your wellbeing now. 

"I- I still live in the same place" You reply, your free hand holding onto your jacket for warmth, but in vain. 

"That's too far away, my place is way closer" He objects and gently pulls you along, "come on, let's get you freshened up before you really get sick" 

You only manage an awkward nod and let him lead you along, a surprisingly pleasant silence engulfing you two. 

—

Baekhyun unlocks the door to his apartment and firstly puts both of your umbrellas away, taking off his wet shoes in the process and you follow along. 

"Come on, I'll show you the bathroom" He says and you tag after him. 

He opens the door, turns on the light and quickly pulls out two towels for you. "You can just use my shampoo, I don't have anything suitable here for you, sor-" 

"Thank you" you break his rambling. "You wouldn't need to do this, so thank you" 

Baekhyun smiles softly, although his eyes tell a different story. "I'll bring you some clothes in a bit, okay?" 

"Mhm" you nod and give him a curt bow before he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. 

You waste no time in stepping out of your soaked clothes and into the shower. 

You set the water to a nice warm temperature and rinse off the cold first, feeling relieved. 

Then there's a knock. "Hey Y/N, I'm putting some clothes on top of the washing machine for you now" he announces before opening the door, doing as he said and then leaving just as quickly as he came. 

"Still the considerate guy he always was…" You mumble with a sad smile, old memories coming back to haunt your mind with sweet images of the two of you. Him always knocking before he'd enter a room you would be in to announce himself. 

You loved that about him, he was always mindful of others and you're happy to see it hasn't changed at all. 

—

You finished quickly and put on the clothes he gave you. Some boxers and a way too big on you, black shirt. You dried your hair as best as you could with the towel he gave you and made sure you don't look like a lion by patting down your hair a bit. 

"Baekhyun?" You timidly call out after opening the door a bit. 

"Yeah?" He replies and you hear his footsteps approach. "What is it?" 

"Uhm- Where to put my wet clothes?" You ask. 

"Oh- Hold on, I'll put them in the washing machine" He says with big eyes and opens the machine for you to put them in. "I'll dry them after they're washed so you can change back, alright?" 

You nod quickly and thank him quietly. He opens the machine and you put your clothes inside, him doing the rest. 

"So, uh-" 

"Do you want some water?" He quickly asks, ears flaring red as he avoids your eyes. 

"Sure" you squeak back and follow him into the kitchen. He gets a glass out of a cupboard and fills it with water before handing it to you. 

You nip at the liquid as Baekhyun leans against the countertop adjacent to you, eyes taking in your figure. 

He missed seeing you in his clothes, you always looked so good in them. He just missed you in general. 

The reason why the two of you broke up a year ago? 

Baekhyun remembers it all too well. 

It was a work related thing actually. The two of you worked in different shifts and barely saw each other, yet alone had time for any couple stuff. 

Free days? Spent alone or arguing about never seeing each other. 

And at one point you had said to just break up. In that moment Baekhyun felt like he was hit by lightning, body stiff and eyes wide. He couldn't believe what he heard. Baekhyun felt anxiety cursing through his veins as his brain processed your words.

You had told him that you wouldn't hate him, but that your situation at that time just didn't allow any dating. The two of you never had hard feelings about the outcome, but it was hard to suddenly go back to being alone. 

And now you're here, in his apartment, wearing his clothes and smelling just like him. He can't believe this is happening. 

"Uhm, so" You speak up after setting the glass down on the other counter behind you. Your hands come up to grab the surface besides your waist and you avoid the man's eyes. 

"Yes?" Baekhyun can't help the hopeful hint in his voice as he urges you to continue your thoughts. 

"How has life been for you?" 

A chuckle escaped his lips at your question, shoulders jumping up and down in the process before he answered. "It's been rather boring but nice, if you get what I mean? I found a different job and work from home now" 

You nod quietly, "I've also found a new job and my shifts are less hectic" 

"Have you… found someone new?" 

You halt at his inquiry, gears in your mind temporarily stopping and he seems to take the lacking answer the wrong way. A frown pulls at his normally friendly and soft expression, making him look grumpy and bothered. "I see" 

"No, no! I- I haven't found anyone!" You quickly say, "I just… I couldn't move on" 

His expression changes to a sad smile, although he's kind of glad you're still somehow his. "Me neither" 

You scoff lightly, a cheeky smirk suddenly on your face. "No wonder, nobody could put up with your annoying ass anyway" 

"Hey!" He exclaims in shock. 

"I'm joking, I'm joking!" You insist, holding your stomach and laughing. "You're bearable most of the time" 

"That doesn't make it any better!" Baekhyun whines and you laugh out loud, hand flying up to cover your mouth. 

"Still the cocky little girl you've always been" He fires back and you snort. 

"Like you're one to talk" You roll your eyes at him and he exhales through his nose. 

His hands grab you by the collar of his shirt you're wearing and unexpectedly pull you into him. You squeal, hands shooting up to brace against his broad chest and you look up to be met by his cocky smile. "You never knew when to stop, no change at all there" he playfully nags. 

"Shut up" You weakly fight back. 

Baekhyun chuckles and you feel the rumble drumming against the palms of your hands. "How come you haven't moved on?" 

You lower your head, hands fumbling with his shirt. "Well… I came to the conclusion that just nobody could replace you. Nobody could love me like you did…" You mumble against his chest and Baekhyun feels a smile creeping up on his face. 

"I felt the same" He whispers back and his arms move to pull you into him more by your waist. 

After hearing that, you look back up at him with big eyes. "Really?" 

He nods and flashes you a bright smile. "Even though we fought a lot and barely had time for each other, I never stopped loving you" 

"Shut up" You almost whimper and move your hands to pull him closer by the back of his neck, lips meeting in the middle. 

Baekhyun's eyes almost fell out of their sockets before he came to his senses. 

One of his hands found its place on the back of your head as he moved his lips against yours with fervor. He greedily breathes you in, not wanting this to end as moves his mouth against yours. 

You shiver when his tongue meets yours and that's when you draw the line… for now. 

He chases after you for a second and you chuckle, dazed eyes meeting yours. "Slow down tiger" you say and peck the corner of his mouth. 

"Okay, okay" He smiles and pulls you in for a hug, "will you let me love you again?" 

"You bet" 

#yuki writes #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #prism.nw #lsn.works #supermwritersnet #wkcnet #theBBHday #exo fluff #exo angst #exo imagines #exo scenarios #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun angst #baekhyun imagines #baekhyun scenarios #yeongwvnhi.txt

[samstree]

and the wolf was nowhere to be found (3/4)

It dawns on Jaskier that in the span of only a few days, his and Geralt’s roles have reversed.

(3.2k, lying spell/potion, cursed jaskier, blood and injury, miscommunication)

The reverse trope series masterlist.

AO3

Jaskier is perched on the edge of the bed, exactly where he woke up an eternity ago. The barmaid is filling the bathtub with one bucket of water after another, but he pays no attention.

He fidges with the splints on his arms, careful not to tug on the tendons. With how swollen his wrists are, that seems like an impossible feat.

“You alright by yourself?” the girl asks, pouring the last of the water.

“Yes.”

Jaskier lets the word out without a fight. It wouldn’t do much good anyway. The barmaid is gone within a second, and Jaskier sits alone in the inn room with both arms immobilized and a hot bath waiting.

Untying the laces is painful. Jaskier ends up with a head full of sweat by the time his doublet hits the ground, and the intricate bindings on his chemise give him an even bigger headache. His arms tremble like they are getting more broken by the minute.

It takes forever for Jaskier to strip himself nude and notice the bloodstains all the way down his neck. The wound at his nape is sewed close neatly, barely stinging by now, but with one look of himself in the mirror, Jaskier knows he’s a mess. The dried blood, added by the dark circles under his eyes, makes quite a harrowing picture.

He sinks into the hot water and rests his arms by the edge, the warmth loosening his muscles and clearing the smell of blood. Gradually, he lowers himself under the surface and feels his lungs burn.

Drowning himself would be a nice idea, if only he isn’t sticking out his forearms just so the splints don’t get soaked. Also, Geralt will blame himself even more, so there goes the thought.

Jaskier emerges and shakes away the droplets like a wet dog. He can’t get soap into his hair anyway. Sitting there in self-pity and regret is his only option.

And what right does Jaskier have to feel sorry for himself? Geralt is the one hurt by the poison he spewed, curse or not, and yet he still sewed up Jaskier’s neck and bandaged his wrists. He even ordered a bath for Jaskier when he left, for good this time, Jaskier is sure. There’s no reason for Geralt to stay after all, now that he believes Jaskier is ready to turn on him at every chance just like everybody else.

In the end, it doesn’t matter that a fae in the woods made him say it. Geralt will never be his friend again, let alone anything Jaskier has only allowed his heart to entertain in the wildest dreams.

That’s why he sucks in a surprised breath when a knock comes from the door. Jaskier bites into his lips, just to be safe.

“It’s me.” Geralt’s voice is small, tentative. “Do you need help?” After a stretch of silence, he pushes open the door slowly. “I only want to check on you—Gods, Jaskier, are you in pain?”

Is he? Perhaps soaking his wound in hot water and clutching at the tub with his broken hands isn’t that wise.

“I…” The chair screeches against the floor and Geralt settles next to Jaskier. “I know you don’t want to see me, but you can’t treat your injuries so carelessly. Here.”

Geralt picks up a bar of soap and dips it into water. The next thing Jaskier knows, gentle hands are threaded through his hair and massaging his scalp.

“I’ll just clean it and bandage it. It won’t take long.”

Jaskier looks into the unbearable sadness in those amber eyes, and hates that he’s doing this to Geralt.

“I hate that I’m doing this to you, Jaskier. I—” Geralt sighs. “I wish I could go back and leave you alone after the mountain. I’d make sure we never meet in that damned tavern in Posada if it means you won’t get hurt. Seeing you like this, I—”

Jaskier catches Geralt’s gaze, pleading and seeking, and feels the witcher still under his attention. No, he doesn’t deserve any comfort, not when he’s the one completely at blame. It’s bad enough that Geralt believed all those awful things, and Jaskier won’t ask for more.

“Jaskier?”

He looks down again and lets Geralt go back to his ministrations.

Geralt sighs with relief, and Jaskier swallows the lump in his throat.

Gods, he wants to explain, wants more than anything to erase the hurt he inflicted—if that is still possible. Letting Geralt believe those things is so fundamentally wrong. But how will Jaskier explain? With his voice gone and wrists ruined, there’s no real way of communication, and the thought of more awful things slipping out by accident is enough for Jaskier to wish for death by drowning again.

He let twenty years pass without ever admitting his love, and now he’s lost the chance.

The water trickles down Jaskier’s temple when Geralt rinses out the soap. His movement is achingly gentle, rough calluses ghosting over Jaskier’s skin only by accident. If only tenderness can kill. Tears well up again, and he’s losing control.

“Does it still hurt?” Geralt asks while retrieving a towel.

“No.”

The first preferable lie of the day.

Slowly, Jaskier turns around to let Geralt dry the curls near his forehead, his jaw clenching tight again. There’s a crease between Geralt’s brows, his amber eyes unconvinced. A large sheet is wrapped around Jaskier’s frame when he steps out of the tub.

Jaskier hisses when he tries to catch the hem of the sheet, and Geralt stills. “Let me see your wrists.”

Jaskier stares into amber eyes, silently hoping that without an answer, Geralt will leave him to his misery. He can’t afford another slip. And yet, determination creeps into Geralt’s features, and there’s no point in fighting anymore. A determined Geralt is not someone Jaskier can refuse.

“I’ll be quick,” Geralt pauses. “Please?”

It’s unfair how kind Geralt is being.

Jaskier’s shoulders sag when he pads across the room to sit on the bed, arms gathering the sheet into a heap near his midriff. He should maintain at least a shred of dignity.

Geralt sits down next to him, shoulders weighed down, looking just as tired as Jaskier feels. Still, when he unwraps Jaskier’s wrists, his motion is the most precise thing, touching just enough for practical purposes, not sparing even a brush of knuckles.

Even the slightest probing sends a sharp bolt of pain up Jaskier's arms, but it’s nothing compared to the torture of being so close to Geralt, dreading his fate—being left alone once again. This time, it’ll be permanent and he’ll deserve it.

Jaskier holds his breath, waiting for the inevitable blow that is Geralt declaring he’ll leave on first light. For reasons beyond this world, it doesn’t come. Instead, Geralt lets out a strangled sound.

Jaskier frowns. His wrists are painted with a plethora of black and purple bruises, the edges fading into green and yellow, which is just to be expected.

“You’ll never play again,” Geralt whispers. “If we don’t do anything about it.”

Does it matter? He has long since forgotten how to sing without Geralt in his songs.

“I—” Geralt wraps the gauze around the splints, one by one, tucking in the end. “I asked around just now. Word says a mage is only a day’s ride away. No one at the market was sure, but I am. Yen is only a day away. We can make it tomorrow.”

At the mention of the sorceress’s name, the press of teeth against his tongue is the last of Jaskier’s worry, and he retracts his arms instantly. Under the thin sheet, Jaskier shivers.

“Jaskier, I can’t leave you like this. You need your music when I—” Geralt shakes his head, the pursed line of his lips impossibly sad. “—When you go. Yennefer can fix it. I know you can’t stand me, but at least grant me the peace of mind. Let me know you will be all right, after.”

The dim room turns hazy in the candlelight, and Jaskeir can only curl into himself to stem the tears. He sits there for too long, not sure if he nodded. Wrapping the wound on his head doesn’t take long, and then Geralt is gone without a word.

Jaskier hugs himself tighter, and sobs into the quiet night, the aches of his body finally tiring him out.

 ~~

Strapping the lute case to Roach’s saddle is a task Geralt has done hundreds of times, and yet he fidgets with the contraption in the morning, adjusting it so many times, pulling at the knot again and again.

It’s almost like he wants to stretch their journey longer.

But then, one look at Jaskier’s splinted arms and bandaged head, he smoothes a hand down Roach’s mane and deemed her ready to go.

Riding on the mare while the witcher walks ahead of them is not the most novel experience for Jaskier. Despite Geralt’s overprotectiveness of his mare, he’s always let Jaskier ride if he was truly distressed—or simply complained loudly enough.

There’s no complaining during their one-day journey, even Roach is behaving like the good girl she is. Jaskier gladly endures her glares as long as she doesn’t throw him off her back. Perhaps she senses that will certainly kill him.

The small village looms by the end of the road, right next to the setting sun, and Jaskier’s knees almost buckle under him as he dismounts. He catches the saddle by instinct and chokes in a grunt. There’s fresh blood between his teeth. Geralt’s hands steady Jaskier by the elbows as he breathes through the pain, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Walking into Yennefer’s cottage like this is the last thing Jaskier wants, but what choice does he have? She has long since figured out how pathetic he is. A mere human plastered himself to a witcher’s side, never once considering the possibility that he’s unwanted. A mock or two from Yennefer of Vengerburg aren’t anything new.

To Jaskier’s surprise, when violet eyes meet him, there’s no mockery.

Yennefer stands from a workstation full of vials and bottles. Without sparing a glance at Geralt, she walks right past the witcher.

“Oh, bardling,” she says, “what have you gotten yourself into?”

It takes a brave man to not cower under her knowing gaze, and Jaskier is far from one. He wishes to hide in the setting sun and the darkening room, his feet quiet on the wooden floor and lips sealed. Without a voice, Jaskier is left with no presence anyway.

Pulling Yennefer away, Geralt must be explaining the situation. Once in a while, they will both turn their heads at Jaskier with a pinched look, an almost identical one. Paying attention to the conversation becomes difficult as exhaustion hits Jaskier at full force. The blood loss from the makes him dizzy after traveling on horse, his bones aching from all the jostling. Jaskier sinks into a soft armchair and lets low grumbling witcher baritone and Yennefer’s silvery voice wash over him. The sorceress could make a singer in another life, he muses. A great one, even. Not that he’ll ever admit it to her face, but a bard should recognize talent anywhere.

When Jaskeir is shaken awake by the shoulder, the sky is pitch dark and the tiny cottage is lit by a single candle. It gives out way more light than it should, illuminating everything in sight. Witchcraft will never stop giving Jaskier the creeps.

Geralt is nowhere to be found, and Yennefer looks down at him in pity.

“Come on.” She sounds even gentle; perhaps Jaskier is dying from these broken bones, he muses inwardly. “Do you want it fixed or not?”

Jaskier sits up against soft cushions while Yennefer gathers her herbs and medicine. A cup is shoved before his face and he barely manages to catch it with his hands heavily wrapped, and the content is the most disgusting thing he’s ever tasted.

Shuddering, Jaskier lets loose of his lips just for the momentary satisfaction of revenge. “You are vile, witch.”

Yennefer’s hands stop mid-air right before grabbing another bottle. Sharply, she turns around to observe Jaskier closely, her expression stone-cold, raven hair falling to frame her face elegantly. Jaskier swallows hard.

“Gods, you are the ugliest person I’ve laid eyes on.” Stopping seems an unlikely task right now. Jaskier feels horror sinking into his very core as the warm light gleams in violet eyes. “Your eyes are the most dreadful, and then there’s your voice. Utterly uninspiring. You’d make the most terrible singer if given the chance.”

Seconds tickle by, and Jaskeir expects to be turned into a toad on the spot. It seems Geralt has miscalculated. Bringing Jaskier here will solve his problem once and for all, because he’ll never play the lute again if the rest of his life will be spent on a lilypad. Jaskier feels heat draining from his cheeks, but for the second time, Yennefer surprises him.

The corners of her mouth turn upwards as she casts a silent spell with her fingers. Eyebrows raised, she asks without heat, “more comments for me?”

With a huff, Jaskeir launches again. “Has the great Yennefer of Vengerburg gone soft? I’d imagine with the amount of broken hearts you left in your wake, you would have remade yours with stone.” There’s a sizzle in the air, like magic appearing and fading at the same time, but Jaskier ignores it. “Now what? Not even one insult for me? After I called you the most beautiful person on—” Jaskier snaps his mouth shut, and feels for his tongue.

He’s free.

“Oh,” he lets out the longest exhale, and immediately, “shit.”

Jaskier watches in horror as a smile spreads across Yennefer’s face, the smugness unmasked in the way her arms crossed before her chest. Oh, the price he’d pay just for the ground to swallow him whole right now.

“The most what?”

Jaskier stares at the empty cup in his lap, and then back up at Yennefer.

“You—” he splutters. “Of course.”

“The fae curses come in all shapes and forms. This one was particularly whimsical.” Yennefer leans against her workstation, putting down two corked vials on the table. “Your wrists are bad, but not unsalvageable. Drink these in seven days and they’ll be fine.”

“I thought you could do magic.”

“You might have time to nurse a broken heart, but the rest of us don’t have the luxury. There’s a war. It costs magic.”

Yennefer turns away, and Jaskier looks at her—really looks at her for the first time since stepping into this town. There’s a weariness in the way she carries herself and the self-soothing gesture of pressing her palm on her stomach from time to time. Her make-up is immaculate as ever, but the droop of her lashes speaks of a haunting experience.

“Are you okay?” Jaskier clears his throat, legs tense and ready to go to her, but thinks better of it.

Violet eyes meet him sharply. “And you’re calling me soft?”

Jaskier huffs, almost offended. “You just lifted a fae curse for me out of the goodness of your will. I’d say that’s a reasonable accusation. I … I realize I haven’t said it. Thank you, Yennefer. It was kind of you. Despite what I may have said a few years ago in a drunken fit, I’d hate it if the war claimed you too.”

Remembering that night has Jaskier cringing, but Yennefer only lets out a dry laugh. After all, she did get him back on a few hours later, by tripping him on stage with the wave of a hand. Geralt was never amused by their petty squabbles.

“You are never what I expect you to be, Jaskier.”

“Did you think me incapable of a little gratitude?”

“I thought you incapable of many things.”

“Such as?”

Yennefer straightens her back, the soft curve of her lips fading. “Such as hurting Geralt.”

Shame washes over Jaskeir anew, and he winces. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Jaskier has always been aware that the mountain was not just an ending to his world, but one for the fated romance between Geralt and Yennefer as well. And yet, no matter how angry at the djinn wish, Yennefer still sounds fiercely protective of Geralt.

“I see this is where you turn me into a toad.”

Yennefer taps the vials absently, eyeing at Jaskier’s broken body. “Somehow I feel like you’re punished enough.”

She says that as if Jaskier’s physical wounds are anything compared to how deeply he must have hurt Geralt. The absence of him takes up all the space between Jaskier’s ribcage, and the grief is almost crushing. He sniffles, his nose sore and throat tight.

“You told him?” Jaskier asks, voice small. He doesn’t know which is worse, Geralt leaving believing those words were genuinely Jaskier’s, or him learning about the curse and then choosing to go. A liar, Geralt once called him with affection. Did he anticipate Jaskier would be lying to him too?

He’d hate either answer from Yennefer, but she doesn’t give one. Instead, her tone gentles, “did he realize?”

Jaskier snaps his head up with a crease between his brows. “What?”

“When you were cursed and bleeding, did he realize those lies weren’t yours?”

Jaskier sags with sorrow.

“You know the answer.”

Yennefer moves around the table and sits behind it, the magic candle obscuring her expression. There could be a hint of regret, but Jaskier doesn’t dare to assume.

“He didn’t recognize the looks of a man with his choices taken.”

Jaskier shakes his head like a rattle. “It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t have known.”

“Because Geralt was ready to believe your lies from the start,” she sighs. “As if you could ever utter those words. As if someone might want to stay with him simply because they wish to.”

No, his heart was not the only one that broke on top of the mountain.

“Do you think,” Jaskier tries, “if he told you about—”

“It’s too late for us,” she waves him off, readying parchment and a quill. “I don’t bother myself with could-have-beens, and neither should him, but.”

The implication hangs in the air.

Jaskier gets up, observing Yennefer’s long, meaningful look, and chuckles tightly. “You truly have gone soft, witch.”

“Don’t come to me dying again, bardling. A third time, I might just let you.”

“No, you won’t.”

Thanking Yennefer again is easy, so is the jab she returns, but finding Geralt becomes the only thing on Jaskier’s mind, so much so that he’s only doubling back after rushing out the door.

“Almost forgot.” He pockets the potions, albeit clumsily. “And where…?”

“There’s only one way out of town. He left not long ago.” Yennefer has begun writing a letter, not even looking up.

“Perfect.”

“I’m serious about the dying.”

Jaskier suppresses the urge to give her a kiss as they bid a final goodbye, and runs out into the night.

It’s not too late for them.

He just needs to make it right. Apologize, explain… Anything that can convince Geralt that he never meant those words, that he’s never seen Geralt as anything but the truest friend, that he’s loved, completely and unreservedly.

It dawns on Jaskier that in the span of only a few days, his and Geralt’s roles have reversed.

~~

A big thanks to Beginte on AO3 for pointing out the parallel between Jaskier and Geralt. Now they've switched roles and Jaskier is the one who said words he didn't mean and desperately wants to apologize.

Ah, the final chapter, here I come. Although I have no timeframe for my writing these days; school is starting to get busy and I am whelmed by the amount of paperwork involved in moving to a new country. Be patient with me, as I am with the local banking efficiency.

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard​ @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod @kuripon @holymotherwolf

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #lying spell #reverse tropes #lying potion #hurt jaskier #blood and injury #jaskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerburg #cursed jaskier #angst #(not for long)

[nillabeam]

libido

synopsis: bakugou is hit with a quirk that inexplicably increases his libido and he seeks you out for some sweet release!!

pairings: bakugoxf!reader

warnings: languAGE, some petting, masturbation mentions, mature but like nothing too crazy

a/n: ahaha this is just me being an unoriginal thirsty tease tbh also please excuse the bad grammar and bad writing since i didnt really edit this also reader has like a strength quirk or whatever just so the parts where she overpowers him are legit 

He had been hit with some dumbass libido quirk or some shit. It didn’t seem to be working as he wasn’t craving sex anymore than he normally did. Still Aizawa pulled him into his office after Bakugou had come home from his internship.

“I’m fine.” He spat. Aizawa rubbed his temples, his voice tired. “I know you feel that way now but the quirk can take a while to take effect, so if anything changes come get me.” Bakugou stood up hands buried in his pockets. “Yeah, whatever.” He scoffed and saw himself out of Aizawa’s office.

He was fine. That dumb villain’s quirk didn’t have any effect on him. He was fine.

Up until he saw you. You were sitting on the couch in the lounge with Deku and Ochaco, you were all going over some homework or something. You looked up at him as he entered, it was innocent enough, just checking to see who had walked in. But the second your eyes met his he felt a sudden surge of lust wash over him. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. His face was suddenly hot, and his throat was dry, and he swore he could feel his jeans start to tighten.

Deku offered a smile and a wave, “Kachan how was—“ Bakugou cut him off, “SHUT YOUR STUPID MOUTH DEKU.” He made a beeline for the stairs, taking them two at a time toward his dorm. Deku looked at the girls who both made a face. “Maybe he had a bad day?” Ochaco offered. “He always acts like that, maybe he had a good day.” You said with a smile and Deku looked less concerned after that.

Bakugou slammed his bedroom door shut, locking it behind him. He immediately threw himself onto his hands and knees, panting heavily, a thick blush covered his face. He gripped his tank top trying to pry it from his now sweat dampened skin. He let out slow calculated breaths, trying desperately to calm himself down.

His mind was suddenly overwhelmed with filth. He imagined you every which way. On your knees his cock filling your tight cunt, his hands tangled in your hair. Your soft moans filling his dorm room. He imagined his fingers down your throat as he fucked you raw into the mattress. He imagined how good his name would sound falling from your perfect lips.

“Fuck—“ he groaned, palming the growing erection in his pants. He just needed a release that was all he would be fine after that. He forced himself to his feet, and tore off his clothes. He started the shower, his body shaking with want, he didn’t bother to wait for the water to heat properly before he entered.

He pleasured himself with more vigor than he normally did, craving that sweet release. He needed it. He let his mind wander to the worst places. His cock down your throat, how it would feel with you gagging around him. His hand around your neck a complete mess as he fucked you senseless. How many times could he make you cum?

It didn’t take long before a low groan fell from his lips, thick ropes of cum circled the drain. Yet—he still needed more. The burning in his chest worsened even. He needed you. His own hand simply would not do.

He turned off the shower, he dried himself off as quickly as he could. He tugged on a clean shirt and sweats, skipping the boxers entirely. He wouldn’t be needing them.

He opened his door slowly, thankfully it was quiet in the halls. It was a school night after all, and with a final coming up everyone was in their rooms studying. He still crept down the hallway and up the stairs to the next floor. The burning in his chest worsened the closer he got to your dorm.

When he finally reached the door, he lingered outside for a moment. He knew how much trouble he could get in, Aizawa was right and the quirk had taken longer to effect Bakugou for whatever reason. He debated going to see Aizawa. But his body moved on his own, despite his better judgement, and instead of knocking he turned the doorknob, to his pleasant surprise it was open. You turned to see who had opened your door without knocking. You figured Mina or Denki but it was Bakugou, face flush, breathing ragged.

He pressed his palms against the doorframe. “Y/N—“ Your annoyed look changed into concern. “Bakugou—h-hey are you okay?” He staggered forward a bit closing the door behind him with the heel of his foot. He didn’t even think to lock it. Here you were in front of him, only wearing an oversized t-shirt, clearly he had interrupted you while you were changing. He so desperately hoped you had nothing on underneath. You met his gaze and felt a heat pool in your stomach

He licked his lower lip, his gaze hungry, his voice thick with lust as he spoke. “I need you—“ You felt your hair on the back of your neck stand up, this tone sending chills up your spine. “W-what?” You breathed out your reply, a little embarrassed that just his voice could fluster you like that. He was on you a literal second later. His large hands gripped your face tightly tilting your head up to look at him, you gripped his shirt instinctively in your fists trying to keep some distance between you.

“Kiss me—p-please just—fuck—“ He dug one of his hands into your hair tilting your head back further. You whined at the pain, the fire burned brighter in his chest at the noises you were making. “B-Bakugou—please—“ Your voice is hoarse and downright pathetic, which honestly, pisses you off that your body was responding to his actions so eagerly. His breath hitched and he made one final attempt to talk himself out of it. 

His lips crashed violently against yours, he forced his tongue into your mouth rubbing it greedily against your own. You tensed at the sudden intrusion. You mustered up the self control to push his face away, forcing him to pull back. “What the hell is wrong with you?” You question, breathless from the forceful kiss.

His fingers gripped at your waist, he licked his lips again, why did they feel so fucking dry?? He lifted you up easily by your thighs, by reflex you held onto his neck for dear life. “You taste so fucking good, Princess—“ he said, tone low and husky. You felt a pleasant heat pool in your belly at the pet name. He’d never called you that before. Fuck he was sexy. Shit not the point. He tossed you onto the bed, and you let out a small whine. “Bakugou stop—w-we can’t—“ He crawled on top of you, caging you between his arms. “I know—i’m sorry—“ he did truly sound apologetic but the need in him was greater than his self control. “I can’t help it, I can’t stop thinking about you, how fucking sexy you are, how tight your little cunt must be—“ He dipped down to capture you in another heated kiss.

This time you pushed his face away with more force. “You’re ruining it—“ You spat. You flipped him over onto his back, hating that you had to use your quirk on him but he didn’t really leave you much of a choice. You were sitting nicely on top of his waist and you could feel just how desperate he was for you. It pissed you off. You had this stupid back and forth unspoken romance between the two of you and you wanted your first kiss to mean something. Instead here was this idiot you liked for reasons you still couldn’t exactly explain, acting like a drunken fool. Demanding your love.

You held his face in your hand, pinching his cheeks together in an effort to snap him out of it, “Stop it.” You commanded. Bakugou ignored your efforts completely, and took two of your fingers into his mouth and started to suck on them. You pulled them away immediately, a thick blush now coating your cheeks. “Our first time wasn’t supposed to go this way, you dumb—“ You flinched as his hands snuck up your shirt, his palms kneading the soft plush flesh of your braless breasts. You pull his hands out of your shirt with more force than necessary, and pin them above his head.

He groaned deeply at the lack of touch. “Please—Y/N please—“ He begged. You shudder at the desperation in his voice. Were you a bad person because you actually liked how desperate he was for you? Probably. He rutting his hips up into yours and you jumped off of the bed, bolting for the door. He caught you more easily than you would have liked to admit. He was behind you now, his strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You felt his hips roll into your nearly bare ass.

“You feel so fucking good—Y/N—please I need you so badly—I can’t fucking stand it—“ A trembling palm reached into your thin panties, he rubbed feverishly against your slick, “F-Fuck you’re so fucking wet—is—is that all for me?” He moaned, you squirmed in his arms, trying to ignore how good his fingers felt against your slit. “I can’t believe you’re going to make me do this—“ you mumbled.

In an instant you tore his hands from you, admittedly soaked, panties and shoved him to the ground. Your strength far greater than his now, thanks to your trusty quirk. You threw the door open. He looked surprised, he tried to stand but his shaking body betrayed him and he fell back down to his knees. “Where are you going?? W-Wait-” The panic in his voice made you weak for a moment. You debated staying, and letting him do just whatever he wanted to you. Finally, you turned on your heels, forcing yourself to look away from the beautiful desperate mess in front of you. “To get Aizawa—“

Aizawa brought in recovery girl and they had him fixed up more or less. He was still horny as fuck but they said that would subside soon enough, and his fever was gone. “You’re lucky Y/N came and got me when she did—“ The brunette leaned forward so only Bakugou could hear him, “If you had gone any further, well let’s just say expelling you would be the least of your problems.” Bakugou tensed at his normally aloof and suddenly much more intense, teachers words. And he suddenly felt a pang of shame in his chest. “Thankfully Y/N is stubborn and defended you—I went against my better judgement and left you alone, so this is partially my fault so I take some responsibility, but try and be more responsible next time.”

And with that he left Bakugou with his thoughts. Dirty, terrible thoughts. But not so bad that they controlled him anymore.

You sauntered in shortly after. Wearing pants now. You crossed your arms over your chest. He forced his gaze onto the sheets beneath his hands. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay—“ you said, your voice softer than he expected it to be.

“You’re a grade A idiot though, you could have told me what was going on.” He scoffed. “Would that have changed anything?” He replied, voice laced with annoyance. You took a second to debate internally. “No probably not—“ You admitted and sat down on the edge of his bed. “You should have just gone to Aizawa—“ You added and he gripped the sheets. “Don’t you think I fucking know that—I wanted to—at first,” he explained. “but the second I saw you—I wanted to—you know—more, I guess.” You covered your mouth, stifling a laugh.

“I honestly expected more self control from the great Katsuki Bakugou.” You admitted, a tinge of disappointment in your mocking tone. He felt that guilt again. “I’m sorry—i’m sorry I don’t want you to see me like i’m some fucking asshole—“ You shifted slightly towards him. “No! Never, I just wasn’t expecting it—“ You had a soft flush painted on your cheeks.

It was quiet for a few moments before he worked up the courage to speak. “So, what was that? When you said that I, ruined our first time—“ You tensed up immediately at his question. Well cat was out of the bag. “You did.” You admitted. “I wanted it to be more—meaningful, or something..” You rubbed the back of your neck, a soft blush creeping onto your face. “I honestly thought you wouldn’t remember that—“ You added. He smirked and you were happy to see him loosen up a little. “Was that a confession?” He questioned mockingly and you flicked his nose in response. “Just forget that I ever said anything, okay. This is your fault not mine, dummy.” You stood up and he fought with everything in him not to grab you and pull you back onto the bed with him. But he met your comment with a trademark “Tch.” 

“Get some sleep, pervert!” You yell back to him before slamming the door behind you.

#bakugo x reader #bakugo imagine #bnha imagines #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha smut #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #nillabeamwrites

[littlemisslipbalm]

“Okay, lover boy”

For @bfharry boyfriendathon!!! A trip to Paris with your loving boyfriend Harry!

this gif bc sweetie! but also bc this is the coat he’s wearing :)

We’ve got fluff, (a little) angst, and smut for y’all and music always. I love Paris, was actually there this time last year so I was feeling nostalgic! Also Harry in Europe is always A+++ Hope y’all enjoy and feedback is ALWAYS appreciateddd

Word Count: 5.2k | Warnings: some self-doubt, oral!male receiving, mentions of sex, language? 

-

Summer in Paris. The most romantic place in the world with the loveliest weather. Except, the weather wasn’t exactly lovely. But it was quite romantic and that’s what you decided to focus on. Harry and you had flown off to get away from the world by living in the South of France for the Summer. First, you had begged Harry to spend a good three days in Paris before heading to the countryside. He had obviously agreed. Today was your second day.

“Love, wake up,” Harry cooed softly in your ear.

You stirred in the plush bed and slowly sat up in the mess of sheets. You rubbed at your eyes and when you blinked them open you saw Harry standing before you. He was already dressed in striped trousers and a striped shirt under a sweater vest and seemed to have run out to bring you coffee in bed. He crossed to perch on the bed and leaned forward to kiss your cheek. Your body leaned in to receive the sweet peck of his soft lips.

“Good morning, love, y’look ravishing” he sighed sweetly as he pulled back from your face. You rolled your eyes and scratched at your disheveled hair.

Moving your head in a circle around your neck, you laughed breathily at all of his sweet words, “I look a mess, but thanks, H.”

“You don’t,” he protested, sliding his hands around your shoulders and moving to lay on top of you on the bed.

You giggled and wriggled in the sheets as he began to pepper kisses along your face, neck and collarbones. “You’re absolutely stunning. Like always.”

The pair of you rolled around in the bed, exchanging kisses and caressing each other tenderly. Then you heard the rain and sat up.

“Har...is it still raining?”

He sighed and sat up with you, pushing his mused curls out of his face with one hand while his other was wrapped around your waist. “Sadly, yes. But we can still go out and explore. I know how excited you were to finally be back in Paris...”

Your head turned to rest in the crook of his neck, sighing softly, “It’s alright. I love the rain, can’t get me down.”

“Yeah, we can just take umbrellas and have fun with it.”

“No, no umbrellas. Want to run from awning to awning. Get stuck in the rain and be drenched. With you.”

Your lips had curved up into a smile as you spoke. Resting your head on Harry’s warm body, you imagined the day that the two of you were about to set off on. It wouldn’t be perfect and that would be okay. It was going to be what the two of you make of it therefore you wanted to make it magical. You sat up to meet Harry’s eyes as he cradled you in his arms. His face held a soft expression, one filled with love as he looked down at the woman he had grown to love more than anything. It wasn’t fleeting, it was constant. He loved you.

“Alright, let’s get goin’ then,” he laughed and shifted along the bed, sitting you up more. The hint of teasing in his voice was exciting and made you want to listen to him.

You pushed out of his arms and bounced up, your shirt sliding to cover the top bits of your thighs. “Alright!”

-

“Okay, maybe one umbrella would have been a good idea!” Laughing in disbelief, you duck beneath the awning of the cafe across the street from your hotel.

“It’s really coming down...but you said,” Harry grins down at you and swipes at a strand of your hair that was already drenched from the rain. You swat at his chest, his yellow knit sweater vest dry as he removes his large blue coat. “Hush.”

The cafe plays a love song in French and you hum along softly as you seat yourselves. Harry’s hand instinctively envelopes yours as your other free hands begin to leaf through the menu. His hand is warm and soft as it entangles itself with your own, which squeezes his in response to the brushing of his thumb over your skin. After placing your order, you watch the rain hitting the pavement and the light city traffic before you. Harry only has eyes for you, his gaze never leaving your figure. He takes you in, the way you’ve done your hair, the necklace you picked out - the one you always wear, the way you decided to wear no makeup since you planned on getting wet in the rain.

Bringing him out of his adoration, the waitress brings your drinks and he watches you say something sweet in french before he also says a ‘merci’. You sigh in contentment and shift in your seat after taking a sip of your espresso. Your eyes meet with Harry’s over the top of your small cup and you giggle at how extremely small the same cup looks in his hand. His dimples appear as he mirrors your expression. Then at the opening chords of the new song beginning to play, you perk up, immediately recognizing “Aline”, a clichely French song, but a favorite of yours nonetheless. You place your cup down and begin to sing along. Harry watches on, sipping his espresso and allowing you to swing your intertwined hands back and forth to the rhythm. You tip your head back and mock scream out the words, your french accent changing how your voice normally sounds.

“Is that a love song?” Harry asks at the finish of the song. He never bothered to learn French, despite having a couple of girlfriends who had been able to speak it.

You wet your lips, dried from singing, and shake your head slightly. “No, not really. It’s about heartbreak... Aline - the girl - is gone, I guess, and he’s drawn an image of her in the sand. But rain washes that away as well and now he’s twice as sad”

“That could still be considered a love song. He still loves her, right?”

“I guess.”

“Why do you like it so much?”

You hum, pondering the question, never thinking about what made her like the song so much to consider it a favorite. Harry stares intently, he loved talking to you about music. It was two of his favorite things put together.

“You won’t take ‘I just like shouting Aline’ will you?” Harry shakes his head, and you continue, “I guess I like it because it’s so tragic...and a little pathetic. Like, that sounds harsh, but this guy, he’s so in love with someone who’s already gone that he cries over her image washing away. He says he’s aching he’s so distraught and it’s just, it’s so relatable.” Harry stares at you, eyes soft, knowing you have more to say. Sitting so that your back is straight, you work to put your thoughts into words. “He’s calling out her name ‘Aline’ in hopes she will return to him and it’s just like you never want to feel that way in your entire life. But there are times that you do and you’re the pathetic guy crying over sand and watching it wash away into the ocean.”

“I will never make you feel like that, love,” Harry shifts your hands and brings them onto the table, leaning closer, a somewhat pleading look in his eyes.

“You never would on purpose, I know that. But that feeling it’s human insecurity, that’s the little fears I keep tucked away in the back of my mind, it’s how I’d feel if I ever lost you.”

“You’re never going to lose me,” he leans fully forward to bring his lips to yours. His lips easily brushed over yours, connecting perfectly as they always did. Your hand rescinds from his grasp and you place it on his chest, pushing him back slightly, “I know. Now enough with the mushy. Sights to be seen, clothes to be soaked!”

Laughing together, Harry settles the bill as you gather your things. You help Harry put his heavy coat back on after he finishes with the money, your lips pecking his as you fix the lapel. His lips curve into a smile against yours and his eyelashes flutter in excitement, never getting tired of the feeling of you.

-

You had finally arrived at the grass in front of the Eiffel Tower, where you had been meandering through the city to all day. Before you had arrived Harry and you had stopped in a chocolatier, a perfumerie, and another cafe - pair of you appreciated good coffee. Harry had begged to stop at a boulangerie to pick up bread, but you had insisted that you could stop at one on the way back to the hotel later, otherwise the bread would get all soggy. Eventually, Harry had agreed even though his argument was that he would eat it before it got soggy.

Running around with a canvas tote on your shoulder filled with the goodies you two had picked up was exciting and you spun around on the grass, your head tilted to the rain and your arms and bag flying out around you. Harry grabbed your waist and then slipped a hand up to cradle your wet hair. His hand carded through the tendrils and you tilted your face to look at him. His own wet chestnut hair flopped onto his forehead as he smiled down at you. You threw your arms up to hang on his shoulders. It was only you two out in the rain and you laughed as you watched a single droplet run the length of Harry’s nose. Craning your neck, you kissed the tip of his nose before it could fall.

“I love you,” Harry says only for you, completely unprompted.

“I love you, Harry,” you respond, lovingly.

“No, Y/N, I love you,” He repeats. Your wrists drop as your arms retract and your hands rest on his strong shoulders. You lean back slightly, confused. “I love you, I love you, I love you!” He starts to shout and picks you up by the waist, spinning you around in circles, slightly off the ground now.

“Harry!” You squeal, incredulous at his behavior. You loved it, but he wasn’t usually like this in public. Hand holding and short hugs, usually. Small pecks, at most. Shouting declarations of love, never - until now.

“Ok! I get it, lover boy,” You roll your eyes as he sets you down, placing kisses all over your rain soaked face. You tuck your head into your chest, feeling heat rise to your cheeks from his words and actions despite the cooling effect of the rain.

He smiles and leads the pair of you towards the Eiffel Tower. Halfway there he stops and snaps a few photos of you grinning, drenched in front of the site. Then you make him pose as well. He smiles for a few and then pretends to lean against it, which makes you roll your eyes again while you move to the perfect spot to make it look realistic.

You begin to move to head towards the tower again, but his hand snakes around your wrist, stopping you from moving. The rain was at a soft patter now, but you still were getting tired of being in it. Your brows raised expectantly at your boyfriend who was smiling adorably at you.

“Selfie.” He said simply.

“Harry...”

“C’mon. It’s romantic. Not like there’s anyone around to take it for us.”

You shrug and fold into his chest as he slips out his phone. His other hand slips around your waist, pulling you even closer. Your head rests on the upper part of his chest as one of your hands slips underneath his coat and the other goes to rest on his sternum. Your entire body is pressed against him, as he adjusts his phone trying to get both your faces in it along with a good portion of the Eiffel Tower. You both smile at your reflections that are beginning to smudge with raindrops and you ruffle your hair trying to look slightly disheveled after a few snaps. Then, Harry groans sadly, “These aren’t working.”

“I actually have an idea,” you say excitedly as the rain slows to a complete stop, “You okay with your phone possibly getting some water damage?” Harry nods, unsure, as you pluck the phone from his hands. You stroll a few feet away from Harry and pluck two of the boxes of chocolate out of your bag. Mumbling to yourself, you set up the boxes like a makeshift stand, “Please don’t get ruined, mes bonbons.” Then you swipe to the video choice in the phone’s camera and turn it on. You place it gently against the two boxes, so that the image contains Harry and the Eiffel Tower behind him. Then you race back to Harry, your sneakers splashing the puddles as you move.

“You’re brilliant!” He wraps his arms around your shoulders and sways you back and forth. “Smile at the camera, lover,” you pull from his strong grasp and wrap a single arm beneath his coat again, fingers pulling at the warm fabric of the sweater vest beneath it. He smiles down at you before turning his focus to the phone a little ways off. He tightens his arm around your shoulder and pulls you off your feet slightly, causing one of your legs to kick out slightly. This video is going to be so weird, you think to yourself and laugh as you straighten back up. You turn your face to Harry and scrunch it up at him. He smirks back at you and then leans down to kiss your cheek.

After you mess around a bit in front of the camera, forgetting for a minute that you're recording and having a small makeout session, you run back to your set up and gather your things. Harry comes with you this time and hugs your waist from behind you. He smiles at the camera one last time before you press the red button to end the video; the last clip being his face smiling brightly while you’re laughing breathlessly at him, both sets of eyes filled with love and joy.

-

There’s a restaurant inside the Eiffel Tower. It’s really beautiful and classy, perfectly French. Harry decides it’s the perfect place to have dinner, despite its upscale interior and your complete dishevelment from the rain and lack of preparedness in your outfit choices. As well as, the fact that it’s really early and the French don’t eat until much later in the evening so you’re the only ones there. Harry knocks on the door still and the pair of you are seated after he tells them who he is.

You comb lightly through your wet hair and you shuffle your vans together, uncomfortably. Harry, while dressed down still manages to look effortlessly chic, his trousers and yellow sweater vest with a striped dress shirt underneath is still passable as nice, especially if you ignore his own vans. In your haste you had dressed cute, but not necessarily upscale enough to where you felt like you fit in in that moment. Your wet hair wasn’t helping to calm your nerves as the well dressed waiters moved around you, placing things at your table. Your nervous hands smoothed over the plaid skirt and frumpy brown sweater you had beneath your navy trench coat that almost mirrored Harry’s only missing the colorful bobbles.

“Hey,” Harry notices your fidgeting and reaches out across the table, motioning you to place your hand in his outstretched one. You oblige reluctantly, shifting in your seat. Money has never been a problem for Harry since the pair of you began to date which wasn’t a bad thing. You had a job that allowed you to live a comfortable lifestyle, as well, just not quite to the extreme that Harry was able to. Normally, it didn’t bother you, but right now you felt very out of place, feeling unwelcome in Harry’s life. Harry can read exactly what you’re thinking as all these negative thoughts race through your mind. The odd sense of fear that the pair of you had talked about creeping in, the thought of losing him because you couldn’t keep up with his lifestyle. Like you had told him earlier, as well, you hope to never feel that way, but sometimes it’s there. And right now was one of those sometimes.

His finger traces the familiar pattern over the back of your hand as he holds it tight. “You deserve to be here just as much as the next person. You look lovely.” He smiles at you, trying to convey just how sincere he is being. You release a breath and try to relax at his words, knowing ultimately that he was right. He always knew exactly what to say and you smiled at him and whispered a small ‘thank you.’

-

“If I Fell” begins to play in the restaurant and John and Paul begin to serenade the empty room. The host had placed you in the furthest back room by the windows, allowing you and Harry to stare out at the city as you enjoyed the food and leaving you completely alone except for when the waiter would come and check in. The two of you had just finished the third course and were watching the clouds shift along the skyline.

Harry sighed contentedly and leaned back against his chair, straining his neck to the side, the tendon on his neck straining, causing your eyes to flicker up and watch the way he clenched and unclenched his strong jaw. You were in awe. “How did I get so lucky?” You say suddenly, your voice wistful, eyes a moment away from misty. Harry hums, jade eyes flitting back to your face, lips curving into a curious smile. “To be loved by someone like you, by you. How’d I get so lucky?”

Harry blushes at your words, the smile growing larger, overtaking his features. “Love, if I could list all the reasons I love you...God, we’d never leave this restaurant. Let’s just say I’m the one who’s lucky.” You pouted at his words, feeling cliche but also, totally and completely in love, so much so that you didn’t care about what you looked like as you stood up and leaned over the table, crashing your lips to Harry’s. He leaned up quickly to meet your lips over the small table. One of his hands flew to your soft cheek and held you close as your lips locked, tasting sweet from the champagne the two of you had been enjoying.

-

“Today was perfect, H.”

You glanced up to look at Harry’s face as he held you in his arms, walking slowly down the street. He walked slightly behind you as he braced himself around you, he couldn’t get enough of you, couldn’t touch enough, feel enough, breathe enough, where he would feel satisfied.

His eyes flitted down to meet yours, the jade of them sparkling under the cloudy sky save for the moon that had pushed its light through finally. “Yeah it was.”

Reaching the hotel, the two of you scampered up to your room and threw everything down the minute you got inside. The rain had mostly dried from your clothes, but you still couldn’t wait to take them off and get into something clean and warm.

“Do you want to shower?” Harry calls to you as he unpacks your bag, separating all of the items the pair of you had bought today - including the baguette he had finally gotten on your way home. Your head appeared from beneath your sweater as you pulled it from your body, leaving you standing in your bra and skirt.

“Together?” Your voice was calm since Harry and you occasionally showered together and were capable of keeping it tame, but there was a hint of excitement too after spending the whole day constantly within each other’s grasp.

“Sure, why not? Then we can get in bed and try the chocolates we bought today sooner,” he shrugs, making his way towards you, tossing a box of chocolates on the bed for later. He licks his lips and smirks down at you. “I like the way you think...but no funny business, lover boy,” you tease and run a finger down the center of his chest, only his dress shirt covering the toned body beneath. Your eyes have a glint of mischief in them as your words come out rather jokingly. “No promises,” he breathes before placing a chaste kiss to your lips.

In the bathroom now, Harry closes the door despite the lack of need for privacy. For some reason your heart is beating extremely fast, nerves springing forward at the urgent prospect of intimacy. Your heart always beats a little faster whenever Harry and you are together like this, but right now it’s going especially fast. The love you have for him, the passion, it’s never faded. Everytime is like the first time, maybe even better than the first time if you really think about it because now he knows you and you know him. It’s not about the novelty or the exploration, it’s about the adoration and the feeling each other’s touch ignites within you. So, right now, as the pair of you undress each other before you shower together, your heart is beating so fast because this isn’t lust or fleeting passion it’s eternal intimacy and deep devotion.

His fingers softly and nimbly release the clasp of your bra and then reach around to slip the straps down. It slides down your arms and falls to the ground and Harry watches you as you now move to undo the last few buttons of his shirt. You’re pressing close to him, feeling cold and slightly vulnerable despite being safe in Harry’s presence. The movements are tender, only the sound of your breathing and the rain that started up again bringing any noise to your interaction. Your hands flit down to the buttons on his trousers, your fingers shaking only slightly from the chill. Harry’s toned arms rise up to rub your upper arms, noticing your shivering as you undo the buttons and zipper. After his zipper is undone, you move your hands down to your side, where your own zipper is located, but Harry pushes your hands away, silently telling you he could do it. Sighing, you turn from him and turn the shower on, hoping that it will warm up quickly. Harry follows and presses up against you, his large arms encircling your frame, warming you instantly. He kisses the tip of your left shoulder tenderly and then rests his chin in the dip between your shoulder and neck. He breathes you in, taking in the moment, committing it to memory. Your hands rest over his gently and you feel yourself tilting your head back and basking in his embrace.

“We should probably get in,” Harry whispers after you had been standing there for far too long, simply holding each other. “Yeah,” you respond wistfully. Stepping in, you instantly place a kiss on Harry’s neck once he’s in. He looks at you questioningly, “I thought you said-” “I couldn’t help myself, you look like an angel.” He tucks his head at your words and then looks at you with love filled eyes, “Giving me a toothache with how sweet you are to me.”

He takes the bottle of shampoo the pair of you had brought and begins to massage it into your wet hair. You close your eyes in contentment at his actions, you loved how gentle Harry was and how he always insisted on washing your hair when you showered together. As he works on the hair you take the bar of soap and begin to rub it across his prominent pectorals, the suds show up and glisten across his tan skin. You smile to yourself as you pass over the two swallows and then travel down the center of his chest and bring the soap over the butterfly. Harry lets out a breathy laugh and you mutter, “Always so ticklish…” But you don’t mind. You rub some of the soap on your hands and then rub back over the same places on his body, spreading out the suds, while Harry moves to wash his own hair. This time your hands travel further down his body, your soapy fingers massaging Harry’s bare hips, rubbing soothing circles over the tense muscles from walking all day. Harry releases a heavy sigh, your movements releasing a pressure he hadn’t realized was there.

Your hands travel inwards and dance over his two fern tattoos causing Harry to shudder again. This time you say nothing, focussed on tracing the patterns and being so close to your lover. Finally, you remove your hands from his body and rinse them of the soap, grabbing a washcloth, you finish cleaning his arms, neck, and torso. Moving slowly, you drop the washcloth and Harry’s breath hitches, knowing what you’re intending to do. Harry starts, “You don’t-” but now his voice is completely caught in his throat when you put your hands on his length.

He’s already semi-hard, and it stiffens immediately in your embrace. He has to actively think about not getting hard whenever you’re naked around him, especially when you bathe together. He thinks you’re sexy, of course, but the intimate touches you share under the water is what really does it for him. However, he knows it’s not a sexual moment usually and doesn’t want to press himself upon you. Today, though, you want to take care of him. “Hush, I want to,” you say as you pump your hand languidly, blood rushing to his tip instantly. He groans as you stare deeply into his jade eyes. You were beautiful and wonderful to him. He didn’t know how he had found you, but he was happy that he had.

Then you slip down to your knees, legs folding perfectly as you continue to stare up at Harry. His eyes widen, realizing only now that you intended to use your mouth. One hand flies to your freshly cleaned hair and the other trails down the side of your face, taking in your beautiful face that is now in front of his hard member. Slowly, you bring your tongue to lick over the now angry red tip of his dick. Harry hisses as you open your mouth fully and begin to bring him completely inside. Your eyes never leave his as you descend until he hits the back of your throat. He’s big, really big, but after all this time you know how much you can take and you sit there for a moment. You let his weight rest in your mouth, he’s warm and you enjoy holding him this close.

Harry groans, “Please,” and you begin to move, seeing the strained look on his face.

Bobbing your head, you take him in and out of your mouth with ease, sometimes taking extra care over his head sucking specifically there. Your movements make Harry moan out and grasp at your hair, keeping it from your face as you work him over. His hips buck into your mouth the faster you take him in your mouth, but he tries to remain still, wanting you to be in control. One of your hands grasps his thigh, over his tiger tattoo, while the other runs over the parts of his dick you can’t take into your mouth. Harry is always vocal, but right now he’s at a loss for words. He feels so loved and cared for in that moment, it’s quick to his release. Your hand on his thigh feels him beginning to shake a bit more and his hips are stuttering more erratically.

He whines out, “I’m close,” and you pull back until your lips are only over his head.

Your tongue flattens over the slit of it and then swirls around it. You suction your lips around his head and suck hard, your hand pumping quickly, your eyes still never leaving Harry’s face. He had closed his eyes a while ago, but opens them up slightly right at his moment of release. He bucks his hips one last time as you moan around him at the feeling of him inside your mouth. His orgasm wracks through him and you continue to suck, trying to take up every last bit.

“Oh fuck,” Harry whimpers, chest heaving and head hanging low as he stares down at you.

The water is still running in the shower over your erotic image. You swallow and pull off of him, placing a gentle kiss to his head before standing up, whispering something inaudible to just Harry’s dick. Harry takes your hands in his and kisses you hungrily as you stand up. The taste of himself still on your lips. His arms are wrapped around your waist and one of his hands cups your ass cheek needily.

Against your lips, he growls, his voice deep and accent thick, “Let me take care of you now.”

You giggle and place your hands on his wet chest. “You don’t need to. I just really wanted to make you feel good.”

“But making you feel good will make me feel good, too,” He whines, pressing you into him more.

“Oh, I know,” you laugh, “But we’re really wasting water now and I want to try the chocolates we bought. You can make me feel good in our bed, this porcelain really isn’t the most comfortable.” You’re completely enjoying Harry’s eagerness to give to you after he had just received, but you were starting to prune from the water and wanted to lie in bed with fluffy robes with him.

He huffs but nods. He kisses your lips a final time and begins to climb out of the shower. “Fine, but I know none of those chocolates can possibly taste as good as what I really want for dessert.”

“You can have your dessert soon enough...Okay, lover boy?”

-

Wrapped up in Harry’s warm embrace, you fall asleep under the Parisian sky. His lips ghost over your collarbones as his head is tucked into you. You sigh in contentment as his hands draw a familiar pattern over your skin on top of your hip. Your mind flits over the moments of today and settles on this one right now. Harry wrapped around you, your legs entangled, warmth surrounding you. It’s peaceful. You’re blissed out from the chocolates and love Harry made to you.

Your eyes flutter open for a moment to look at Harry. His curls and the side of his face are all you can make out in the dim lit room, the moon’s light peaking through the sheer curtains. The slope of his nose is prominent, as well as the stubble beginning to grow on his jaw and cheek. His little moles decorating his otherwise smooth skin. He nuzzles further into you and you feel his stubble rubbing slightly against you, scratching lovingly onto your skin. It feels nice as your eyes close once again beginning to drift off to sleep. But you know no dream could possibly be better than the feeling you have right now, with Harry.

-

💛 love y’all (also I really didn’t proofread so like I maybe contradict some shit I say bc I wrote this over weeks lmao)

#boyfriendathon #boyfriend!harry #bf!harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles is domestic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #i finally posted something #yay #i hope yall enjoy #i got heart eyes while writing this #like i wanna do this

[astranva]

Daffodil

Word Count: 3.1k

Category: Angst

Warning: Some strong language.

Inspired by lines from Lana Del Rey’s excerpt from her poetry book – ‘L.A, Who Am I To Love You?’

“And also I can't sleep without you No one's ever really held me like you Not quite tightly, but certainly I feel your body next to me.”

Daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings.

 It was suffocating.

Oxygen wasn’t always an ally, at least not there and then for Harry. He had changed t-shirts 4 times after each one got soaked with his own sweat, before finally resorting to taking a shower.

His body felt limp, like it was on auto-pilot mode and he wasn’t in control of it, only watching as his legs dragged him to the room he tried to avoid if it was anything of no necessity.

He remembers a time when he loved the full-body mirror that stood in the room. He remembers the amount of pictures that one mirror caught, the amount of kisses it had witnessed. But as he passed, his stomach flipped upside now.

He had been avoiding seeing his face for far too long, could go as far and say that he hadn’t seen himself since it happened, a month ago.

But he caught a glimpse of himself and he couldn’t help but divert all his attention to the reflection that stared back at him. His hair was greasy, red blotches on his cheeks that seemed to mock him for crying too much for his skin’s own liking, puffy eyes, dry lips that reminded him that the alcohol he sipped at wasn’t what his body needed and that it needed water. He looked…pathetically sad.

But he was okay with it, being sad. Of course he was, how couldn’t he?

He looked dull – dead. Harry grimaced at the sight, his heart seeming to break and shatter even more – if possible – at the sight, feeling as if he couldn’t really recognize himself.

He took a shaky breath, tearing his gaze away from the reflection before moving along with the simple task; showering.

He hadn’t bothered taking out clothes prior to stepping inside the bathroom, wanting to just get it over with.

Harry took off his t-shirt and boxers, throwing them in the hamper before his eyes caught sight of it. Her toothbrush.

His mind was loud, screaming at him to keep his hands to himself, to get his shit together and maybe throw the damn brush away but he shut that off, reaching to grab the vibrant green toothbrush with rough bristles, as if confirming the absence of its owner.

“Fuck,” he cursed, feeling his nose itch before he set the toothbrush back in its rightful place, right beside the hair cream she used to use.

It probably didn’t help that he used her minty shampoo and coconut shower gel, mindlessly doing so. He hated how dependent he was on her, even when she wasn’t there but he didn’t know any better and he didn’t want to.

Harry’s shower was quick, as if he was in hurry to get out of the place that held so much of her belongings. The cold water didn’t soothe his muscles either, it only tensed them more, making him shower with a clenched jaw as he struggled to get used to the cold temperature – it was too cold and he fucking hated how it made sense.

It was all too cold.

Without her.

He had dried his body quickly before reaching towards the cabinet underneath the sink to take out the microfiber towel which she had gotten him,

“The material just causes lack of friction, know what that means? Less frizz. It also dries your hair faster than the cotton ones.” She had said as she dried his hair one night after her trip from the grocery store, the pink microfiber in her hand thoroughly drying Harry’s wet hair before she began scrunching some of the long lockets of hair.

He loved the towel.

He loves her.

Walking naked and barefoot, he opened the wardrobe, taking out a pair of shorts and resting them on his shoulder before opening a drawer to take out briefs. Harry contemplated wearing a top at all, but then reached to grab one – the one right on top.

Hers.

His movement halted as he felt the material in his hand, looking at the familiar watermelon-printed t-shirt.

“H!” She ran to him the moment he stepped inside their home, a wide grin on her face as she looked at his amused face. How couldn’t he be? She was standing in a watermelon-printed t-shirt and Toy Story-themed shorts. “Look what I got!”

It was that damn t-shirt and the love they made that night that had him write Watermelon Sugar.

That t-shirt.

His chest seemed to clench around his heart, almost begging him to put the t-shirt away, and that time, he listened and folded the t-shirt and put it behind his pile of t-shirts, nonchalantly grabbing another t-shirt before speeding out of the room to put on his clothes somewhere else.

Harry wasn’t stupid, but at times like these, he really thought he was.

He was stupid enough to think that it was the room he could escape when in fact, she was implemented in every little nook, every cushion – everywhere. Hell, even the coaster he had put his cup of tea on in the morning was one she had gotten.

After putting his clothes on, he walked to the kitchen. Surprisingly, he found his phone on the kitchen table, lit up as it released no sound and he was more amused by the fact that he had forgotten he placed it there.

‘Gem’ the screen had read, showing him a picture of him and his sister from when they were kids.

Harry debated picking up the phone. They all had been checking up on him, almost pleading to visit him but he was set every single time;

“I want to be alone.” He had said, every time.

He knew they were concerned, knew they cared about him but he couldn’t not cringe and grow even more melancholic when he heard the pity in their voices and, worse, he knew that in their minds, they probably called him a few names;

Pathetic.

Coward.

Dick.

He knew they probably liked the state he was in because after all, it was all his fault.

He gulped, taking his phone in his hand before answering, putting the phone on his ear and waiting for his sister to speak first.

“Harry? You here?”

He hummed, “Yeah.” His voice came out hoarse and scratchy, making him clear his throat.

Gemma sighed through the phone and he wasn’t sure what type of sigh was that, but it seemed to be as one of relief. He really needed to assure them more often.

“How are you?”

Harry had begun to hate the question. He didn’t like lying, but how could he reply with the same miserable answer every time? If you wanted an honest answer, he would give you one that went like that:

“Never been worse. I’m sad, I’m hallow. I think I need therapy but I know I need her more. I miss her but I’m a fucking dick.”

But he didn’t settle on that one for Gemma, no. Instead, Harry moved to fill the kettle with water while balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder, and gave her an answer anyone would want to hear,

“’M fine. How are you?”

But Gemma wasn’t just anyone. She wasn’t a distant relative nor was she a friend he hung out with every other year – she was his sister and she knew him better than that.

“You can be honest, you know?” She reminded him, “I understand.”

It assured him, really. Not enough to make him smile, but it felt somewhat nice but nonetheless, he hummed.

So, Gemma went on, “I want to head to the flower market, what do you say about joining me?”

Harry’s movement halted, standing straight and holding his phone with his hand, “Which?”

She was glad he didn’t decline right away, but knew she still had to choose the right cards to play. “Columbia Road’s.”

“Th-I-That’s one of her favorite places.” He commented.

“What are the odds that she would be there, Harry?”

“Yeah, what if she was, Gemma? I-I can’t, ‘m sorry.” He shook his head, feeling anxious at just the mere possibility of seeing her.

“Please,” Gemma said gently, “You love that place.”

Because of her, he wanted to say. It was her who made him love that place despite the amount of people with their phones out, taking picture after picture of the flowers instead of actually buying or learning about them.

“I’m telling you; some people spend so much money on carnations and boast about their blue colors, but they always have no idea that they’re actually dyed.” She had told him once as they strolled through the market, hand in hand.

Gemma knew she was making a risky move, but she took her chances. “What if you see her? What happens if you do?”

Harry’s heart dropped, his palms got sweaty and millions of scenarios raced in his head.

Gemma knew he had heard her, but she wanted an answer, whatever it could be. “Harry?”

“She hates me,” He began, rubbing his hairline in distress as he felt his eyes grow tearful, “I-I can’t see her and see the amount of hate she has for me. It’s already killing me, Gem, I can’t.”

“But she doesn’t,” Gemma said, hearing him sigh in annoyance, “No, you listen to me. You’re feeding yourself bullshit and you’re forcing yourself to believe it. Did she say that? Did she tell you that she hates you?”

“She fucking implied it!” Harry shouted, “She said she regrets falling in love with me, what does that sound like, for fuck’s sake?!”

“Sounds like disappointment to me, Harry!” Gemma exclaimed, growing frustrated with how thick her brother could be. And to be honest, she was getting tired of tiptoeing around the truth – one he needed to hear. “Sounds like she was hurt that the one person she trusted and loved for years decided to tell her one day that she couldn’t fit in his life and he couldn’t fit in hers! Sounds like she was hurt to me, Harry, especially because she didn’t expect you to break up with her, no one did!”

That was the last straw for him. Harry’s tears fell, plopping himself down on one of the kitchen chairs, burying his face in his hand as he cried.

Gemma’s heart broke at the sobs she heard through the phone, but she knew he needed it. “You have been scared to see her, to talk to her since the moment she walked out of that door, Harry, but till when? It’s not doing either of you any good.”

Harry sniffled, “D-Did y-you talk to her? Know anything about her?”

“Yeah,” she said sadly, “She’s not okay.”

Another wave of tears hit him, shaking his head at himself.

“I’m a fucking idiot.” He repeated to himself, over and over.

“I’ll pick you up in 10. I was already on my way before calling you.”

Harry gave her no response except for a sniffle.

“Harry?”

He hummed in question.

“I love you, alright? I’ll help you fix this.”

---

Harry wasn’t lying when he said the flower market was all about her.

Without her by his side, it seemed like all flowers lost their beautiful blooming colors, devoid of the saturation. It seemed like his mind loved playing tricks on him so much that it refused to make him smell anything but her scent, even when surrounded by dozens and dozens of petals.

A pair of sunglasses hid his puffy and red eyes, and he hadn’t bothered to change out of the sweat shorts and t-shirt, only put on a pair of socks and jogging shoes.

Gemma was beside him, walking quietly with a pair of her own sunglasses perched on her nose, her arm linked with his.

She dragged him to one vendor, checking the flowers and bouquets before pointing at pretty, blue carnations. “Look at these, they look beautiful, don’t they?” She asked her brother.

“They’re dyed.” Harry had instantly replied, Gemma more surprised by the fact that he talked than by the statement.

“Ah, you know a secret,” The vendor smiled at Harry, “You read a lot?”

“My girlfriend d-“ He paused at his slip, feeling Gemma give him an assuring squeeze on his bicep, “Someone once told me that.”

“Better hold on to them, not everyone is interested enough to learn about stuff like that nowadays.”

Harry felt bitter, like he wanted to tell the man to shut up and ask him if he knew anything about what happened, ask him if he was mocking him, but he knew that that was his mind playing another goddamn trick on him.

He was getting sick of the tricks and the amount of times his mind mocked his state, because when he turned his head away from the man and spotted her, he wanted nothing more than to have a one-on-one fight with his mind.

His jaw dropped, his green eyes widened from beneath his sunglasses, and he felt like he no longer was in an open-air place.

There she stood, in flared jeans, a half-sleeved shirt and eyes hidden beneath a pair of Seven Wonders sunglasses that Gemma had gifted her when she launched her brand. In her hands was one single yellow daffodil, holding it gently and with care, reminding Harry of the days and nights when she would hold him, exactly as a flower.

“Ha-“ Gemma stopped, following his gaze before her eyebrows shot up. She couldn’t say she was very surprised, because she knew how much Sundays at the flower market meant to her friend and brother’s ex.

Gemma also knew it was the first time since the breakup that Y/N visited the place and she couldn’t be any happier for her friend for kicking herself out of the bed and to the one place she enjoyed being at.

Y/N seemed oblivious to the Styles siblings’ fixed gaze on her, carrying herself with grace despite the ache in her heart and the memories that clouded her mind with that one special someone – someone who was standing nearby.

Time seemed to go slow, as if someone had added a slo-mo effect. She had turned, and she was going to miss him if it weren’t for her double taking.

The daffodil almost dropped from her hands, and her knees almost gave out on her.

As if she was pulling the leash on her heart, she turned away quickly before beginning to walk away in big steps, Harry’s heart aching.

“Go!” Gemma urged him, “Fucking go after you, you shit!” She pushed his back.

“I-“ Harry shook his head at his sister, not being able to tear his eyes away from Y/N’s figure as she walked among the crowd, leaning to the side as to not lose sight of her.

“You can, Harry!” She groaned, before tugging on his arm, making him look at her stern face, “It’s now or never, Harry. Your call.”

More often than not, Harry was thankful and grateful for his older sister; like when she took him sightseeing in London for the first time when he was 16 during the boot camp stage of The X-Factor, or when she would help him with his science and English coursework back when he was at school as a kid.

Like that moment, as he ran after his love.

It was easy to spot her. It was easy to run towards her.

Reaching her, Harry gently held her elbow, halting her movement before she turned, and fuck, 

what now?

He expected her to shout at him, tell him that she wanted nothing to do with him but she was quiet, looking up at him as she waited and Harry didn’t know whether he was thankful or despised the fact that he couldn’t see her eyes – was she glaring at him? Was she not?

He opened his mouth before closing it again, slowly removing his hand from her arm, unaware to her longing for his touch.

“Say anything, Harry, dammit.” She almost pleaded, pushing her weight to her right leg and – finally – putting her glasses on top of her head.

Harry definitely wished she kept them on.

Because the moment he saw her puffy eyes, clearly from crying, he wanted nothing but to cry out himself.

As if to assure her though, Harry mirrored her and placed his own on top of his head, letting her see how the eyes she adored so much, the color she decided was her favorite, was hidden beneath the puffiness and red.

“I don’t know what to say, fuck me,” he cringed at himself, reaching up to aggressively rub his eyes with his palms as to calm himself.

But then she gave him that look, that one look she gave him before walking out of the door a month ago – she was disappointed.

She shook her head at him, eyes judging him. “Forget it.” She was about to turn again when he, again, held her, but that time, Harry’s hand reached for hers.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted.

God, what exactly was he sorry for? What exactly was he apologizing for? Kissing her one moment then breaking up with her the other? Not calling her? Standing in front of her and being a coward?

But she had always been patient with him, and as much as her friends advised her against, she was still patient with him that moment.

“I can’t read your mind.” She said gently, stepping closer to him and looking him directly in the eyes, searching them. “Use your words.”

“I can’t do this without you,” Harry’s tone matched hers, staring down at her and stealing a glance at her lips before going back to her eyes, “I was- No, I am a dick. I’m an idiot. It’s taken me too long because I’m just an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry and,” he shook his head, “But I am. I fucking hate myself for letting you leave, for saying the bullshit I said, for- for disappointing you,” he gulped down the tears that threatened to fall,

“I can’t sleep without you. Can’t eat, can’t function like a normal fucking human without you and I am to blame.”

Y/N listened, eyes getting glossy before she took a breath in, gulping as she tore eye contact before looking back at him, “Would you have said all that if you hadn’t seen me here?”

Harry stared at her a moment.

“Would you have called me? Visited?” One single tear betrayed her and fell, “Because I waited for you, all damn month.”

Before he was even aware, Harry nodded, taking the risk to reach forward and cup her face in his hands, watching as she closed her eyes at the feeling. “I would have.”

“I can’t-” She let out a sob, looking up at him with an almost childish frown, “I can’t afford having my heart broken by you again, Harry, because it fucking sucked.”

His breath hitched in his throat but it didn’t stop him from pulling her into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her, hiding his face in her hair, his senses waking at the whiff of her shampoo.

“Never again.”

Daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings.

#wellbeafinelime #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst imagine #harry styles angst #angst #angst imagine #harry styles angst one shot #angst one shot #hs #harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fiction #harry styles writing

[cherrysung]

dom antics

pairing: boyfriend!jeno x reader

genre: smut / slight fluff

warnings: soft dom!jeno, very slight degration, praising, fingering, oral (f. receiving), riding, unprotected sex (stay safe!)

prompts: none.

summary: a pleasant twist is always openly welcomed, but with your boyfriend’s inevitable nature, how will you present the idea?

requested by anon.

word count: 1.6k

note: anon I’m so sorry I’ve taken so long, this is most likely schedule because I’m on a short break to get my life together. when this is posted though, I hope this is what you wanted and I truly hope you enjoy it! and thank you for waiting! ps. I’m unable to add a “read more” option until a bug with my blog gets fixed.

cherrysung’s navigation

Eyes that creased exactly into moon crescents and a smile that made everyone want to squeeze his cheeks were not enough to fool you anymore, but they were small characteristics that also made you fall hopelessly in the beginning. Now you knew, those were meant to be seen, sure—but not what happened behind closed doors—not what happened to you, behind closed doors.

Jeno was far from being the sweet soul everyone thought he was, but at least some of his kindness managed to shine within the endless torture he’d sometimes put you through. Just for his amusement.

Your legs thrashed chaotically and unstoppably on the bed, you still had not even reached your first orgasm, but your boyfriend already had you feeling so riled up with his constant, teasing touches.

“Babygirl, we haven’t even gotten started,” Jeno chuckled with a hint of surprise in his voice. All he had been doing was mischievously kiss and suck at your neck for several minutes while his hands caressed your sides. You now laid on the soft mattress all at his mercy, legs still kicking desperately in annoyance at his lack of touches where it actually mattered—between your thighs. Soaked, and dripping, between your thighs.

“You have been teasing for so long.” You simply stated, rolling your eyes when he once again lowered his head to your neck, slightly wet lips pressing soothing pecks on your sensitive skin.

He continued to suck purples, reds and blues all around your neck and collarbones, occasionally shifting lower in the direction of your bare chest but never fully reaching your hard nipples. All because he felt like it.

You whined once again, back arching until your chest was pressed against his own, and Jeno could only smile at your impatience. He might be hard on you, constantly tricking you into believing you’d be finally receiving a different treatment other than the colorful masterpieces he never failed to leave on your neck, only to then later edge you to extreme heights that had you reaching the sky and touching the bright stars while tears streamed down your face at his unmerciful ministrations.

Still, even with the wet mascara staining your hot cheeks and your body constantly jumping at the oversensitivity while your lips spilled nonsense, there was always a small action of his paired with the rest of his ruthless movements that very slightly balanced everything. As a result, a special and unique moment was created.

“Use your words or I’ll carry on doing this until I force the begging out of you. What sounds better?”

You whined—again—and you had lost track of how many times you had already pathetically attempted to move his hands somewhere else; yet, they always returned to their previous position on your waist.

“P-Please Jeno, touch me! I’m so d-desperate for you to touch me.” The words left your lips in stutters, absolutely drowned in impatience you no longer cared how ridiculous you might sound.

Your boyfriend smiled, and there it was again, the eye creasing smile that had made you fall in love with him. Had it not made an appearance during the current situation, your cheeks would’ve immediately been painted pink and your hands would’ve quickly moved on their own to cup the boy’s face and lovingly press your lips against his. Right now, though, all you wanted to do was slap the look away.

“Yes, princess? Touch you? Where do you want me to touch you? Show me.” He cooed adorably, body still hovering over yours as he lovingly pecked your cheeks and forehead.

You nodded, gently taking his bigger hand in yours and guiding downwards; down, down, down, until it was innocently resting over your warm heat, barely convered by your sheer, lace underwear. Silently, you moved his remaining hand up to your lonely tit before locking eyes with him, the gaze enough to let him know just how much you wanted this.

He wasted no time in tearing the fabric off your pussy, but you were too far drunk on his touches to muster out any complaints. Instead, you whimpered more, absolutely impatient after being teased for so long.

“You’ll have to shut up if you even remotely want any of this, you know?” He whispered sinfully in your ear, fingers running up and down through your wet folds playfully. “My pretty, little slut.”

Jeno plunged two fingers into your hole with no warning whatsoever, setting a fast pace right away that had your legs thrashing around the sheets once again and both your hands covering your mouth to stop any sounds of pleasure from spilling. He curled, and caressed your sweet spot; he knew all your weaknesses and favorite places better than you ever could.

Your back continuously arched off the bed, clit occasionally rubbing against his wrist every time you raised your hips. His free hand left your breast, instead replacing it with yours before taking hold of your legs and wrapping them around his neck. In no time your boyfriend was diving into your pussy, tongue swirling around or llicking at your sensitive nub and folds that shined with your juices, all while a third finger was added into your clenching walls.

“J-Jeno, I’m going to cum.” You whimpered, unable to remain quiet any longer as you pinched at your nipples in ecstasy.

“Nonsense.” He replied, a whine leaving you when all ministrations came to a halt. He moved his face away from your cunt, all for you to admire the light sheen of your wetness on his chin and pink lips. “You’ll cum with my dick.”

You nodded desperately, if it weren’t for the current scenario he would’ve surely laughed at how impatient you were for his cock. Yet, he didn’t, because he was just as excited to fuck you deep into the mattress and tell you how good of a girl you are. Right?

A thought that had been on your mind for a few weeks now struck you once again, and you fiddled with your fingers nervously as you scanned over the boy who was currently undressing himself.

He must’ve noticed your sudden state of daze, hand gently guiding your chin so your eyes would stare back at him. “What’s wrong?”

You blinked once, twice; eyes immediately looking elsewhere before you confessed, “could I try riding you today? If you aren’t fine with the idea then we can just forget it though—”

“Let’s do it.”

“Really?” Your eyes locked with his brown orbs, the slight nod of his head and the smile that adorned his lips enough to assure you.

Soon, you were straddling Jeno, his hands gripping at your waist as you lowered yourself down onto his angry cock, the tip red and swollen as precum ran down the sides.

Moans left the two of you as you took all of him, a groan falling off his lips once he was fully settled deep inside your warm walls, the feeling heavenly and like none other he had felt before. Now, he wondered why he hadn’t asked you for this any earlier.

“Baby, you take my dick so well. So full of it. Good fucking girl.” He gritted out, lips gingerly kissing at your neck before nuzzling his face into your tits.

You began moving ever so slightly, slowly moving up and down his dick to test the waters. You had no idea what you were doing, but it felt incredible for the both of you. The tip of his dick kissed at your sweet spot with no problem, eliciting whimpers that rumbled from your chest and shocks of shivers that ran down your spine.

Jeno continued to suck on one of your nipples, your movements becoming faster and faster by the minute, and in no time—you were bouncing on your boyfriend’s dick as if you had been doing it for years.

“Fuck!” He groaned, letting you take full control of the pace while the bed creaked loudly, the sound of skin slapping and your unholy sounds the only thing that echoed between the four walls you were in. “You are doing so well, baby, so so good.”

He could only bask in the feeling of his cock sliding against your slick walls, constantly reaching the deepest parts of your heat deliciously as it clenched around his throbbing shaft.

“J-Jeno, I won't last much longer—”

He caressed your sides gently before thrusting up into your hole, and you wordlessly thanked him with a passionate kiss as the burning in your thighs gradually went away. Jeno pulled you closer to his body, loving the feeling of your tits bouncing against his chest before bringing one hand to your clit, rubbing quick circular motions and eventually prompting your much awaited release after so much teasing.

His hands held your shaking body tenderly, rubbing at your back soothingly as his movements abruptly stopped and ropes of his cum filled your hole, the white substance trickling down your thighs not too much long after.

He sighed, hips slightly grinding into you while you rested your face limply on his shoulder, pressing light kisses on your cheeks as the both of you came down from your highs.

“You should ride me more often.” Jeno smiled, carefully moving your body off his member and laying you down on the fluffy sheets. He threw on some new underwear and sweats and returned from the bathroom with a warm washcloth to clean the dried juices from your thighs.

You smiled back at him, eyes threatening to flutter close as you jumped at the oversensitivity whenever the cloth got too near your heat. “Really? I thought you wouldn’t like the idea since you always like being in control.”

“Correction—I’m still in control, that’s why I’m letting you fuck me.”

“Of course.” You snorted, watching him get rid of the cloth before joining you on the bed, immediately snuggling up to him and resting your cheek on his bare chest.

“We should probably take a shower soon.” He whispered, fingers running through your hair.

“Later. I know what a shower together usually means, you pervert.”

“You know it. I love you.”

#this is so bad im so sorry #jeno #jeno smut #lee jeno #lee jeno smut #jeno fluff #lee jeno fluff #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct dream #nct dream fluff #jeno scenarios #jeno imagines #jeno blurbs #jeno drabbles #jeno oneshots #jeno x reader #nct dream scenarios #nct dream blurbs #nct dream drabbles #nct dream oneshots #nct dream imagines #jeno timestamps #nct jeno #nct jeno smut #nct dream jeno #00line smut #lee jeno scenarios #lee jeno drabbles #lee jeno blurbs

[damnlance]

21 please

Klance prompt #21

21. “Where did you get all these bruises from?”

Summary: Keith shows Lance his bruises and tells him where and when he got them.

-

It’s been eight days since the mission with The Blade.

The failed mission.

Keith can’t stop thinking about it. It's deep in his head. Flashes behind his eyes every time he closes them. It’s all over his body. Literally.

Dark purple and black bruises decorate his arms and legs and torso. Cuts and scrapes on his face. He deserves it, though. It’s his fault the mission went so badly. He swore he had everything under control. He said all the right things that he rehearsed over and over before landing on that freezing cold, yet weirdly humid, planet. He was calm and straightforward, but not demanding in any way. Or.. at least he thinks he wasn’t..

He still doesn’t know when everything went wrong. They were there to make peace with this planet, called Nagara, and offer them all the food, water, and supplies they needed to rebuild their planet after all the destruction and damage from the war 3 years ago. It was Keith’s job as the frontman and spokesperson to provide the aliens of the planet with a state of peace and safety since the war was over now.

But.. somewhere along the lines, Keith said the wrong thing. Or he did the wrong thing? Or he.. said and did the wrong thing at the same time and it made the Nagarians angry? He doesn’t know and he won’t know. His ears are blank to his own voice and words when he tries to replay the moments, seconds, before everything went wrong.

It doesn’t matter. He will never forget the way his mother looked at him after everything.

Her face was filled with pure rage. A look Keith has only ever seen if she was fighting the enemy. Never looking at him. And Kolivan? Oh, don’t even get him started on Kolivan.

Because what happened was so bad, Kolivan put Keith on a temporary suspension. Meaning he would sit out of all things ‘providing humanitarian relief to other planets’ and so on. That meant no meetings, debriefings, or socialization of any kind involving their mission to restore peace, and he would have to watch a four hour long video on what and what not to do during peace negotiations on otherworldly planets.

He was on complete lockdown and it was fucking pathetic.

Not only did he not bother to watch that stupid, long video. Instead, he kept himself locked in his room on the giant galra ship, not interacting with a single galran soul. Including his mother and Kolivan. He couldn't handle the scalding glares or the whispering in the hallways whenever he left to try to get some type of food in him. It was too much. And it’s what everyone was expecting of him. But not as Keith himself. As a mixed breed; a half galra, half human.

After six days of being temporarily suspended, Keith couldn’t handle anything anymore. It was too much and he was tired of literally everything, so he packed up all the shit he could gather, grabbed his trusty space wolf, and left in his galra cruiser without notifying anyone.

Now, here he is, a day out. The ride down to earth is.. pretty uncomfortable to say the least. His cruiser isn’t as big as it looks and with Kosmo tagging along and his giant duffle bag, it’s a little cramped. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s almost to his destination, and he can’t wait to land. Because yeah okay, he’s suspended temporarily, but that doesn’t mean he can’t get away for some quality Keith time. A little vacation never hurt anyone. And he knows just who he wants to spend his free time with.

knock knock knock!

Lance jerks awake. The first thing his tired eyes land on is the ceiling. It’s dimly lit and as his pupils unblur from the sleep still in them, he can hear the static of the tv that’s still on from some boring action movie he decided to watch. The once fresh bowl of popcorn on the coffee table has run cold long ago and the pitter patter of water droplets hitting the roof from the outside can be heard as well.

Lance sits up slowly and stretches his arms above his head, a yawn slipping its way out of his mouth as he tries to register reality around him. It takes him a few seconds to wake up and when he does, he remembers that it was a knock that woke him in the first place. He carefully stands, slipping his bare feet into the slippers on the floor just next to the navy blue colored couch, and walks over to the front door, hugging himself.

As soon as he opens the door, the pouring rain is louder. And Keith is standing there. Soaking wet with a big duffel bag in one hand and a leash that’s connected to the collar on Kosmo’s neck in the other hand.

“Keith!?” Lance is ten times more awake now as he quickly moves aside to let Keith and Kosmo in. “Oh, shit man, you’re soaking wet! Let me go grab some towels!”

“Thanks,” is the first word out of Keith’s mouth. It’s shy and embarrassed but Lance doesn’t pay any mind to it as he rummages through the towel closet next to the hallway bathroom. He comes back and wraps a big towel around Keith’s shoulders, taking the duffle bag from his hand and setting it next to the smaller couch by the bay window in the living room. Lance takes the other towel, kneeling down to begin drying off Kosmo. Kosmo licks his face as he does it and it makes Lance smile, tossing and turning his head away from the alien wolf’s freakishly long tongue. Once he’s finished, Lance stands and finds Keith on the couch, discarding his wet clothes. He walks over and sits on the coffee table directly in front of him.

“Keith?” He asks, the tone in his voice full of wonder and confusion, but also worry.

“I’m fine,” Keith answers, a sigh leaving his lips. He looks at Lance through his long, wet bangs and sends him a weak but reassuring smirk. “I decided it was time for a.. a small break.”

Lance doesn’t look convinced, sitting there twiddling his thumbs. “How small?”

Keith shrugs, losing their eye contact. “Couple weeks, tops.”

“Weeks sound like a long time to be away..” Lance bites his lower lip, his bed head, or couch head in this situation, making Keith want to reach over and pat his hair down. “I feel like there’s something else I’m missing here.”

A sigh. “Later, Lance, okay? I’m tired and wet and cold, and I just want to shower and lay down, if that’s alright?” He finally looks back over to those dark blue eyes in the dark living room and then, a small nod and a smile.

“Sure,” Lance says, this time with more confidence, but his eyes scan over the scrapes and scratches on Keith’s face. “Let me help you out with your suit.”

They both stand and Keith turns around for Lance to unzip it from the back. He moves his long wet hair over his right shoulder and puts his head down. The literal second that Lance grabs that zipper, Keith remembers how his body looks. And if Lance thinks his face is bad, just wait til he sees his body. Keith jerks away and it startles Lance as he almost trips over the coffee table.

“Keith!? What the he-!?”

“I-I just remembered!” Keith looks everywhere but Lance’s eyes now. “I smell horrible underneath this suit a-and I really don’t want you to smell me, so I’ll just head to the bathroom now!”

“What??” Lance scoffs. “A-are you sure?? I don’t mind a little stink, Keith, I’ve smelled you right after a fight with the-!”

“I’m sure.” Keith nods. He sends a nervous smile towards Lance and quickly leans forward to plant a quick kiss to his cheek. He grabs his duffel bag and b lines it for the guest room, closing the door behind him. Lance watches his every move, then turns back to look at Kosmo who is looking right at him.

“What was that about??” He asks the wolf. Kosmo tilts his head, ears popping up. Lance sighs and begins his walk towards his kitchen. “Come on, boy. You must be hungry.”

Keith wipes the foggy mirror with his hand, exhaling a breath of relief from the heavenly shower he just took. He takes the smaller towel from around his neck and dries his hair, ruffling it up in the process. His eyes scan his tired face and exhausted body. The bruises that decorate his pale skin are of dark purples and blues and blacks. They’re eight days old, but they still hurt like crazy. Keith eyes the one right below his left pec. It’s purple with yellow blotches and he presses down on it just to see and the pain that zips down his spine is more than enough warning to tell him to stop. A deep sigh leaves his mouth as he pushes his hair back and ties it up in a messy bun.

knock knock! “Keith? You okay?”

Keith nearly jumps at Lance’s voice. “U-uh, yeah! I’ll be out in a second.”

“Okay.” The concern in Lance’s voice eases. “No rush, though.”

Keith sighs again. He has to tell Lance. Has to show him. Sure, he’ll freak out and never want him to leave again but.. if he gets it over with, there won’t be any more surprises if Lance wants to touch him again.

A soft smile graces Keith’s lips as he thinks about the man just on the other side of the door. They’ve been through a lot. Individually. Together. And even though it’s only been three years, they still suffer through the after effects of the war. They all do.

Lance gets nightmares. About a lot of things. He says his nightmares feel so real, and sometimes it’s hard to decipher if his nightmares really happened or not. It scares him and has left him very vulnerable in more situations than he likes to admit. There’s a lot more than just the nightmares; flashbacks in the middle of the day, jumping at loud noises, never leaving his home because he feels like everywhere he turns, some species-less threat is gonna come out and attack him, Allura’s sacrifice. Yeah. It’s a pretty long list. But with therapy, his family and friends’ support, and Keith, he’s come a very long way to recovery.

Keith on the other hand got most of the paranoia. Even though he still works in space with his galran colleagues, he still can’t help but get that itch underneath his skin that someday, someone will turn on him and try to attack him. It could happen at any time. Any day or night. Anywhere. Because of this fear, he doesn’t get much sleep, and is very overprotective of his friends. Of his mother. Even his space wolf. His knife has become like a permanent extension to his hand, he never goes anywhere without it. Keeps it underneath his pillow, in his back pocket, in his boot, anywhere that’s easy enough to reach so he can defend himself if need be. He’s even accidentally pulled it on all of his friends at least once. Even on Lance, who barely even flinched at the time. It’s safe to say that no one can ever sneak up on him.

And somehow, through all their damage, Keith and Lance still found each other. It wasn’t right away. And it wasn’t planned, either. It’s just.. happened. They barely talked after the war ended, and unpurposely drifted apart. Keith busied himself in his work with The Blade, and Lance distanced himself away from everyone.

But one year ago, around Christmas, Keith came back to spend the holiday with Shiro and Curtis. Little did he know, they were gone for the holidays, so Keith, and Krolia, decided to stay with Lance and his huge family. Lance was so happy to see him, he couldn’t dare to say no. ‘The more the merrier,’ his mother Rosa said. So, while Keith and Lance spent the time shopping together and baking cookies and wrapping gifts and getting drunk on eggnog, Krolia learned a lot of the Christmas Earth traditions and Cuban recipes from Rosa and even got a few surprise presents from Lance’s niece and nephew. She cried because she didn’t know what else to do. Happiness always makes Krolia cry. Keith bought Lance a red Paladin mug with his face on it that he saw at some flea market on one of their stops on some random planet, and Lance bought Keith a giant blanket to keep him warm while he was away in space. The emotions were flying, the eggnog was settling and long story short, they ended up sleeping together, with every ounce of consent they could muster. It’s still one of the greatest nights of Keith’s life.

They’ve been together since then, five months, and even though they don’t have a label on what they are, Keith is happy this way. He likes being label-less with Lance. He likes having a home to come back to, with a warm kitchen, a warm bed, and a warm body. He likes the open space and how much Kosmo and Kaltenecker get along. He likes how much Kosmo adores Lance and his homemade space wolf food, just for him. He likes that Lance buys stuff for him to have when he’s away so he has new things to come back to. New slippers. A new comfy robe. New matching pajamas. A new toothbrush. Keith likes Lance. And everything that they are in the moments they’re together. And although he knows Lance is still grieving over Allura and that it could take a couple more years until he’s ready for a real relationship, Keith would take this over anything. Any day.

As he emerges from the bathroom, he doesn’t bother putting on all of his clothes, just his red paladin boxer briefs. He and Lance have seen each other naked plenty of times, and he’s very comfortable in his skin around Lance. Lance has that effect on him. So when he walks out in just his boxer briefs and a white cotton towel around his neck, he’s got absolutely nothing to hide. Except, maybe not giving Lance a heart attack tonight. Keith hides behind the wall just before the entryway to the living room and curses himself for what he’s about to do.

“H-hey.. Lance?”

“Yeah?” Lance says, something like food in his mouth. “Where are you, man?”

“I’m…” Keith sighs. “Can you just.. cl-close your eyes for a sec.. please?”

“Uh,” Lance shrugs, Keith can hear from his clothes rumpling up. “Sure.”

Keith peeks around the corner and sees that Lance’s eyes are sealed shut. Kosmo is on the floor next to him, sound asleep. His tongue is hanging out just the slightest bit as snores leave his mouth. Keith smiles at the sight and looks back to Lance. He’s so beautiful. This guy has done some much for him and more. Before the war, during, and now after. He’s the greatest guy that Keith could’ve asked for.. greater than that. With that in mind, Keith steps out from behind the wall and walks over to Lance before his brain tells him that this is all a bad idea. The living room is still dim, only illuminated by the television and the lamp next to the couch Lance is sitting on, but it’ll be more than enough light to see Keith’s battered body.

Once Keith is in front of Lance, he closes his own eyes, fists clenched down by his sides.

“Okay.. now on the count of three, you can open your eyes.. but don’t freak out. Got it?”

Lance lets out a small snort. “Yes, Keef, I got it.”

Keith rolls closed eyes and sticks his nails into the palms of his sweaty hands. “Alright.. one.. two.. three..”

Lance’s eyes open. The breath that gets caught in his throat is enough to send Keith’s gut dropping out of his ass and into the floor.

“Holy shit!” Lance is up, eyes roaming Keith’s entire body. “W-what the fu-!?”

Keith opens his eyes and is face to face with Lance. They’re almost the same height, Keith’s got him by a few inches easily, and the look on Lance’s face is enough to send Keith into cardiac arrest.

“I-I’m fine, Lance, really-”

“No, you’re not!” Lance cuts him off, wanting to reach out but too afraid to do so. Keith’s tone, muscular body is a canvas of dark colors and spots of different shapes. No wonder he jumped earlier, Lance could have hurt him even more than he already looks. A shaky breath leaves Lance’s mouth as he meets Keith’s dark eyes. “What happened to you, love?”

Love. The pet name actually sends Keith’s into cardiac arrest, he’s sure of it. But as soon as Lance cups his face with both of his big, warm hands, it’s over for Keith. His eyes begin to water and his throat closes up on him so that he can’t talk. Tears fall down his cheeks as he looks down to the floor between him and Lance. His bottom lip quivers and when Lance tilts his head back up to look at him again, a sob slips its way out of Keith’s mouth.

“Oh, Keith,” Lance coos, bringing Keith into a big, gentle hug. Keith hugs him back, sobbing into his shoulder. “Baby..” Lance whispers.

Keith just continues to sob. He didn’t even know he had been holding back for so long. But here, in Lance’s arms, he can feel everything that’s been bottled up coming out of his throat and from his teary eyes. Lance only continues to hold him, rubbing his soft hands up and down Keith’s pale bruised back.

Keith doesn’t know how long this goes on. How long he cries. How long Lance holds him. But somewhere in the middle of it all, they’ve moved to Lance’s room. Keith sits on Lance’s bed, wiping his red, teary eyes and snotty nose with a tissue. Lance rummages through his bathroom drawer for some numbing ointment that he recently bought for his back and feet from working out on the farm five days a week. When he returns, Keith is done crying. He sits up straight and removes the white towel from around his neck. Lance stands in front of him and kneels between his open legs. He stares at them. At the bruises and scratches and scabbed gashes.

“I..” he starts, clearing his throat from what has to be a lump forming. “I got this.. numbing cream. It’ll help a lot.”

Keith stares down at him as he talks, his voice is so quiet and gentle.

“Can I..?” Lance asks, looking up to meet Keith’s red eyes.

“Yeah.” Keith nods.

Lance uncaps the ointment, squirting a good amount into the palm of his hand. He sets the tube down and rubs his hands together. Then, he gently, gently, places them on Keith’s bruised thighs and begins rubbing the ointment around.

Keith clenches his jaw, hands fisting in the comforter on Lance’s bed. He lets out the air from his nostrils and feels the pain slowly turning into relief. He looks down and watches as Lance works his hands in circular motions, gently rubbing the ointment onto Keith’s injuries.

“..keith…?“ Lance whispers, eyes focused on his hands covered with ointment that’s slowly making his hands numb.

“Yeah..?” Keith answers back, looking at the ceiling of Lance’s room. Those glow in the dark stars are still there.

“How…” Lance clears his throat. “W.. Where did you get all these bruises from?”

Keith sighs. “..blade mission.. gone wrong..”

Something in Lance’s eyes darken. “What? W-when?? How?? W-Where!?”

“Um..” Keith can’t even look at Lance anymore. The worry in his eyes is too much. “A.. Week ago.. on some planet called Nagara. It was.. all my f.. my faul..” The tears are back. Keith blinks them away and sniffs quietly, looking down at his hands in his lap. He can feel himself sinking back to that day, to that mission. He remembers it all so clearly.

They landed on Nagara. The planet was really cold. He and The Blade were greeted by a tall figure who looked similar to an earth bear. They were big, round, had dark eyes all around, sharp teeth and a snout. Three rows of antenna grew out of their foreheads as well as horns of all shapes and sizes going down their backs and spines. And giant sharp claws for fingers. They looked vicious. And they made it very clear that they didn’t like the Galra.

Keith made the first move. He spoke in a calm voice and made his intentions clear; he and The Blade were only there to help and provide the planet with anything they needed. They had food, water, clothes, and building supplies ready on their ships and were 100% committed to fixing up this planet and its species from the after effects of the war. But their King, King Arxuan, wouldn’t let them go any further until they explained what they were doing there. So Keith did.

He explained it all. Voltron won. Zarkon dead. Princess Allura saved the universe. Keith is the red and black Paladin. The Blade of Marmora is good. The Blade of Marmora is here to help. But Keith being Keith.. he’s not too good with his words. Everything sounded fine in his head. And when it came out of his mouth? Completely different.

“We are The Blade of Marmora,” Keith started. “We’re here to provide supplies to your helpless planet that has clearly been affected by the war and-”

Record scratch. Yeah, poor choice of words on Keith’s end. But they left his mouth so fast that his brain couldn't keep up. The King and his subjects didn’t like it one bit and before Keith could keep up with his offensive word vomit, the Nagarians drew their weapons and like a firework, everything went up in flames.

Keith didn’t mean to offend anyone.. and he didn’t mean it like that. But the Nagarians didn’t know or care how he meant it. They attacked within seconds of Keith’s poor choice of words and thank god for his team’s fast reflexes, otherwise his head would not be on his shoulders and he wouldn’t be sitting here on Lance’s bed.

Legs criss crossed on Lance’s bed, the strong minty scent of numbing cream filling the room.

His fingers locked with Lance’s as Lance rubs his thumb over Keith’s fingers.

Gently.

Domestically.

Lovingly.

Keith feels warmth bloom in the pit of his stomach as he stares down at Lance who’s sitting on the floor in front of him. Those deep blue eyes staring back so affectionately. Altean markings just barely glowing in Lance's dim room.

Lance swallows and squeezes Keith’s hand. “Are you alright?”

“I am now..” Keith shrugs, looking at the floor. “But these last few days have been hell.. and the guilt I have for almost killing my team has.. been..”

Lance nods, understanding. He comes up off of the floor and sits next to Keith. The second his arm goes up, Keith is there leaning into his side, nuzzling into his neck. His cheeks are wet with tears again and quiet sobs leave his throat.

“It’s okay, Keith,” Lance nods, planting a gentle kiss atop Keith’s head. “We all make mistakes. Some worse than others. but.. what matters now is that you’re here. You’re alive. And safe.”

Keith nods, sniffling as tears and snot run down his face. He’s had everything balled up until this very moment. The guilt. The shame. The way Kolivan and his mother looked at him. The way the other Blade members blamed him. None of that mattered anymore. Because here, in Lance’s heavenly embrace, he was fine. He was gonna be alright.

“You’re safe, love..” Lance reassures him. “I’ve got you.”

And he does. Lance holds Keith tight, holds him close. Lance lets him cry and doesn’t judge him. He’s just.. there for him. And it’s everything Keith needed.

Keith wakes up in Lance’s bed.

Blanket crowding his entire body. His long hair is literally everywhere around his face and neck and shoulders. The golden sun is shining through the blinds of the window, making him squint a tiny bit, and the pain from the bruises on his body are somewhat bearable..

There’s a smell hitting his nostrils that makes his mouth water and stomach grumble in a hunger he didn’t know he had. When he sits up, Kosmo is right there beside him, curled up in a ball, staring at him. Keith smiles at the space wolf and reaches to pet his head.

“Hey there, boy.” He rubs behind Kosmo’s ears, chuckling a little when Kosmo nuzzles into his hand. Suddenly, flashes of last night come flooding back to Keith’s mind and he groans out, covering his face. Sure, crying his eyes out all night long and being comforted by Lance, his friend-boyfriend-whatever-they-are was nice, BUT crying your eyes out all night long and and being comforted by Lance, his friend-boyfriend-whatever-they-are took a lot out of Keith. He’s tired. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. He just wants to spend the rest of his time away from work relaxing with the only person he wants to be with in the entire universe. And Kosmo.

And as if on cue..

“Keith?” Lance’s voice is soft. “You awake, yet?”

Keith looks over to the door and sees Lance popping his head into his own room. When their eyes meet, Keith can feel the undeniable spark between them and it causes his heart to do something funny beneath his rib cage. He smiles a bit shyly and brings his legs up to a criss-cross position, Lance’s puffy space themed blankets bunching up around Keith’s waist.

“Morning..” Keith answers, tucking his long hair behind his ear.

Lance’s eyes never leave his as the Cuban boy finally enters the room, two plates full of food in each of his hands. Keith eyes the food and his stomach grumbles once again. The noise overthrows the silence in the room and Keith has to put his hands over his stomach to silence the sound. It didn’t work.

“Good morning to you, too,” Lance chuckles, setting Keith’s plate into his lap. “Guess I don’t have to ask if you’re hungry, huh?”

“Shut up..” Keith flushes and looks down at his full plate of food. Organic eggs, two fluffy pancakes, sweet turkey bacon and a buttery biscuit with strawberry jam decorate his plate beautifully. All of his favorite breakfast foods right there in front of him. Made by the man right beside him with a matching plate of food for himself.

“Dig in!” Lance says, his mouth already full of food. Keith doesn’t waste a second and obeys the words from Lance's mouth. They eat in a comfortable silence, Kosmo moving to the ground to collect any scraps they throw his way. After a while, Keith clears his throat and musters up the courage to look at Lance’s beautiful face.

“H-hey, uh.. Lance?” He whispers.

“Yeah?” Lance is staring at him now, blue eyes boring into him again.

Keith can’t breathe and he finds himself having to take a really deep breath before he continues.

“Thank you,” he pushes out of his throat, “for everything. For letting me cry in front of you, and.. for not judging me for it.”

Lance stops chewing and swallows. Keith quickly takes him all in before he gets caught; Lance’s messy brown curls, his gorgeous tan skin all over his bare torso, those cute little freckles all over his body, his Altean marks. Everything about him is so breathtaking and Keith can barely keep his heart at bay.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Lance says, breaking Keith’s thoughts. Their eyes meet again. “I’m here for you no matter what, Keith. You have to know that by now.”

“I-I do,” Keith nods, tucking his lower lip between his teeth. He sets his plate onto the bedside table next to him and scoots closer to Lance. As if completely on autopilot, he grabs Lance’s face and forces their eyes to meet once more. He stares deeply into those ocean blue eyes and fights the awkward urge to look away.

“Lance,” he starts, exhaling a breath that smells like eggs, bacon, and syrup, “I love you, so much. Thank you for always comforting me and being my right hand man.. you.. you are the light in my life, and I..”

Tears fill Keith’s eyes and to his surprise, Lance also sports some in his own eyes.

“I know,” Lance whispers, gaze moving from Keith’s eyes, to his lips, and back. “Like I said, you don’t have to thank me. I would do anything for you. Because.. I love you, too.”

The second Lance’s plate is out of the way, the two boys are kissing so fast, the air in their lungs can’t keep up. Lance pulls Keith close by the oversized t-shirt around his torso and clings to him for dear life. Keith does the same and cups Lance’s cheeks. Their kisses are full of passion, desperation, and love. And when they part, Lance is trailing those same kisses down Keith’s jaw, to his neck and his collarbones, kissing every visible bruise he can reach.

“I’m so happy you’re safe, my love,” He says between kisses on Keith’s neck. As he pulls back, Keith is smiling like Lance is his whole world.

“Me, too, Lance,” Keith answers, kissing the corner of Lance’s syrupy mouth, his cheeks and neck flushing red. “Me, too.”

-END-

(send me a klangst prompt)

#klance #lance mcclain #lance #keith kogane #keith #lance (voltron) #keith (voltron) #lance and keith #Keith/Lance #raes klangst prompts #klangst prompts #klangst prompt 21 #klangst #langst #angst #writing #hurt and comfort #damnlance #raeasks #damnlancewrites #voltron

[worldwidebt7]

Hell[L]ing || 05

§ — Pairing: Chimera!Taehyung x Empath!Reader (with mentions of Reader x Other Members)

§ — Genre: SciFi AU, fluff, angst, smut, horror

§ — Wordcount: 2,974

§ — Rating: M § — Warnings: None. Just an awkward AF encounter.

§ — A/N: Gone for so long, but not forgotten! I love this story, and I don't plan on letting it die any time soon~ I need a manager-- I've got way too many projects! Anyone want the job? LOL

Summary: You moved out into the wilderness to live a calm, peaceful life. Your abilities made it impossible to live in crowded places, so even if you wanted to you couldn’t return. But when something happens outside the realm of even your normalcy, you start to think that maybe having everyone else’s emotions bearing down on you isn’t such a bad alternative to being trapped with your own.

You were definitely beginning to question your decision-making skills, or lack thereof. Any sane person would never let a man they met once into their isolated house on a rainy day— it was an exact recipe that stereotypical horror films follow. And you were to be the soon-hunted lead female. Whether or not you get killed milliseconds before the credits started rolling depended on how you treated the situation henceforth.

Standing in your bathroom, you contemplated your options as your fingers ran over the plush fabric of the grey towel you intended to hand to the soaking wet gentleman currently standing in your kitchen. First, you could continue on the path you were currently set on: heading back down the stairs to help the supposedly sick boy dry off and offer him a warm drink. This would most certainly end poorly if your expertise of the genre was anything to go by. Assist the helpless stranger, let his quirky personality charm you, then die. Not preferable.

You could, adversely, call the police or one of your friends to come save you and distract your company until they arrived. This would be the smarter move, though you have your doubts that the situation warrants such a reaction. Besides what your extrasensory abilities allowed you to perceive, your neighbor has done nothing to make you think he holds any ill-will against you. Having him forcibly removed from your home would only certainly sour his opinion of you.

Your last option, from what you could organize from your frayed thoughts, was to expedite option one, in which you dried him off, warmed him up, and sent him on his way before any amount of intimate time passed. You figured that this was the best option, even if it weren’t particularly the safest. You had no reason to suspect the boy of any violence or threat, but he made you inherently uncomfortable either way.

His emotions began to blip at a faster pace— nervousness, worry— were the rate of his emotional markers linked to his heart beat? That was something new. Well, everything dealing with this boy’s emotions was new to you. Taking a deep breath, you turn and leave the bathroom. You suppose your prolonged absence has made your guest begin to panic, and you really didn’t want to have his sporadic emotions to get more intense; you were already feeling the beginnings of a headache.

Scurrying down your wooden stairs, you felt his interest perk at the sound of your footsteps. Anticipation— but gentle anticipation. Warm, welcoming; you almost wanted to hurry to put yourself back in his line of vision, and as you stepped back into the kitchen, you felt the wave of relief that washed over him. His accelerated heartbeat kept the bursts of emotions abrupt, but they were soothed, a welcomed change from the abrasive concern.

His eyes were locked onto your form, taking in every miniscule movement you made. You made sure to avoid his gaze and cleared your throat as you stepped in front of him.

“Here,” You held out the towel for him to take. “You should probably dry yourself off…” He eyed the soft fabric for a moment, a shy gratefulness melding with slight apprehension. You sent him a warm smile when a few moments had passed and nudged the towel towards him a bit. With that, he tentatively reached forward and gently took the cloth from you. You retreated your hand swiftly and as he brought the towel to his chest you sidestepped towards the counter. “I’ll make something warm for you to drink, yeah?”

As you busied yourself, you didn’t see him lift the towel and softly burry his face in it, drying himself. You did, however feel the warm glow of comfort sprout in the air like quickly blooming flowers. With your back turned to him, you didn’t bother hiding the pleased look on your face. Finally— you thought— an emotion from him that didn’t barrage your senses.

With water heating up in your kettle and the packet of cocoa already retrieved from the pantry, you no longer had anything to distract yourself with. In an attempt to make this spontaneous visit less awkward and less unnerving, you turned to make light conversation. To begin, what on earth the sickly boy was doing wandering about in the rain.

“So…” you started, catching his attention immediately, his nerves returning. “Your name is Taehyung, right?” you received a delayed nod. “I’m Y/N. Ah, though you already knew that, right? From last time?” Another nod. Talkative, this one. You supposed you should get straight to your most burning question at the moment. “I gotta ask… I did extend the invitation, but… is there something I can do for you?” He visibly stiffened and the blips of his anxiety sped up with what, you were sure of now, was his increased heart rate. Oh, the headache. Perhaps you should rephrase. “W-what I mean is, since your health is poor, why’d you come over when it was raining of all days?” This seemed to calm him, as the frequency of his beats trickled off.

He didn’t answer you for a long while, opting to look down at the floor in contemplation. You did your best not to stare— you didn’t want to spike his unease once more— but you were finding it difficult to do so, seeing as the wet boy in your kitchen, now that he was up close and personal, was too beautiful to bear. Your previous appraisal of his other-worldly appearance was far too lenient; how could anyone like him possibly exist at all? And his dark hair— curled more from its damp state and hanging further over his obsidian eyes— only seemed to add more depth to the perfection of the features it framed. How utterly unfair it was for someone to be so beautiful.

“I—” you just about jumped at his voice, breaking the silence, but not cutting through it. The melodic depth of it filled the room. “…bad day…” he was pensive with his words— giving you all you needed to know and no more. There was no deception to him, but he was clearly safeguarding information, keeping it locked away.

You gave a thoughtful hum, but you couldn’t hide the shock and confusion you felt. He came to you because he was having a bad day? Someone he didn’t know and only met once before? You couldn’t help but feel this was… odd, for lack of a better term. And he seemed to realize this as well, as his eyes never once met yours. His apprehension was understandable now, and his fear of being turned away— he really had no reason to be here.

Still, your heart warmed at the thought that he had come to you for comfort, as unexpected as it was. And, slowly, the majority of your concerns over the situation began to melt away. Yes, he was a strange boy, yes, there were things about him that were odd and seemed unnatural, but… there was nothing aggressive, or dangerous about his intentions. He seemed more like a child than anything else with how small his large frame looked; like he was trying to curl in on himself.

A sharp whistle pierced the gentle atmosphere and both you and Taehyung jumped nearly out of your skin. You recognized the sound as your kettle quickly after having your nerves fried, but your guest was immediately on the defensive, his fear refusing to subside as he took a pathetic few steps back from the offending object.

“Sorry!” you called out to him and you turned on your heel to remove the kettle from the stove. His confusion was evident, and mixed with the other strong emotions bombarding you, you were almost inclined to say that he’s never heard the shriek of a kettle. The noise subsided as you lifted the item off the heat, turning the burner off in the process. “Phew— that scared me!” At your laughter, his confusion turned into curiosity, and his fear ebbed away.

You emptied the chocolate powder into one of your mugs and promptly drowned it in the hot water from your kettle, the smell of hot chocolate immediately permeating through the air. You se the kettle back down on the stove before stirring the drink, your neighbor’s curiosity only heightening. You turned back to him and beckoned him forward, placing the mug of hot chocolate on the island in front of him in hopes he would sit. When he did nothing, a breathy chuckle escaped you.

“You can sit down if you’d like,” you offered, hoping he would oblige. You realize that this directly opposes your original plan to make this visit as quick as possible, but his uncertainty had found it’s way into your heart. You weren’t sure if it was because he was often ill, but he seemed so unsure of how to interact with other people, like he hasn’t had much social interaction before. It was endearing in a way, and even though there were still some things that concerned you about the readings you got from him, you felt inclined to spend time trying to unravel him.

Or you could simply be suffering from your own solitude.

Either way, you smiled when he slowly made his way over to the counter and seated himself on the stool that the mug sat directly in front of. He still had the towel you had offered him clutched to his chest and seemingly hadn’t dried much more than his face with it. Cautiously, he eyed the mug of steaming liquid.

“Do you not like hot chocolate?” you asked, suddenly aware that it’s possible for people to have different tastes. Or worse, because of his illness he couldn’t drink it at all? “Oh, I’m sorry! Can you even drink hot chocolate? I should have asked before. If there’s something else—”

“No! I—” you blinked, surprised. It was the first time he had spoken so suddenly or with so much conviction. He seemed shocked by his own voice, and immediately receded into himself, almost as if berating himself for his outburst. He chewed on his lower lip, “…I’ve never had it… hot chocolate…” you blinked again.

“Really?” He nodded, and his hand slid forward, reaching for the mug. When you saw his fingers wrap around it, you realized how large his hands were— yet another ridiculously beautiful feature as you couldn’t help but think about how elegant the lines of hands were curved around the dwarfed mug. If he noticed you staring, nothing in his demeanor showed any discomfort at the attention, but you were quick to correct yourself when you became aware of it yourself. “Are you sure you can have it…?” you didn’t want to accidentally poison your neighbor if he was allergic to chocolate. A shake of his head did little to reassure you.

“I’ll drink it,” he said with confidence. He raised the mug, his other hand joining the action as the ceramic was completely eclipsed. It took you a moment to realize that he may not be are of the heat.

“Oh, wait, that’s hot—!” you were too late, and you watched him take a rather large sip from the cup. You blanched, expecting him to burn himself, but he only lowered the mug back to the counter, both hands still firmly encasing it, seemingly unaffected. Huh. Well then, wasn’t that odd?

After a moment of deliberation, excitement burst through the air and Taehyung’s eyes lit up. He quickly took another sip of the drink and from the rush of emotions you knew he was absolutely thrilledby the taste of hot chocolate. You stifled a good-natured laugh, not wanting him to think you were making fun of him, and settled for an endeared smile as you leaned forward to rest against the island counter. Why were you so scared of this boy again?

“I’m going to guess that you like it?” you couldn’t help but tease him a little, and, thankfully, he didn’t seem to take offense; he was far too enraptured by the sweet beverage before him. He nodded happily.

“Thank you,” he said, cheer popping in the air around him, making you want to squeal at his child-like wonder at something so simple. Still, you had to wonder— how is it that he never had hot chocolate before? And if he hadn’t had something so elementary, what else had he not been privy to and why? You suppose you could chalk it up to him being ill often, and if such is the case, he must have been sick for much of his life. You wondered who had been in charge of his health all these years and why they refused him such small pleasures such as hot chocolate, making you again second-guess giving him the cocoa treat. But the pure bliss he exhibited bade you believe that just one cup wouldn’t hurt and that it was surly worth it.

He had been so wrought with nerved when he appeared at your back door that any positive change in his emotions was a welcome one. Perhaps he would leave having a better day than when he came. You could only hope.

“I’m glad you like it,” you said simply before moving on, trying to keep whatever stilted conversation you had going. “I’m surprised you came here if you were having a bad day… did you and Seokjin fight?”

At the mention of his roommate’s name, he stiffened, some of his anxiety returning. You must have hit the nail on the head, because as his fingers fidgeted around the mug he looked off to the side towards the floor. You felt bad immediately, not wanting to sour his mood again.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry,” you straightened a bit at your mistake, readying to correct yourself if given the opportunity. “If you want to talk about it, um…” What could you offer him, honestly? Why would he divulge the details of his roommate quarrel with you? He barely knew you. Still, he did come to you— as a source of comfort, as a distraction, or as escape, you’ll never know. You did know that you may be his only choice out here in the remote wilderness and so, to an extent, you felt a certain obligation to offer him support. After all, should something happen to you, he and Seokjin were the only ones in miles that could aid you, and you could only hope that they would do so without hesitation.

However, he shook his head, signaling that he didn’t wish to divulge the issue. More mystery then, it seems. You nodded and gave no further attempts to interrogate despite the burning questions that nagged at you, knowing full well about the need to keeps certain things to yourself.

“I…” he began, suddenly standing. Startled, you too took a step back from the counter as well. “I should go…” he placed your towel on the island next to the half-empty mug after a long moment, seemingly disappointed to part with it. Taehyung hesitated, but eventually took a large step away from where he had been seated and began to make his way to the back door.

His sudden, hurried departure had you reeling. You had wanted a brief, eventless encounter, so letting him leave now would probably be for the best. Yet, despite all your concerns, you were still opening your mouth.

“W-wait!” you called after him, stepping out from behind your countertop. He immediately halted in his tracks, shifting slightly so he could see you out of his peripherals. His uncertainty thrummed in the air like drums, making your otherwise silent home ridiculously loud. “The… the rain…” For the first time in the last ten minutes, you peered outside your window, expecting to see the previous torrential downpour. However, to your surprise, it had calmed to a drizzle at some point during your neighbor’s momentary visit. When had that happened?

Sensing that you didn’t have anything else to say to him, Taehyung continued his journey to your glass doors slowly. You watched him with a rock settling into your stomach— this didn’t feel right to you, and as he opened the door, you called out to him again.

“Taehyung,” this time, at the sound of his name leaving your mouth, his head spun around completely, eyes wide and panic vibrating from him. No, not panic; something akin to panic, but not quite so negative. Something warmer… ugh, trying to decipher his emotions was like learning a new language. So, instead of feeding into your present headache, you continued, immediately embarrassed by what you say. “Come back again sometime… we can have lunch.” You felt the heat in your face from your blush and then, unexpectedly, it was as if the very space around you was placed under a heat lamp and Taehyung’s not-panic set your nerves on fire. What the hell was going on?

You didn’t have time to dwell, because as soon as the shocked, anxious boy recovered, he nodded quickly and slipped out the door, taking his blips of emotions and quickly disappearing into the tree line separating your properties.

With his departure, you could finally breathe, and you found that a tightness that you hadn’t been aware of begun to unravel in your chest. Your migraine, which you were hoping would leave with your neighbor, proceeded to hammer away in your skull. As much as you wanted to dissect your more than odd exchange with the onyx-eyed boy, you couldn’t imagine thinking about much of anything in your present condition.

“Bath…” you groaned, massaging your temples and groggily treaded your way upstairs to soak away the pain in scalding, fragrant water.

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