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homicidalfantrolls · 9 months

Text

Call My Name

In which Dia is recovering from a loss and Paenit does all he can to help him through it. (Click title for matching song)

a sorta sequel/alt POV to It’s All Decay

art (in order) by ridiculousfantrolls and byrdstrolls. I love u both thank u for ur help and amazing art <3

—

Before Dia had even left, you had already been imagining what would happen when he got back.

Some younger, more naive part of you fantasized about him jumping into your arms like no time had passed. The more realistic part of you knew he’d probably say something snarky before demanding a pair of your pants so he could take a nap in your bed. The part of you that missed him so much it hurt just hoped he would give you a hug and say nothing at all.

When you received the news that Twitch and Hanagi Cheong’s ship had been found in the deepest reaches of space, only one of them having survived, you knew none of the situations you had envisioned would come to pass.

In her dying breaths, his sister had offered him probably the best gift he could ask for, yet something you knew he never would, something he would have given back in a heartbeat. A way out. A ticket out of the fleet, one that wouldn’t put him or his loved ones in danger. He wouldn’t hug you, he wouldn’t say he missed you. He wouldn’t say anything. Dia might not come back at all. You wouldn’t blame him for a second.

Your longing for him only grows worse as one of your crew members crashes on a routine supply run. As Mavrik Conrod of all people arrives to rescue her. A man you hadn’t seen since he lied to your face about the circumstances surrounding Daisee’s death, a man you hoped you’d never see again.

You had never expected to receive a warning before your medic returned. If it was any other person on your crew, you would have gotten a ping letting you know a shuttle was on its way to deliver them back to duty. Even if you expected Dia to return at all, you knew you wouldn’t get a message for it.

It was amazing how, getting no warning whatsoever that he was returning, his timing was almost too horrible to be accidental.

Your hand throbbed as violet blue blood dripped from it, dripping onto the floor where Mavrik was lying in a small pool of his own blood, groaning.

And there was Jodiah Monark, standing in the doorway. Looking like he hadn’t slept in a week and hadn’t eaten in twice that time. His eyes sunken, his brother’s pants struggling to hold onto his almost emaciated hips.

And yet he looked just as beautiful as you remember.

Dia helped Mavrik as you retreated to your block. Even when you were confronted by him, you still couldn’t tell him the truth. You could only say you were sorry. And he held you as you cried, took care of you despite how much you knew he was hurting, how much he needed you to hold him instead.

When he fell asleep on your chest, you told yourself you would do whatever you could to make him smile again.

And over the next few months, you had desperately wanted to. You could only watch as Dia drew further and further into himself. As we went from having meals in the mess hall, to having them in his block, to finally not having them at all.

More often than not, when you returned to take his leftovers they hadn’t been touched at all. After too many times of returning to a full plate, you had told him you wouldn’t leave until he ate. And from then on, you had to sit in the block with him, looking out the window, petting his hair and feeding him tater tots.

You’d only seen Dia’s face a handful of times since you two were young. He still didn’t let you see his face straight on, beyond when you were panicking, but thankfully the reflection of the window and his own exhaustion made it safe for you to admire his features. Age had changed it in much the same way it had you. But whereas your stern features had softened, his soft face had grown hard over the sweeps. The smile lines around his eyes were accompanied by dark circles, his normally blindingly bright eyes dim with exhaustion.

And yet, as you watched his face in the reflection of the window, you couldn’t help but still be awed at how beautiful he was.

The weeks faded into months, though in space the days blended together seamlessly. Trying to encourage Dia to leave his block was about as easy as the time you tried to shoot your name into the side of a building. With the machine gun on your jet. Mostly because he hadn’t said a word in months. Not since he said you should find a new medic. Not since you told him you already had a medic and saw no point in looking for another.

You didn’t mind. You spent your time with him talking about whatever came to mind. Types of guns, planes, who Ship Cat had bitten that day (you). Occasionally you would a smile or very rarely a scoff. But he never said anything. Even when you kissed his cheek and told him you had to get back to work, and you’d look forward to seeing him later. He just nodded and continued to stare out the window as you left, his eyes seeing beyond the glass, beyond the stars and galaxies and planets. Watching something only he could see, seeing something only he knew was there. You told yourself you would stay over when he invited you to. He never did.

Three months after Twitch’s death, after Dia had returned to your ship, little had changed. You had changed up the things you fed him, knowing he couldn’t survive on potatoes for forever. But you were still bound to whatever he would eat, and it wasn’t ever enough. You were just grateful that he wasn’t losing weight anymore.

As you broke off pieces of rice cake to feed him, you hadn’t noticed you had started humming ever so softly. A song as ingrained into your bones as your genetic code, a song Daisee has sung to you since she had found you half feral in a dumpster.

Jodiah melts against you, letting you finish feeding him the small meal you had prepared. Your eyes glance to the clock i’m the corner. It had been getting late, the proceeding night having been filled with training exercises and the following one going to be filled with even more. You didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to remove your head from his shoulder, your arms from around his waist. You didn’t want your eyes to leave the reflection of his face in the window.

You kiss his cheek softly and pull away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Try to get some sleep.”

You climb off the bed, giving his face one last glance before you open the door.

And for the first time in months, you hear him.

“Paenit?” Dia’s voice, rough with disuse and quiet with apprehension breaks the silence.

Your hand pauses on the doorknob, your grip faltering. For a second, you think you might have hallucinated it. That heart sickness and desire had gotten the best of you, had you hearing things you desperately wanted to for so long.

But when you turn, your eyes meeting his, the mask having returned to his face, you knew it hadn’t been a dream.

Without even registering you had moved, you had pulled him into your arms, his face pressed into your shoulder and your hand cradling his head. Dia’s body shakes with sobs as his fingers curl into your jacket, your hand continuing to stroke his head ever so gently.

You hold him there until he doesn’t have the energy to cry anymore, as harsh sobs fade into soft breaths as exhaustion wins the battle for his body and he goes limp against you. You hold him as he his stiff body relaxes, as he curls against your chest and finally lets you take care of him. You’re not sure at what point you take your jacket off, at what point you lay down with him curled up on your chest and your legs tangled together like necklaces lost in a jewelry box.

You press your lips to his forehead, shifting your attention to the window that had been holding all of his attention for months. Your eyes watch the stars, the galaxies, the planets out the window. Not seeing passed them, not finding any answers hidden in them. To you, they’re the same as they always had been.

“Thank you,” you whisper to the stars. “For answering him.”

#flight risk #Corpse writes #twitch belongs to Robin and dia to Liam

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shop-korea · 1 year

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Will Smith - Prince Ali (From "Aladdin")

youtube

CORRECT - CARIBBEAN - WE -

CAN BOOK LARGEST CRUISE -

SHIP - IN - THE - WORLD - AS -

WE GIVING - 1 CLICK - HOW 2 -

MAKE - SOUNDPROOF EACH -

ROOM - WE'RE - IN - ALSO XO -

WE - CAN - ALSO - BOOK YES -

AFTER - AFTER HOURS -

WALT DISNEY - WORLD -

STAYING - AT - YACHTS -

TAKESHI - FILMS - WE'RE -

FILMING - IN - FRANCE FL -

LEGAL - PERMISSION

$100 BILLION - TAX PAID

CREATING - HEIGHTS AS

PUBLIX - BRICKELL - ALL

THEIR - SECURITY GUNS

2 - KILL KIDS - REGULAR

DOGS - NON-SHOPPERS

SO - WE'RE - SHOWING U

ABOUT - USA - TATER GUNS

OF - SEOUL - POLICE MADE

BY - USA - LIKE - HOOK - IT

DIGS - INSIDE - SKIN - AND

2 - SCAR - PERMANENTLY

KOREAN - SKIN - 2 PROTEST

GIRLS - NOT - ARRESTED - 4

WEARING - SHORT - SKIRTS

JOSEAN KINGDOM - 500 YRS

ONLY - PROSTITUTES - GIRLS

IN PUBLIC - LIKE - RICH BOYS

ONLY - THEY - WHORES TRUE

ALLOWED - 2 - READ - WRITE

TALK - SING - DANCE - ART -

MUSICAL - INSTRUMENTS -

TODAY - KOREAN - POLICE -

CAN'T KILL - GIRLS WEARING

SKIRTS - CAN'T KILL - 4 THEY

CAN - GO - OUTDOORS - THUS

INTRODUCING - PRISM - FACE

BODY - LOTION - FEET - HAIR

SHAMPOO - CONDITIONER - 4

AS - THEY - SHOOT - THEY GET

7 TIMES - THE - FORCE - SHOT

THEMSELVES - 7 TIMES - THE

FORCE - WRIST - LOTION - YES

MAKES - SLIDY - HANDCUFFS

NOT - WORKING - THUS - IU -

DARLING - GIRL - CREATING -

3RD - FLOOR - BACK - L SIDE -

METROMOVER - FACING THE -

ESCALOTORS - 4TH - FLOOR 2 -

CMX - MOVIE - THEATRE - FL -

PRETTY - CAN - B - RENTED -

SPANISH - SPEAKING WON'T -

KNOW - US - ANOTHER - YES -

PLACE - RECREATING - HIGH -

BUILDINGS - GETTING - TRUE -

SATELLITE - COVERAGE - FOR -

ACCURACY - WE - CAN - RENT -

AFTER - HOURS - 4 - FILMING -

GBC - TAKESHI - FILMS -

ANGELS - CLUB

WE - HAVE - DECLARED - WAR -

ON THE - UNITED STATES AND -

SPANISH SPEAKING COUNTRIES

WORLDWIDE - FOREVER - TRUE

OUR - FILMS - AND - STUDIOS - 2

DISTRIBUTE - WEAPONS - ONLY

OWNERS - CAN - USE - LIKE -

STEAMERS - NON - LITHIUM -

BATTERIES - BLOW DRYERS -

AS SMALL - PRIVATE PLANES -

YOUR - AIRPORTS - YOUR YES -

NEED - 2 - KILL - YOURSELVES -

FUTURE - AIRPORT - TECH - TO -

SEE - YOUR NUDITY - 2 - MAKE -

CERTAIN YOU'RE - NOT ARMED -

ISLAM - 4 WIVES OUR FRIENDS -

NO - ISLAMIC - PLAYBOY

NO - ISLAMIC - PLAYGIRL

MAGAZINES - VIDEOS - 2

SMALL PRIVATE PLANES

BULLET BOMB - FIREPROOF

WATERPROOF - OUR - ROCK

STAR - BUSES - CLEAR - YES

PRISM - PROTECTION - AS IT

TRANSFORMS - 2 - PRIVATE

PLANES - LANDING - IN - FR

BUYING - CASTLES - FRANCE

REAL - CHIP - LANDING - YES

THERE VISAS - ARE CORRECT

TAKESHI - FILMS - LEGAL YES

PERMISSION - PRESENTS -

'CATGIRL'

(ASIAN)

STARS - IU - 5'4 FT - YOU'RE -

USING - MILITARY - SHOES -

FLIES - U - CATGIRL - NICE -

NEW - OUTFIT - I'M - YOUR -

STUNT GIRL - LIKE DISNEY -

'MIRACULOUS' - PARIS - FR -

BASICALLY - CATGIRL - YES -

STEALS - BRICKELL CITY -

CENTRE - EIGHT STREET -

HUSBANDS OR MARRIED -

GAY - 2 - GAY - FAKE LAWN -

3RD FLOOR - FORMER - CHI -

FORMER - HALF DUCK - $48 -

THEN - LUNCH - CATGIRL IU -

MASKED - SMALL - FULL -

AUTO - MACHINE - GUN 2 -

DROP - THEIR - CARDS ID -

CASH - PASSPORTS - IN THE -

BAG - IU - GIRLS - YOUR YES -

ASSIST - ALL - MASKED - AS -

MAJORITY - MALES - HOBOS -

HOMELESS - HUBBIES - AND -

MARRIED - MEN - 2 - BLDGS -

DROPPING - 2 - OPEN - ROOF -

DROP - 2 - LAWN - BUT YOUR -

TECH - ENDS - LIVE CAMERA -

YELLING - BLOCKED - NONE -

HEARD - SCREAM - GLOVES -

SHOOT - THEM - BODIES -

DISSAPEARED - CREMATED -

ESCAPE - TIME - L SIDE - FL -

WHITE - PARKING - LOT -

EQUIPMENT - AUTO ZIPLINE -

KIM POSSIBLE - ROUND - TO -

COVER - YOUR - ESCAPES - & -

3:30P EDT - METROMOVER AS -

U - DROPPED - 2 - DRIVERLESS -

TRAIN - 2 - ABOVE - FLYING - TO -

2 - INSIDE - PARKING - LOT - 2 -

LINES - ABOVE - WALL - YOU R -

THEY - ARE - CHEERLEADERS -

FORMER - GYMNASTICS - AIDS -

U - DAY - TRADE - HARD - ALL R -

MEN's - WORLD - MEN's GAMES -

MARRIAGE - LEGALIZED - TRUE -

PROSTITUTION - CONTINENTS -

BILLS - STARVING - THEN - 4P -

BAD - NEWS - TALL - BOYS -

PRIVATE - SCHOOLS USING -

SHIRTS - 2 - BRUISE CHEST -

BREASTS - USE - 2 - BLEED -

FACES - HIS - THREAT - HIS -

BOXING - KICKS - HIS - HGT -

2 - BLUDGEON - YOUR - YES -

NO 1 - WEAPON - ON EARTH -

AUTO - SAMURAIs - 2 - CUT -

2 PIECES - QUADRAPLEGIC -

THEIR - GOAL - DROWN THE -

DISABLED WITH BEATINGS -

WIVES BEATEN - 12 YEARS -

WHY - NO MONEY 2 EAT - 2 -

LEAVE - OUTSIDE - WORST -

SO - 'CATGIRL' - IU - 2 - EAT -

LIVE - NEXT ROBBERY THE -

TALL - FOREIGN - BLK MAN -

ARRESTS - 4 - PUTTING -

COINS - IN - THEIR BLK -

CONTAINERS - POISONS -

KOI - FISH - JAPAN - FOR -

BRICKELL - PAID - $25, 000 -

HONG KONG - WE PAID - $5 -

IU - HE - SHOT - U - TWICE 2 -

PUT - HOLES - IN - YOUR -

BODY - PRISM - 7 TIMES -

WHEELCHAIR - QUADRAPLEGIC

HE - BECAME - NO - SIGNS - DO

NOT - PUT COINS - 4 - SECURITY

2 - STEAL - THIEFS - 2 - KILL - 2

DESTROY - IU - ARE - U - READY

4 - 'CATGIRL' - I'M - YOUR STUNT

GIRL - COMING - 2 - FRANCE -

KOREA - HONG KONG CHINA

#Youtube

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binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

two tails | reader x minho |

Three

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, floristnpunk!jisung, gradstudent!jeongin, agedup!skz, slow burn, plot driven, gradual romance, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of previous kinda sad relationships

Word count: 5.4k (y e e h a w)

Tagging: @lauraneuuh

Chapters

P | ONE | TWO | THREE | ?

zeal noun

: eagerness and ardent interest in the pursuit of something: fervor

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Seungmin never liked your cooking, or at least, he’d often mumble this into his spoon while beginning his second serving. He was probably just being nice, or respectful. Your best friend of four years had never been less.

Aside from the fact the he had a 70 pound golden retriever, never had you once seen a strand of that golden hair cling to the cloth of his winter coats. In the autumn, he would drive you in his hand-me-down ‘91 Mitsubishi to the city where you would tutor the English students just so you wouldn’t have to bear the cold of the subway. In the summers he would toss soju down his throat with you, sitting on the carpet of your living room and turning his head to the side with a hand raised to hide his glass. In the spring, he would remember your birthday--several months before his--and take you to coffee shops and bookstores, then the grocery store (which he knew you hated) and would buy for you the most expensive beef he could find.

You would cook the meat for the two of you, and he would say that he liked it...even if you had charred it black on the edges.

Seungmin flicked at the little aluminum tab on his beer can while he watched you murder yet another plate of perfectly fine vegetables on your stovetop.

“At least it smells nice.” You flipped the circle of white onion.

“It does.” He returned, nonchalant, flicking the beer tab a little poink.

“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet. Too tired to complain about those dicks from the marketing team? They put you on a shitty pitch again didn’t they?”

“Every pitch is a shitty pitch there. God, you wouldn’t believe the kinds of slogans that they make me say sometimes. It’s humiliating.”

“Hey, you’re the one that took the pay raise over that job at that high school.”

“Well, you didn’t have rent staring you dead in the face and a dog that’s practically active and sentient enough to be a real child.” He slugged down a sip of his drink. “I’m a single father you know.”

“As if!” You choked out your laughter. “Since when did you turn into Hyunjin? You were never one for dramatics anyway.”

“Go get your vegetables, they’ll burn.” He nodded his head to the stove. The thing was, they were already burnt.

You salvaged what you could of the vegetables then placed them over your rice balls (not intended to be balls in the first place) and the chicken strips which had undoubtedly been seasoned just a little too much. You slid the ceramic bowl in front of him. At least it was steaming. That was a good sign.

Seungmin nodded a little in thanks, then let out a less than obvious sigh before taking his first bite.

“Spicy...but good.”

The way that his breath sounded thin made it convincing enough to you that it wasn’t just “spicy.”

He scrunched up his face in that adorably puppy-like way that you had long gotten used to.

“Really. Tell me. It isn’t the pitches. Don’t pretend like I can’t read you.”

Your best friend squeezed his eyes shut with a rather generous slug of his beer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whaaaat?” You whined a little while opening up your own can. “Oh my god. It’s that girl from the art division. She has a boyfriend doesn’t she? Dammit.”

“No.” Your friend drew the disdain in his eyes up to you from the chicken that had made his nose start to run. He wiped at it quickly.

“I hope it’s not my mother that’s getting to you. She’s too damn nosy for her own good and twice as cocky as she should be. Don’t listen to her. What did she tell you anyway?”

Seungmin poked at his food with his fork then twisted a crispy-tipped red pepper. “Have you talked to him again?”

“--Minho?”

You shied at the memory of meeting him on his morning run two days prior. He would go out at nearly 8:00 on the dot every morning, just when the sun started to peek into the dewy pink and blue mornings.

“You should put on a sweater if you’re going to get up this early for those plants of yours. Don’t want you catching a cold.”

“Yes.” You answered your friend. A tiny ache pinged at your chest--and it wasn’t the kind that felt all twisted. “He asked me to watch the meteor shower with him this weekend. I hope I can cook something edible for him.”

Seungmin’s knee bounced, “Aren’t you at least at little suspicious of him?”

“Suspicious? Why would I be?”

“You hardly even know anything about him, or where he came from, what he does for a living--”

“--Now you’re starting to sound like my mother Seung. Relax. Besides, sometimes it doesn’t take much to feel...comfortable around a person. I mean, look at us! Soju nights started like, three weeks after we met. And I do know where he works. He works for a company that makes windows; fancy ones.”

“Windows?” He cocked a brow.

“He did say that it was kind of boring...”

“I just--” Your friend sighed out, resting anxious hands on his knees. Here he was again, being nice and respectful, like always. “--You could get hurt if you’re not careful.”

“What?”

“I’m saying, don’t get your hopes up.”

“Geez Seung...” Your voice trailed off with a different pain in your chest. This was the kind that twisted.

His expression softened, and he lent a hand to your shoulder, lingering, squeezing lightly. “Your mom...she told me to look after you...not like I do that already with you falling all over yourself and burning things...I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Hm. Thanks.”

“You’re also miserable to deal with when you’re sad. You make me blow my grocery budget with how much frickin’ ice cream and freezer tater tots you force me to get.”

“You like those tater tots too though.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Bomi purred in your lap swaddled into a little ball of white, orange, black and brown. She was napping, or rather, trying to nap with the way that her little cat-shaped eyes blinked slowly. You tried your best to soak every little moment of it up: you knew that with her, it would be fleeting. There was something supremely calming about being close to your little furball like this. After all the love that you poured over her in the form of useless cat toys and new cat food every week, this somehow made it all worth it.

You tapped lightly at your keyboard, not too harshly, just lightly enough so that you wouldn’t startle your sleeping cat. The tips of your toes were cold, but you didn’t dare to move to grab a blanket to ruin the moment. Outside, a light spring rain befell on your small cement patio. Droplets of the warm showers patted at the roof of your home softly.

Your eyes had grown tired and dry at this late hour, but the end of the chapter was near. One more time you hovered your mouse over the little notification bar, clicking at it for that one last push of motivation:

Bomi needs to quit MESSING AROUND. Blaze is right in front of her!!! Ahhhh I want them to get together soooo bad

Is Herbie okay?? Poor bb, its so cute how we would do anything for Bomi.

Bomi:

Blaze:

*now kiss*

Are we really getting to the end of Book 1??? This has been such an amazing story N/n, I always look forward to your updates <3 they make my Thursdays hehe

I can feel like something big and bad is coming...oh no...I hope that Blaze and Bomi make it through

A thankful little chuckle hummed on your lips, then you pressed enter to start a new paragraph.

“Oh Bomi,” You exhaled, “If only Blaze knew how you felt too.”

Chapter 27

...The group journeyed through the cavern with flickering white flames dancing and casting shadows on the stone walls dripping in stalactites. Bomi held on to the hilt of her sword tighter with a sense of dread creeping up her throat. Blaze looked onward, much as he had been doing these days.

His leg was wrapped in a bloodied bandage: a reminder of the battle won against the Boar in Hilgram. He had jumped in front of her as he had countless times before.

“Hello??” Blaze’s voice echoed against the long and winding chambers of the cave. In his tone he was confident, but his shoulders still shook with an uncertainty.

Herbie’s little hedgehog feet patted the damp floor, and he looked up at his Princess with fear in his soft black eyes. The little velvet banner wrapped around his body had been torn and tattered from one too many battles.

Had it been darker, Bomi wondered if she had reached out for Blaze’s hand to find in him. She shook her head with her resolve, eyes painfully shut. It was only in the darkness that she allowed herself to want for him.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Today must be one of those spring-summer days.

Your warbled reflection chased after you in the blue glass of the university’s library windows. You had hoped that no one was on the other side watching you as you wrinkled up your nose to look like one of those devilish gargoyles that you had been writing of the night before. From the inside, rows and rows of books were lined up perfectly, however there were almost no students inside. It always did make you a little sad how few students would be there when you clocked in for your mandatory office hours.

Spring-summer days meant that the businesswomen on the sidewalks had exchanged with trousers with flowing skirts and little clicky ballet flats and each businessman had his tie and collar tugged down. There was a comforting warmth to the spring air that reminded you of your own college days when you and your friends--long gone now--had stayed up late to study, then would scour the buzzing streets for snacks. Things were much simplier then.

At the library’s entrance, budding tulips and geraniums of light purple hues were greeted by round bumblebees. Had the city not been as loud as it was, you could nearly hear the cicadas in the park on the east edge of the shining silver building.

You bowed slightly to the attendant at the desk who always would smile at you with adorable smiling eyes to match. She would often wear earrings of strange shapes that you had never seen before. She wore a lanyard too that had little cat paw prints decorating it; it was because of this you knew she was someone you could trust.

“Are you having a nice week?” You said to her customarily.

“Oh, I am. It’s always the same around here. My daughter will be having her baby soon! Sometimes I think that I’m more excited than she is.”

“You’ll have to tell me when that happens so I can bring her a gift, okay?”

The attendant smiled warmly, and nodded you off with a little oh, you don’t have to.

“Remember your key card this time?” She watched as you jingled around your own keys with the obsessive amount of plastic and silicon keychains.

You tsked. It seemed like nearly everyone in your life had now known how forgetful you tended to be sometimes.

“Yes. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be over there.”

Once more the two of you exchanged little bows and you made your way over to the back of the four storied library with the atrium of trees in between. There was a marble fountain encircled by the trees that had little oval shaped leaves. Two tiny birds, all black, bounced from branch to branch. It was your secret, but you had written about that fountain many times in your writing, but you were the only one who knew that it was real.

You tapped the reader to hear that familiar do-do doot along with the flash of the green lock. As always, the study room was a bit messy with eraser shavings sprinkled about and the odd dry marker laying next to the trashcan where someone had tried to toss it in, but had missed. The minute hand on the wall clock scooted right on to the 12.

“Are you busy?” That fluff on white hair peeked into your study room just like clockwork.

“For my favorite student? Do you even have to ask?”

Jeongin, the oldest and most attentive student in your class hopped in with his adorably boy-ish charm. Regardless of the fact that he was in the last year of his grad degree, it was impossible for him to look that old. You didn’t have the heart to tell him, but he technically shouldn’t have been in your class for undergrads, but you weren’t going to stop him.

“Why’d you decide to take this class anyway?” You would ask him.

He’d answer, “For fun.” with that cute little smile of his.

“I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“I just got here.” You pulled out a seat for him.

“Oh. Good. I was wondering if you could proof read my short story again. I’m having trouble with the ending. I just don’t think I understand all the way how to make it full circle like you said in lecture.”

He unzipped his leather backpack: obviously a gift from someone in his family that must have thought it would make him look his age. It didn’t. What didn’t help further was how he had adorned it with all kinds of keychains; much like your own keys. It was because of this that you knew he was someone you could trust.

His manuscript already had dozens of scribbles in his own handwriting with tons of question marks riddling the margins.

“Let me take a look.”

You skimmed the pages of the short story--one which you had already read the week prior--for all of his new edits. The notes made it a bit hard to read, but you were used to how he would make a mess of his papers now. He leaned in close to you with glossy eyes that might have even twinkled a little like a cartoon. Both of his knees bounced furiously while he watched you read, and would look from the paper, to your face, then back to the paper, then back to your face...

“Is-is it good? Better?”

Jeongin had written a love story. His first one that you had known of. It was about a boy and a girl who had met on an airplane, and had been seated together. The two of them found out that they had shared so much about their two lives without ever meeting until this very moment. They had realized they went to the same high school, worked in the same building, and were travelling for the same reason: to meet up with someone that they had once loved. It was beautiful, tragic, and in some ways, familiar.

“I think that it’s wonderful Jeongin. The edits that you made to it from last week really help with the narrative flow as well as the vertical plot. You’re really good at asking the deeper questions behind the piece like “why are they really there,” and “why is it important that they are there.” All you need to do is tie it up.”

“But howwww?” Jeongin slumped in his wheely chair. “What should I say?”

“Well...” You tapped your pen to your lip. “The ending scene is when they land at the airport right? Why don’t you have your main character say something that calls back to all of their similarities and makes it seem like they’ve known eachother all along?”

“But I don’t want it to seem like they’re going to forget eachother.”

“They won’t. You established that they’ve both found something different than what they were looking for in the first place.”

Your student’s face tangled up into concentrated knots and he puffed those thin strands of bleached white hair away from his eyes.

“I could say...‘see you at home’? Or...maybe that’s too cheesy--”

“--No it’s not! If you like it, I think that it also fits the story well. Its like, now they understand, and they’ve got something in eachother now that they hadn’t had before; also juxtaposing with your themes of travelling to make a reference to home.”

“Damn, you’re much better at this kind of stuff than I am...” Jeongin wrote down the new ending on his print out.

“Its just...what I like to do.”

“I’m glad I came.” He grinned out with his mischievous and trademark smile. “How’s your story going by the way? Almost finished?”

“Oh...”

A heat rose in your cheeks. You had decided to tell Jeongin about Princess Bomi a few weeks back, but you had neglected to tell him exactly what the story was about. That was a secret better kept to yourself.

“Its...good. I think. My readers seem to really like it.”

“Maybe you’ll let me read it someday. I bet there would be tons of other people who would like to read it too, you know, outside of the internet.”

“That’s what I’ve been told...” Hyunjin’s urgings echoed in your head. “Maybe...” Your eyes wandered to those scribblings of his. “How about we make a deal?”

“What kind of deal?”

“Once we get both of our stories sorted, lets submit them together. I’m sure people would like to read yours too.”

“Mine?!” Your adorable student’s face flushed as deeply pink as the sweater he wore. “Oh no, no no no no no.”

“I’m telling you it’s good! Its relatable, raw, well written. It never hurts to try. How about submitting it for the literary journal they do at the end of the semester?”

“You mean the one that all the arts majors read and fuckin’ eviscerate?? Hell no.”

“Hey, I could get eviscerated too by my chief editor.”

Jeongin gulped with his terrified, brown, cartoon-character glistening eyes boring holes into his manuscript.

You sang, “~Wanna go down together~?”

“A-as long as we’re going down together...I guess it’s worth a shot.”

“Alright then!!”

He made a little sound of disgust, then shoved his papers back into his much-too-old-for-him bag. “That was all I needed to ask you for. Thank you.” He bowed with respect. “I won’t be bothering you for too long today.”

“You wrote a good story Jeongin.”

“Mm. Thank you.” His smile turned into a tiny flustered line.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

STUPID NEW CAT FOOD. AGAIN.

In one hand, you held the crinkled up grocery list with angry doodles of your cat folded into the corners of the page. You didn’t quite know if cats had eyebrows like the ones you had drawn onto your cat’s smug face, but you were for certain that this cat must’ve had them...and they were angry.

Bomi had selfishly decided at the end of your week that she no longer liked the last brand of cat food that you had found on the shelves of the grocery store. It was the brand stored next to the one that you had nearly concussed Minho with.

You were at your wits end. There must have been something wrong with your cat--to hell with her being a picky eater. Maybe she really was just a little alien inside there. A little alien that hated cat food. The image of you sitting at your dining table across from Bomi eating two plates of people food crossed your mind. She picked up the fork with her white paw and dabbed at her mouth with a cloth napkin. The idea didn’t seem the most out of reach.

In your other hand was your phone opened to the maps app with the small blue dot leading you to the specialty pet store.

“Damn spoiled, stuck up, good for nothing, pain in my as--”

“Hey! Blossom??”

Your head whipped around so fast you cracked the bones of your neck with a startling pop. You rubbed at your neck to ease the pain.

“You okay?”

At first you figured you must have dreamt him up in your neck-induced-pain. You cursed at your overactive imagination, still just as strong as it was when you had been small.

Blaze in the flesh he was alllll the way from his battered Converse to his stupidly handsome curly hair.

You laughed out incredulously with a hand still glued to the back of your neck.

“Didn’t think that I would be seeing you around here again. Or at least, I was kind of hoping that I would.”

He marched right up to you with that same smile you had pictured on Princess Bomi’s companion countless times before. Today he wore a leather jacket over the arms that you knew were covered in all kinds of flowers and vines. It hadn’t quite hit you yet that he had said he was hoping to see you.

“Sorry if I startled you. I was just...really surprised.”

“You’re fine, it’s fine.”

You neck didn’t tell you it was fine.

“What are you doing around here?”

“Pet store.” Was all you could get out. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you, but for someone who worked at a flower shop, he did end up smelling an awful lot like flowers. It was a sweet aroma, much like your garden.

“Ahh, I just got off.”

You walked on, also not noticing that he had started to follow you a couple steps behind.

“I realized I didn’t get your name last time.”

“Oh. It’s Y/n.”

He hummed with a smirk. “I do kinda like Blossom more.” He crammed his hands into his pants pockets with a wistful little sigh. “Pretty nickname for someone as pretty as yourself.”

“Psh. Stop.” You had said it sarcastically, but you didn’t intend for your heart to skip as harshly as it did when he had said so.

“You’ve got a pet then? Dog? Cat?”

“Cat. Just one.”

“I wish I could take care of a pet like that. Don’t think I would be too good at it though. I see myself as more of a plant person. They’re quiet, don’t do too much, and they sort of love you back in their own way.”

“How's that?”

“By growing. And flowering. Changing colors and looking good in your windowsill. Nothing too crazy.”

“I...guess I can see what you mean.”

He flicked at the black hoop pierced into his lip in the way that you certainly hadn’t forgotten; and you were one for forgetting much.

“Mind if I go in with you? I don’t have a whole lot going on.”

Jisung. You had also remembered his name. He carried Blaze with him in the way that he had that fiery glint in his eye like he knew he was getting away with something. He was brash and forward, and charming as all hell. The sunset of blood orange and cotton candy pink seemed to melt into his shoulders where he stood before you in the golden hour of the evening. A yellow carnation was tucked into the pocket of his jacket.

“You don’t have to...”

He had already made up his mind, and swung open the door to the pet shop neighboring the floral shop. You didn’t know how you had missed it.

The squawking of birds chimed with the bells hung over the shop door.

“You coming?” He held it open for you.

You sheepishly entered before him, nearly tripping on the little incline to the entrance and catching yourself three seconds before disaster.

Jisung prompted, “Lead the way.”

Normally you would have been concerned over the cleanliness of the store, but that seemed insignificant compared to the way that he looked around all in his Blaze-like wonder. He widened his eyes at the rows of fish tanks and twiddled with the little feather cat toys at the ends of the isles.

Granted, he seemed much more immersed in the kinds of aquatic plants and moss balls that they had rather than the cute bunnies and mice, but still, you couldn’t help but shy away when he caught your glances.

“Glad that I joined ya Blossom.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

There was something about Minho that felt like a lullaby. He wore a lavender colored sweater when he arrived at your doorstep: of course it was pooling into paws at his hands as always. The collar dipped deep enough for you to see the tops of his collarbones, and they were gorgeous and curved. His eyes wrinkled a little under his wire framed glasses when he would smile: that of which would also look like the little grin of a bunny. Effortlessly his brown hair kissed his forehead.

He would speak softly and carefully, and listen to everything that you had said to him as if it was the most important thing in the world. His feet were too big for your spare pair of house slippers and he had a tiny hole in his khaki pants right by the waistline. Minho greeted Bomi with a tiny “aigoo” and she let him sweep her up into his arms where he bounced her lightly. She would never let you do that. Traitor.

“Your home is very...you.” He had complimented. You had no idea what that meant.

His lips were pink and glossy with drips of that peach soju that you had bought in the hopes that he would like it. It turned out that it was his favorite flavor.

You wanted so badly to kiss the peachy flavor off of those lips.

He had laughed a little at your array of cat-related home decor, laughing the most at your dish towels that had two fat cats on them that looked like chefs. He said that he had seen a movie once and the characters reminded him of that.

The two of you sat outside on your patio on the wire chairs that would imprint designs into the back of your legs. The air mixed with the smell of your citronella candle and the scent of the roasted duck that you had attempted to make for him. You really shouldn’t have tried to make something for the first time when it was also his first time coming over.

Maybe he was just being nice, but he had said it tasted good.

It did not taste good, but rather harshly of salt and too much rosemary.

Bomi rubbed at his legs under the table and even hiked herself up on two feet to peek into his lap. As much as it hurt to see your traitorous cat act this way, it was because of this that you knew he was someone that you could trust. Minho gave her head scratches and insisted to help you with the dishes--a mistake on his part. It took all of two minutes before you had a mishap with the detachable sink head, and soaked through his sweater.

“Maybe I just shouldn’t trust you with water then?” He chuckled while dabbing away at the fabric.

“That probably would be best.”

Minho was a lullaby in the way that he laid down next to you on that quilt you had made in a crafting class some years ago. All of the patches were disjointed the the color scheme made very little sense, but it was stull functional. He kept his hands folded to his chest with reverence. His chest rose and fell calmly, and his body heat floated over to you. His presence was something familiar and still something that you couldn’t place.

“Are you getting tired?” He asked you gently.

You lied, “No, just resting my eyes.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have had that much soju then.” He joked into the open air.

“How much longer?”

“At least thirty more minutes.”

He was so warm. Warmer than any chill of the spring night.

First you would have kissed the peachy flavor on his lips. Then you would have cuddled all up into that lavender sweater which you imagined to be even softer than cat’s fur--or rather--it looked like it could have been.

“Do you know any constellations?” Minho pointed up to the sky.

“Not really.”

“Well, that one is Ursa Major...and over there...that’s Leo. Can you see that it sort of looks like a triangle?”

“Yes.” You had said, but really you didn’t have a clue, you liked it more hearing him talk about them. “Where did you learn about constellations?”

“Long time ago. I think it was in school, but, that was so, so long ago.”

The cool grass under the quilt rustled when he had leaned back up to sit, then dragged quilt attempt #2 over your body and his.

“It was getting a little cold.” He quietly announced.

His simple action of doing just that heated up your whole body now knowing that the two of you were trapped together, inches apart.

Minho tucked his arms to prop up his head. “Thank you for cooking for me. I haven’t had someone other than my mother cook like that for me in a long while.”

“I’m sorry...I know that it was pretty inedible--”

“--And thank you for allowing me to come over too. I...realize...I don’t really know what I’m doing that well. I kind of invited myself...I hope that I’m not putting pressure on you or anything...”

“--Doing what well?” Your heart leapt into your throat.

“I just haven’t done this in a really long time.”

This.

What the hell was “this?”

“I’m not following...”

“Letting myself do something fun. Something nice and relaxing.”

You had formed a painful little “Oh.” on your lips. Your idea of this was different from his after all.

“--Something nice and relaxing with you.”

Another “Oh.” formed, but this one was a thankful one.

“Can I tell you something?” Minho’s voice was barely in a whisper.

“What is it?” You looked over at him and he was wrapped in the navy blue light of the night. You could have sworn that you could see the faintest inkling of stars in his eyes.

He looked back at you in earnest. “I’ve been...scared, too, since moving back out here.”

“W-why?”

“There was something in me that was telling me that moving out here wouldn’t fix everything, and that I would be stuck forever on those things that happened, and the things that made me unhappy.”

“Minho...what are you saying?”

“-Got my heart broken. Back then. As cliché as the sounds.” He laughed, and it even sounded a twinge embarrassed. “I ran away from it to here. I had figured that it would give me time to get it all back together again.”

“I-I’m so sorry.”

“Running is good and all when you can physically remove yourself from what’s chasing you, but some things...”

Your chest felt heavy. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

“You do?”

The first summer cicadas had started their nighttime chant, and their hisses ebbed and flowed like sea waves.

“I feel like...these expectations that my family has of me, my mother...I can’t ever escape them. They’re always there and burned into my head. I think of them even when I don’t want to: get a better job that “contributes”, get married, have grandkids...”

You paused with your own eyes cast up to the sky. The massive expanse seemed unfathomable.

“Why is it that we can’t ever be happy doing the things that are supposed to make us happy?”

The first meteor flew past your eyes with the speed of light, barely slow enough for you to catch it.

The second was a bit slower, and traced after it a millisecond of white spectral dust.

“Did you see that??” Without thinking, you poked once at Minho’s arm.

You couldn’t see, but he had grinned with a weak smile. “I did.”

All at once, the sky was illuminated with brilliant streaks of light and their white hot heads that would fade and dissapear just as quickly as they arrived. They tore through the sky with astonishing speed and you traced the outline of each line as fast as you could.

“There’s so many.” You wondered aloud.

Under the warmth of the haphazard blanket, fingers twisted into yours: careful and tentative, soft and curious.

Minho breathed out, “I feel pretty happy right now.”

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fanaticfangirl001 · 3 years

Text

The Outsider Ch 1: Back Talk and Sex Weasels

Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Enid Miller)

Summary: Enid Miller, an artist and member of Taylor Swifts’ girl squad begins to feel conflicted about her friends, life, and romance, prior to the infamous Fourth of July party. To get new inspiration and stay out of drama she moves to London and is rope into a whole lot more when she bites the bullet and goes out on the town one night.

Enid stretches coming through the sliding glass door, looking the same shade as a lobster with her frizzy auburn hair poofing out the sides of a ponytail holder.

“I got a cool concept for album covers, Tater Tot.” She taps her sketchbook.

“Not this again.” One of the girls rolls her eyes at Enid.

“Ennie, we came for a vacation, not work.” Taylor sighs.

“But you’re curious.” Enid lets her hair down.

“Let’s see it then.” Taylor sits on a stool in the kitchen.

“Okay.” Enid flips to the page in her sketchbook: Taylor sitting on a throne with a crown and holding two weasels.

“Why am I holding two rats?” Taylor asks.

“They’re weasels. I tried to use Renaissance paintings as the inspiration, and weasels were a symbol of women’s sexuality. But it’s like you’re owning it. You’re the Queen.” Enid points to the crown and throne.

“Oh great, Taylor and sex rats.” A girl from the group says.

“Good Morning, love.” Tom kisses Taylor’s cheek, “Oh wow, Enid. It looks great.”

“See, cool concept for an album cover, and a great band name.” Enid defends her weasels.

“The Sex weasels sounds like a punk rock hair band.” Tom adds.

“Enid, can we talk in private?” Taylor puts her hand on Enid’s shoulders to pull her away.

The two walk into a guest bedroom.

“I don’t like the concept.” Taylor says bluntly.

“That’s okay, it was just a possibility.” Enid shrugs sitting down.

“And you’re always drawing or filming yourself drawing.” Taylor adds

“Well it’s my work.”

“Are you clout chasing?” Taylor suddenly asks.

“What’s that?” Enid asks, confused.

“I guess that answers my question.” Taylor sighs sitting down.

“Are you okay, Taylor? Did something happen?” Enid pulls her knees up to her chest, and rests her head on them ready to listen to her friend vent.

“No, I'm okay.” Taylor shrugs it off.

“If it’s Tom, just push him off the boat,and floor it. You can afford a good lawyer.” Enid says quickly.

Taylor laughs, “ No, Tom’s perfect, but I’ll keep it in the back of my mind.”

“Then what is it? You’re worrying me.” Enid takes Taylor’s hands.

“The other girls don’t really like you. They talk about you behind your back.” Taylor admits.

“Huh?”

“They think you’re weird.” Taylor explains.

“I am.”

“They also think you’re not really good for my image.” Taylor adds.

“Are you wanting to end our friendship? I can move out of your place.” Enid drops her hands.

“No, you’re a great friend.”

“Why do they think I’m bad for your image?” Enid asks.

“The way you dress and..” Taylor hesitates.

“Comfortable, and?”

“They think you’re too fat to be seen with me.” Taylor puts a hand on her shoulder to soften the blow.

“Oh, I guess wearing a bikini after this discussion is out of the question.”

“Wear what you want. But I’m surprised you aren’t upset after all this.” Taylor says to gauge her reaction.

“Would you believe me if I said I’m not surprised. I don’t really fit in with all the models.”

“If any of the girls say anything to you, please come tell me.” Taylor hugs her.

“I will after I give them a homemade nose job.” Enid whispers to her.

“Please no punching.” Taylor lets go of Enid.

“Right protect the model’s face. I’ll go for a boob punch.” Enid says before walking out.

“Are you going to join us for dinner and drinks tonight?” Taylor asks.

“No, I got a bad sunburn. My skin matches my hair.” Enid shrugs while walking to the shower.

“You make it work though, have a good night.” Taylor goes back to the group of girls getting ready to go out on the town.

Enid sits on the couch with her hair tied up in a towel, pacing around the kitchen to decide on dinner.

“Enid.” Tom walks into the kitchen.

“Tom, you didn’t go out.” Enid looks away from the fridge.

“No, it was a planned girl’s night, why aren’t you?” Tom trails off.

“My sunburn.” Enid shrugs, “ And the other girls don’t like me.”

“To be honest, they aren’t my biggest fans either.” Tom admits.

“Why not? You’re literally perfect for Taylor.” Enid closes the fridge and leans against it,with her arms crossed.

“Too old, too smart.” Tom lists off the things wrong with himself.

“Oh come on no one said you’re too smart.” Enid laughs.

“They said I make people feel dumb, about things.” Tom explains.

“Like what things.” Enid sits on the counter.

“Literature, Art, Plays.” Tom lists again.

“Well if you want to talk about those things, come find me.” Enid says stopping him from listing other things.

“What were you planning to make for dinner?” Tom looks around the kitchen.

“Well i was planning on ordering a pizza, would you like to have pizza with me.” Enid offers.

“I’d love to. What were you thinking of toppings?” Tom sits on the countertop.

“Barbeque chicken, bacon, jalapenos, and onions.” Enid finds a pizza place on her phone.

“You’re a mind reader.” Tom adds laughing.

“No way, that’s my go to pizza order.” Enid dials the place. She orders the pizza and goes to sit in the living room with Tom. The pizza comes and the two eat in silence watching the waves crash into the shore.

“Are you okay?” Tom asks as Enid sits down after throwing away the plates.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“That’s an awful answer.” Tom laughs.

“Don’t tell Taylor.” Enid starts.

“Interesting start, sure.”

“When we left the room this morning to talk privately, she told me the other girls didn’t like me and thought I was too fat to hang out with her. I told her I wasn’t upset because it’s not surprising but that was a lie.” Enid admits.

“Enid. Why didn’t you tell her that?”

“Tom, it's not that easy. She’ll never know that feeling of people rejecting and ostracizing her.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s pretty and famous. They’re all pretty, skinny, and famous.” Enid huffs.

“You’re pretty.”

“I know I’m gorgeous, that's not what this is about. It’s the fact that people are saying I’m not good for Taylor’s image because of my looks. I mean who made and brought Taylor soup, when she was sick. Me, not anyone else here.”

“You do live with her.”

“Tom, not the point.”

“That is the point. “

“How?”

“She trusts you enough to ask you to live with her.”

“But Maybe I shouldn’t live with her anymore. The girls told Taylor I’m a clout chaser. I don’t even know what that is.”

“It’s someone that uses another person to gain attention.” Tom explains.

“I would never.” Enid says offended.

“Where would you even move to?” Tom asks.

“London, sounds nice. I got a personal tour guide.”

“You’re talking about me, right.”

“Bingo.”

#tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x ofc

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

Text

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 16)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

UPDATES FOR WITCHER OF THE NIGHT WILL BE PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY NOW IN MY TIME (GMT +8)

CHAPTER 15.1

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: A horny and insecure witcher decided to talk what his mind has been keeping; making you see how much of a man he was that was worth to choose and be chosen.

Warnings: NSFW 18+. (Yep. Again. Love it while it lasts, bb’s. Hehehe.) Some witcher in a rut. Finger sucking. Cream pie. Smut. Size kink. (I meant Geralt’s body build. LMAO *I base this story on the show. Not the game or books.*) an irritated bard? Ahehehehe. Nakedness? Geralt being soft and honest? (*screams*)

A/N: I was drained from the last chapter and I’ve taken a break. I was supposed to not update today due to it. I hope you can lend at least a minute to reblog or give me feedback, ghost readers out there! 💟 There ain’t no moments like this anymore because the plot will take its place on the next chapters! ENJOY WHILE IT LASTS!

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue!

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi (GIF credits: littlechinesedoll)

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

GERALT OF RIVIA WAS IN A RUT.

You were sure he was after being fucked into oblivion by the witcher for countless of times already; taking a lot of orgasms in just about eight hours? He was lucky that he was a mutant. However, in your side? It was unfortunate because your stamina was weaker than his.

Your poor punani has been overworked and wrecked again. Lungs seem to be incapacitated, dangerously reaching the critical level for accepting Geralt's wishes; another round of ceaseless bliss in which you certainly didn't defy. Pants and wheezes were muddled against the mattress as you shoved your face on it, vigorously being burrowed from behind.

Here you thought; feeling mighty and confident that you could take and last for how long his enhanced self would.

Technically, you were wrong. Utterly wrong.

Was it round twenty-five already? Thirty? You may never know because every time Geralt finishes, his girth somehow magically becomes stone hard again like he never spilled himself inside you. If only he wasn't sterile, you were probably about to get pregnant with little witchers somehow based on how he always milks you in; like you were his pet, letting you take it good.

The white wolf's libido was overly developed as well. As you were told by the man, himself. He could go on for hours, days and even weeks, nailing you repeatedly until you have no energy to comprehend what was happening, and you were sure that his enhancement with the desires he had was a perk and also a disadvantage for your weak self who had her virginity taken just days ago.

Your sexual experiences are being expanded and learned by Geralt, not knowing before that you had a size kink of being choked in his own weight above yours, baptizing every nook and space in their home like animals in heat and being treated like you were such a fragile little thing before being corrupted; tainting your once chastised soul.

The witcher was a person who had given you a different outlook in life. Bringing you to a wonderland in the midst of being railed repeatedly; consistent with his rigorous, shameless pounding from the back. Brusque. Sharp. Perfect for the angle that hits the perfect spot, polishing your hole that has sent you ripples and waves of glory.

Geralt's moans were withdrawn, holding back those sounds of pleasure from ponderously watching his girth push and slither inside your heat. His mouth tightly shut and thick eyebrows scrunched in rapture. Aureate eyes intensely concentrated on his hard cock slowly drilling back, keeping his bulbous head in before slowly drawling back like he like watching you be filled with his girth; admiring how you were stretched around his hardened cock.

He'd felt your body intensely tremble beneath his.

Your knees were quivering with every plunge. Warm drizzles of your cunt leaking with a mixture of his fluid and yours together; like art combined with a color that creates a new one. The room smelled like sex and sweat with a scent of fresh grass because of how the windows were wide opened.

Nobody would see you both in such a debauched position, right? you've thought that when Geralt has lowered you down against the mattress, his weight crushing and pinning you down, quickly getting to his job; sticking his girth inside of you like he never would get tired of doing so after basically baptizing the hallway through the second floor.

Elbows began to feel sore. A desperate whine began to gurgle from your dry throat. Hand tightly grabbing onto one of his that laid on the curvatures of your hips, dragging you back to his swollen girth with every shove; filling you over and over like how you deserved because you've been a good girl. Every time he did, Geralt never misses the spot that could bring you into another restless, writhing orgasm.

The filthy sound of skin slapping on skin came with icherous slimy caresses of your nectar coating each other's carnal greed. Noise came with his bedpost hitting the wall like a maddened gorilla raging out of its cage, when all of a sudden; you've heard Kolby's strange bark that seem to come from the first floor, alarming you both that his family has already came back. Yet, here you were, splayed below the witcher and still getting driven to his extremes.

Geralt pulled his hand away from the bed post, leaving a print and a crack of his hand against the wood. His fingers slid through your dangling breasts, palms groping your teat as he began to knead onto it like a cat trying to suckle from his mother; claws out as he tweaked your sensitive nipple in one breast to the other. Simultaneously changing hands as he continued to reach you both to the edge of Nirvana.

Then, you've heard laughter and complaining downstairs.

"Geralt," you started with a mewl, your body being rocked from behind, the sheets thoroughly disheveled from your tiring day activities. His hand that fondled your teat trailed up your body; while the other glided down for what throbbing nub that was needed attention for another release.

His palm gently met your mouth when you've began to moan from his fingers touching your clit, rubbing and circling it the right, pleasuring way while he went on with his ceaseless ramming.

"Hnnng," you whimpered, voice muffled from his large, calloused hand that covered your mouth; hushing you from any noise that could echo out of the room.

The way he was manhandling you does it. From the moment he tried shushing you up, your heat began to clench around him. Your body squirming and thrashing under his skin. Weakened from the sudden action as it made you tremble; feeling the coil beginning to snap with just a few more jabs.

More thuds and unfathomable complaints echoed outside the room. With Jaskier finally knowing what caused the commotion that he somehow managed to be in. Geralt didn't seem to be bothered about the fact that their table has been wrecked; though, the bard might say otherwise.

His plowing slackened when you’ve felt him breath heavily from behind,

"Shhhh. Quiet down, midget." he clasped his palms tighter on your mewling mouth; hearing his breathless grunts above you was making you squirm in his hold. It didn't take you another lewd moan when Geralt's thick index and middle finger skid in between the pillows of your lips, an act of pacifying your noise down which has gotten an elicit of your juices flowing down your thighs, soaking you more than ever. But, you never did deliberate to suck on those fingers like how your mind has told you.

The smutty action was enough for him to briefly glance down at you, engrossed and captivated by a never expected bustles from his naive, greenhorn of a woman.

Another weakened moan was muffled beneath the palm that clasped your mouth. Your fingers trying to wrench his own away from slightly pinching on your sensitive clit, dragging you to where you wanted.

Neverland. Nirvana. Heaven. Where ever you could experience bliss.

Or basically Geralt's bed because you were currently being brought to the edge of the rainbows.

He was persistent and continued rubbing on your nub, his thick, long fingers thoroughly drenched from your arousal.

"Ugh---Hmm. fuck." the white haired witcher deeply grunted and moaned, his jutting hips bottoming out as he continued his desperate, urgent drives. Thrusts turning reckless. Panting breaths like dogs in heat; embracing every bit of his urgency to reach the floating clouds.

Your real name has slipped out of his tongue, sounding so lewd which has taken you over the edge. Knees began to shake as the high took over. Muscles clenching and also your cunt tightly choking his girth to spill his seed, urging him to thoroughly coat your insides. Another loud breathless grunt left his ajar lips; the sweat dripping down his temples as it also drenched his chest from all the activities. His heartbeat was running miles after miles, chasing to catch yours.

"G-Geralt, Geralt, Geralt!" you've salaciously cried out with every sloppy thrusts in the midst of having a muscle spasm; choking in the blast of euphoria when he'd took his hand off your mouth, grabbing onto yours which has been holding onto the headboards for dear life. Hence, as the witcher pulled your hand away; he'd done the unexpected.

Geralt of Rivia has sweetly peppered the back of your hands with honeyed kisses to soothe your convulsion; treating you like he wasn't fucking you to oblivion nor corrupting you from behind.

You've heard his breath hitch. The way he'd dropped his large hand on the mattress over your small ones, gripping onto it hard; you knew he came. He'd panted heavily above you, the new position being surrounded by his gigantic warmth. Your juices soaking your inner thighs as his load shot inside you. All warm and cozy; giving you a fuzzy feeling inside your chest that you couldn't explain.

He never pulled out until he was finished. You were so full of him, his seed dripping out of your cunt when his semi-flaccid cock dragged out of your overused pussy, telling him how he’d filled you more than he planned to. Your knees eventually buckled and lost its will to be useful for you; your face down on the pillow, running short of breath as you planted over the tousled sheets.

Geralt laid on the bed beside you, his large body built turned to you with an arm tucked below his head. Basking in all his glory and sweat with amber eyes solely worried for your weary form. You sounded like you were wheezing as he hovered over to pull the blankets over your waist, shielding you over the cold, crisp wind of the afternoon dew. Your whole body coated in the satiny sliver of your sweat combined with his and the witcher couldn't help but take in the view that he longed to be habituated once again before you came along.

Did he...actually break you while being drilled? he silently thought at the back of his tousled, half tied chalky white hair.

"Midget?" He softly muttered, using an elbow to peer down before you. Aureate eyes lingering a little bit longer. His fingers extending to graze along the line of sweat that covered your spine before reconsidering, hands ought to brush your disheveled hair away from your face, taking his time as he glided his fingers down through the side of your face.

He doted on the spent image of your sprawled body in the middle of his bed. Your heart turning more warmer than it ever could when you've felt him watching you over, the blankets glazing atop of your skin as you've closed your eyes, trying to steady back your breathing.

"I'm...fine. Just...spent. Let me...breathe," you breathlessly whispered.

"Hmm."

His faint, vibrating hum slowly calmed the fluttering butterflies flapping their wings inside your stomach. He earnestly cast his eyes over you. The thick pad of his fingers tracing along the hairs of your arm; giving you a shiver, padding down till the tips of yours before strikingly filling in the gaps of your fingers with his. Such a simple action making your heart feel snug with a hint of palpitation from the sudden, unusual gesture from the white wolf.

Well, he was certainly learning.

You've taken a peek from under the flat fuzz of your pillows; seeing amiable, tired, tender eyes. Rough, large palms delicately scraping through your soft ones, entwined amongst the unkempt silk of sheets from the result of your passionate tupping.

With your eyes still shut, a jaded admission was sent to the latter; assuming things from your negative state of mind. This always happens in the movies, right? the small voice in the back of your mind stated. After all the blissful moments, complication and problems tries to hinder over the blithe that wanted you to believe that this was a much of a miracle to happen.

It was subtly telling you that your presence in their world had a time limit because you didn't belong to their world in the first place. Salt came pinching down your heart at the sudden realization of that; getting a gist of feeling by choosing to live in their world forever, there were instances that would get you coming back from your dimension. Every felicitious moment feeling like it was all temporary and a fleeting scene in your mind.

The idea struck like a lightning. You didn't belong to their world; nor do you fit in.

Such a change of heart that you wanted to scurry home since the first day you've arrived; thinking that everything was just a dream or a nightmare that couldn't wake you up. But, in this exact moment; you felt like not wanting to go home.

"Why do I feel like you wouldn't come back after your hunt?" you weakly muttered; brushing off the infectious thought that could bring the felicity down; pulling yourself closer to him. You've tossed the bad shadows trying to lure you in as you've focused on the golden light that Geralt could let you see through. His warm breath fanned your face as you heavily sighed out the worry crippling out of your chest.

"You're overthinking." he deeply rasped, hearing him breath steady; sounding like his declaration had a double meaning. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles as he continued to reassure your troubled self, "---I never leave nor would I plan to. My family is my home,"

Geralt collected his thoughts, breaking through the spell you've always had to cast him in. Only your exquisite scent being the fire to thaw his walls down. It took him seconds before bluntly saying his next words, making you flutter your eyes open to see him softly smiling back at you. His tone warm, comforting and nesh for your sensitive, soft heart soul.

"---you are also my home. I'll always come back to you---always will find you,"

Those words that he stunningly said made your heart skip a beat. The cicatrix glowing beneath the sheets without you knowing, ecstatic of what has come out from his lips as a burst of bliss spread right through your chest.

You've felt the adrenaline rush from his sudden admission and change of aura; abruptly making you nail your elbows on the table, repeatedly blinking back at the witcher when you've felt the balmy cloud of warmth spread around your eyes; close enough for you to cry and you languidly leaned down to his very peaceful face to softly give him a kiss on the lips in which he gladly reciprocated.

No. This wasn't sweet nothings where he tries to win over your heart. His words was a declaration of breaking those walls down for you. It was a key for you to come hopping in, an invitation of seeing the real him; his vulnerable side that nobody ever sees.

Hence, this was the first time you've had someone showing you what it felt to be important, needed and cared for. A person with real intentions. Sensations which you never knew it existed or believed that you would ever get to experience such.

Nevertheless, it took you a trip to another dimension just to have it.

Your mouth left his with a euphonious twang. There was no rush to the kiss or any type of greed. Just a succulent sharing of what you wanted him to feel from your quiet response of what he said. It needed no words of approval or even a shedding of your tears; erasing the worries away if you started bawling your eyes out from his secrets that he whispered. His thick brows furrowed in a questionable expression, intently eyeing your dewy peepers staring back at him. Utterly fond. The witcher feeling as if there was profound affection deep within your eyes as you tried to shield them over with that twinkling gaze of yours.

He knew what he was seeing or feeling from you. But, he chose to ignore as of the moment.

"Jaskier's fond of you," he abruptly admitted, downright apathetic; his gravel tone expressing a mixture of interest and a little bit of doubt, not for you but for himself.

That simple display of what you've visibly felt made your heart soften a lot more than it ever could. Finding it hard to believe that this person slash mutant in front of you also had his own issues, sounding diffident with just conferring about this surprising fact he noticed from his friend who seemed to be catching feelings for you that certainly was quite difficult to believe.

You were biting the tips of your tongue from saying anything further more, pulling back from driving too fast that maybe Geralt was falling behind.

"Jaskier? Your Jaskier? The bard who always tries to ruin my day? you’re hallucinating, Geralt." you wanted to snort from his accusation.

Geralt has given you a dirty look, appearing to look like he has issues with you that he didn't want to expand as he kept his silence and continued to send a grimace. Was he hallucinating? Were he hallucinating when he'd read those words upon your lips hours ago? Was your endearment just a slip of your tongue? A simple caught up in the heat of the moment?

Was he also just hallucinating when you’ve called him ‘love’?

"Am I, really?" the witcher stated flat, sending a displeased hum as he subtly played with the softness of your fingers clutched to his bigger ones.

Your eyes turned wide from his deadpan, "What did I do? That banter sounded sarcastic, kitty!"

The latter slowly blinked, dragging a sigh as his baritone timbre turned stern and also meek no matter how hard he tried to cover it up from the roughness that he wanted it to sound like, you could read between the lines and sure enough, he was self-effacing from his friend who was also fond of you.

"Do...you like the bard?" he hesitatingly trailed off. The question ending with a pause as it sounded completely unforthright. You've given him a tender beam; child like and masking with nothing but innocence, affection and understanding, "Go on. I'm listening. Tell me what's on your mind," you started, seeing his tight lipped mouth shut. Those amber eyes briefly looking away from you,

"---Come on, please? Let me understand and see through the good heart that I've always believed in,"

Geralt gave it a moment. Exactly a minute as you've accepted the tranquil silence with him. Such silence that you have never imagined to be so comforting because back in your apartment, the stillness was eerie and cold; imagining hands trying to take your soul away from surviving a life by working in another country where you had no one but you.

"You're...significant to me." his glowing amber eyes turned heartfelt, shooting warmth through your skin and chest, "---you are a lot to handle. An unorthodox in my dimension. Yet, despite that, you're the havoc I didn't know I needed,"

"You're calling me chaotic. How sweet of you," you deadpanned, snorting from his metaphors that got you successfully rolling your eyes back at him.

"Your existence brought me sheer confusion about you. But, I'd rather have that befuddlement than to not be with you,"

Destiny brought you to him. Those assumptions he'd taken into consideration was now taken into account. Thus, destiny just needed this to not fuck it up. It shouldn't because he much rather not imagine how it would happen nor how he would be able to accept such fate laid before him.

"Jaskier's...a friend---he's important to me," he continued, feeling your other hand fall onto the side of his face; soft fingers tracing along the scar on his forehead and cheekbones with that glimmer in your eyes that make him want to give you another kiss; readable in your peepers was the acceptance he never knew he needed so badly, "---No matter how annoying he is. He's still my companion. A real...friend. I've seen how comfortable you are with him, saw how compatible you were with the bard,"

You've stopped brushing your fingers along his marks. Your free hand sluggishly propping below your chin as you've peered down. A small grin curling your lips, "When have you been a love guru? Does this version of you come up with a graphic chart that tells how many percentages do I seem to be compatible with Jaskier?"

He kept silent, staring straight into your eyes with a lukewarm expression; not understanding your references.

You've given him a faint raise of your brow, skeptically looking at him with an amused flicker of your peepers, "You've seen us that night. Explains why Jaskier was ranting about the door you've broken,"

Geralt kept his mouth tightly shut, shortly looking away before giving you a pensive response, "I've already fixed it---and you know it was not just about that,"

Pulling your closed fist under your chin, you've tilted your head to the side. Pleased by his tamed reaction as you've leaned closer to his face, adoring Geralt's sublime features that never fails to charm you everyday. His charisma totally knocking your wits out as you could finally see more of his true self.

You started, your words smoothly dancing per word; sounding utmost sincere and in wonder, "People in your world say witchers don't feel emotions," even being disregarded like they weren't humans, you silently added much more to yourself when you paused to talk, "---Well, my witcher is exactly the opposite because you're full of it even though you sound unenthusiastic all the time---comes with the mutations, I guess?"

The soft look in his eyes warmed your soul. Attentive of the stars that seem to float inside those amber pair; looking like he'd caught them for you. He stayed silent, never breaking his gaze away from you nor planning to move away from your body close to his.

"Do you want me to be with the bard?" your question caught him off guard, keenly reading through what your eyes wanted to say. The query sounding like it was just a quip.

"Will that make you happy?"

Geralt warily asked, completely earnest of what he said that made you bite the inner plump of your lips. There was a long amount of silence, contemplating what made him think that way, even considering the idea of never getting in the way when you'll choose another person than him. Was he even real?

Your smile fell a little at the question, swiftly unwrapping your hands entwined with his which ignited a tight frown from the witcher when he miscalculated the sudden gesture. But, those dreadful thoughts ceased when you've poked his muscular chest, the part where his heart loudly beat beneath the pad of your index finger.

"Will that make...YOU happy?" you slowly emphasized and returned the question, intently gazing above him. When he never answered and stayed quiet, it was the right time to say words that couldn't be kept to yourself. You've forgotten to bite your tongue from saying anything further less.

"---But, YOU make me happy, Geralt of Rivia. Isn't that enough reason to choose you?"

Keen golden eyes deeply gazed into yours, as genuine than it has ever been before; sucking you in and having no chance to escape from the resplendent color of his hues. Geralt moved beneath to help himself by using his elbow, his sudden elevation making you tilt your head back to see him deeply staring, mouth turning into a tight straight line as he rasped.

"Even if it takes for your life back in your world to be taken away from you---fuck." he abruptly stopped in the middle of his sentence, briskly taking a glimpse of the door behind you when he could hear stealthy padded footsteps hiking up the stairs.

Jaskier.

Geralt sharply sat his back on the headboard. His silvery, unkempt half-tied hair moving as he does so, the white sheets pooling just below his torso. He looked bedraggled and utterly sweaty which made it feel so fulfilling to have him in your presence looking like that. A miraculous snack. You could never have this opportunity back in earth.

You bit your lips from keeping yourself from grinning, curiously eyeing him as you mused. He deliberately scanned your exposed back, "What? What's happening?"

The latter took no questions and quickly pulled the covers over your shoulders as you laid on your front, slightly elevated with the help of your arms tucked under. He loudly sighed, sitting back on the wooden board. Recognizable footfall thumping louder and closer before a wind up bard barged in the room without knocking or announcing his presence.

"You two!" Jaskier exclaimed, ceasing midway in the middle of the room; looking lost and piqued. His pretty face morphed into a tight frown to find you and Geralt utterly rumpled under the sheets. You tossed a look over your shoulder to see the bard straight up crashing inside like there has been no lock or whatsoever.

Geralt motioned with his hands, palms on either side to show how taken aback he was from his friend who came trudging in like he owned the place. His face hinting with displeasure. Wordlessly gesturing towards the bard with a 'What the fuck?' face.

You skeptically hushed whispers beside the witcher, timidly pulling the covers over your wild head, looking stunned as you exclaimed, "I thought you locked the room? I told you to lock it!---What if it was Cirilla?!---Don't you know what a lock is, Geralt?!"

Despite of your panicking and embarrassed state, he was entirely the opposite as he sounded lackadaisical, going on by glaring at the bard who has his face scrunched in utmost displeasure, "I didn't expect them to arrive home this early." the witcher rolled his eyes from his galled self and sent a scowl towards the bard.

Jaskier raised his brow in disbelief, "Early? We've been gone for 8 hours, Geralt!"

"Well, I thought you'll be gone for at least a day and not barge in our room after we had a 'moment', Bard. A knock would’ve suffice."

Another set of padded footsteps, this time it sounded like this person was merrily hopping through the hallway. Until a ball of Ashen hair peeked through the opened doorway with a short Hirikka standing in the middle of the threshold.

"I'm here---woah!" Cirilla seemed to be knocked out of her boots when she saw you emerging from under the covers, bashfully covering your chest with the sheets, looking mortified by everyone seeing you in that kind of state. You were glaring at the witcher who tossed your off the side for a while as he dealt with his scandalous and crazy family.

"---I knew it!" the princess of Cintra loudly clapped and jumped on her feet. Her excitement immediately dying down when she noticed that you both weren't actually clothed beneath the white blankets. She firmly crossed her arms, her nose scrunching in disgust, "---Also, gross! Please do lock the doors next time!"

She whistled at the flabbergasted Hirikka who was sniffing the whole room in bewilderment; stout stopping before the bard as he sniffed him loudly enough for Jaskier to wave his face off away from his face. Cirilla whistled another, catching the beast's attention and making Geralt wince due to his heightened hearing, "Kolby, let's go! I'm giving you a nice warm bath!" before she shut the door closed behind them when he'd run off towards the princess.

Geralt and Jasker were giving each other stern glares; seeming to be in a challenge where one shouldn't back down despite of how mean it appeared to be like.

Jaskier was the first to talk, beginning his interrogation, "Who ruined the dining table?"

You swallowed the butterflies wanting to fly out of your throat, lifting a shaky finger to point at the witcher who was still as he sat on his side of the bed, "I’m definitely not the person who has superpowers here---It's him," but, Geralt seemed to answer in the same time with you.

"No one."

Jaskier didn't seem to want and take everyone's bullshit as he crossed his arms in front of you both. Geralt's clothes on one hand and yours in the other that made a blush go straight up your whole face, burning the dignity that was left. You wanted to yell from how irresponsible you were for leaving your clothes all around the house when you promised yourself that it'll be fixed after your activity.

You didn't expect Geralt to take eight hours---or you did?----and actually forgot what was needed to remember.

"Oh, no one, Geralt? I suppose this shirt is also owned by no one, considering how unclad you are right now? Hmm. Would this tunic come from the Hirikka then?" the toubadour raised his hand where Geralt's black under tunic has been balled up.

Jaskier dramatically puffed out a sigh, sounding like it was the end of the world for what has welcomed them when they came back from their weekly visit for Cuthbert. He held forth about your sudden shenanigans around the house like a father delivering a tirade.

"We leave for eight hours and this is what you both welcomed us in," pause. "---A broken bloody table where we dine!" Another pause as he threw Geralt's clothes at his face in which he caught it perfectly, "---your clothes everywhere in the house like snakes who shed their skins anywhere they go!"

Lastly, his foot fidgeted on the wooden floors, tapping in anxiety as he remembered that tiny scratch he had seen on his beloved musical instrument, entirely galled from the wound it received like it was his baby.

"---and also my lute---my beloved lute falling on the floors! You've hurt her!"

"We didn't touch your lute," Geralt's response was tepid, lazily blinking back at the enraged bard who stood in the middle of the room.

Jaskier's raised his hands to his hips, raising a finger and opening his mouth, expression wild and ready to send another harangue before back paddling inside his train of thoughts.

He briefly shut his mouth, tilting his head to the side as he wondered out loud, "Oh, maybe the air pushed it to fall. I remembered how I left the windows opened too. However---!"

Geralt cut his verbal onslaught, his gaze narrowing at Jaskier who also didn't back down at sending a nasty lour at the entertained witcher.

"I'll fix whatever is needed to fix, bard. Stop your whining," you've felt the bed squeak and bounce. Geralt slipped his legs out of the sheets, feet plopping down the floors as he heavily sighed. It needed power; manpower for Jaskier to leave the room and Geralt knew he wouldn't leave until he pushes him out of the threshold.

The witcher stood tall and firm, completely au naturel from head to foot like how he have been when he was a baby, stark naked without being moved by the idea that Jaskier was in the same room as you. His bare ass never shaking him off and so does the bard.

"Leave. Out of my chambers, Jaskier."

Geralt sauntered to where he is. Your eyebrows raising in amusement as you've marveled over the witcher in the nude. His beautiful, rugged bare back on show with that A+ rating of his derriere in which you freely tried to memorize inside your head.

Though, you couldn't help but take a glimpse of Jaskier who seemed unfazed by this whole nakedness he was seeing; like he was familiar of the whole thing and the white wolf's dangly bits hanging and it has peaked your curiosity.

Do they bathe together then?

The bard has seen your amused smile with a skeptical brow raised to what you were witnessing. Thus, he peeked around Geralt to acknowledge your curiosity; pointing at you with a roguish grin, "That face tells that you have been swimming deep inside the vast depths of the sea, wondering why I am not bothered by the witcher's nudity---"

"Jaskier," Geralt sent a tired warning and held his slim shoulders, forcefully turning him around as he pushed him forward, towards the door.

"---It's because I have rubbed chamomile onto his lovely bottom before! It was true! I never lied! It was a part of the rules in becoming the rightful travel companion until you came along and began rubbing it for himself! Though, I doubt you did it to join our adventures!---"

You couldn't help but stifle your tee-hee from his admission. Finding their friendship amazing to the point that he does it for Geralt; receiving nothing but his altruism and adventures that the witcher has shared together with him.

Geralt loudly closed the door behind Jaskier; his mouth running on and on about how such a change of habits it has been when you came in their life. He'd knock a lot of times, calling out for the both of you and trying to want and barge in your moment but your white wolf finally knew what a lock is and slid the wooden block over the hook to lock his chambers.

"He seriously rubs chamomile on your butt?"

The skyclad man turned on his heel, raising a skeptical brow as you tried to focus hard on his face and not his body that stood before you.

"I guess that silence means yes, then. Oof, such bromance! Don't you think I'm the one who's actually becoming a hindrance between your platonic relationship with your bard?"

"Ridiculous." He took several steps closer, making you turn your head from becoming too flustered over his glorious, scarred body that he certainly isn't afraid or diffident about his imperfections anymore after you've treated them like it was a part of him that you will always accept. Geralt sat on your side, reaching over the bedside table to look beneath the drawers.

The latter placed a small, transparent bottle on your hand. A clear yellowish tone of liquid inside as you stared at it, thoroughly intrigued, "What's this? Is it another one of your witcher potions?"

Geralt hummed in negation, lifting his calloused hand to take your chin in between his fingers, turning your head to look at his ardent, shining amber, "Eucalyptus Oil. Took it from Cirilla's chambers. For you---For later. Perhaps, our recent activities had you feeling utterly spent,"

You've blinked, taken aback from his plans for whatever it is he wanted. Though, it didn't take you to put two on two together to know where his plans would take you, "Why are you---Oh. I know. I definitely know what you want." pause. "---you are insatiable, Geralt."

Geralt gently nudged your chin, tilting it up to his advantage as he leaned down to press a soft buss to your lips. Once again, he'd took your breath away by how tender he was handling you. The mere opposite of what people see and expected from because they never had the chance to walk through him; they didn’t have the courage to know who he really was.

His thumb that rested upon your chin were easily replaced with his lips, kissing you on the spot before gliding the dimples of his nose to yours, subtly giving you an Eskimo kiss.

"My overly developed lechery certainly comes from the mutation,"

Geralt's mouth lifted into a small, unusual beam, fluttering his eyes closed as he concentrated on you and that specific comfort he found. Questions came hitting him like stones, breaking the mirthful bubble that he was brought in.

He didn't want you to go home anymore because he'd found home in you.

But, what if fate had move mountains and threw his happiness away again? Leaving him no choice but to watch you go?

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means I can’t tag you, bb’s! 💖) @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @vania-marie @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-starfleet @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernatural @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer @marvelousell @kingniazx @angelias134 @tapismyforte @chook007 @covid-donotenter @winter-moons @cheesecakeisapie @silverkitten547 @angelofthor @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum, @stuckupstucky, @shesthelastjedi, @a--1--1--3, @gutfucks,

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza

General taglist for Henry: @agniavateira, @iloveyouyen, @rahdaleigh,

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stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 3 years

Note

hey! so, i've been a huge fan of your writing for a while now. you always offer me so much inspiration within your stories, i absolutely love your ability bring life to all the characters and settings you write about. and idk if you're still accepting requests for your otp mix n' match challenge, nor if you'd even consider doing this request haha, but- could i perhaps request 15 & 11? i am super interested in potentially seeing what your take on my personal otp would be! much love either way

Hi, this has been in my drafts for like.... forever. Since April or May, I think? Oh boy. My apologies, I completely forgot about it until I stumbled across it today. But hey, better now than never, I suppose. Also thank you for your kinds words! I truly appreciate it! :D

“Louis and Mitch pretend to date to make others jealous but you know what happens.”

Read on AO3

This is a joke.

This is a joke and he’s the butt of it.

How did the fuck did he end up here?

Mitch knows this has to be a joke because Louis did not go through this much effort for it to not be a joke.

The remaining fries on the plate have gone cold, mushy beneath the squirt of bright cheddar cheese. Walter’s Diner has the best fries in this hellhole of a town, and usually, they’re the first thing he chows down before finishing his burger or even touching his shake.

Fuck. Fucking hell.

It’s hard to concentrate on and enjoy his food with Louis’ arm behind his neck, hand casually resting over Mitch’s shoulder as he and Violet argue whether they should order a basket of donut holes or four slices of peach pie for dessert.

“They’re stuffed,” Violet says, pointing at the menu, reading, “‘Our bite-sized delights are baked to perfection, stuffed with our delicious cream cheese filling, and tossed in a heavenly mixture of cinnamon and sugar.’ And you’re telling me that doesn’t sound good?”

“And you’re telling me that a slice of Walter’s famous peach pie doesn’t make your mouth water?” Louis sighs. “I’m salivating just thinking about it.”

Violet wrinkles her nose.

“Peach pie sucks.”

“You suck.”

“C’mon guys,” Aasim butts in, eyes rolling in that exasperated way he gets whenever Louis and Violet do this. “Donuts suck, pie sucks, and you both suck. Let’s order ice cream.”

With a hand pressed against his chest, Louis lets out his fakest, most dramatic gasp. Next comes the obnoxious- and probably offensive- British accent.

“Why, my dear Mitch, Violet, did you hear what this lickspittle just said to us?”

Violet’s last tater tot goes flying as a response, bouncing off Aasim’s nose.

“Are you serious?” Aasim snatches the tater tot back up, throwing it at Louis.

“Hey! Rude!” Louis laughs, his arm slipping out from behind Mitch to try and catch the tot. “What did I do?”

Without a thought, Mitch grabs the offending tot and tosses it back at Aasim, who catches it and lets it drop onto his plate.

“Knock it off, guys,” he says. “It shouldn’t take this long to decide on a dessert. I vote pie.”

That makes Louis smile.

“Ah, a man after my own heart,” he sighs, shifting closer against Mitch’s side- Jesus Christ almighty- and pressing quick kiss against his cheek.

Fuck everything. Fuck, fuck-

This causes Mitch to suck in a breath, only to cover it up by coughing into his sleeve. God, his face is going to melt off, especially if Louis keeps looking at him like that.

“That’s not a surprise,” Violet rolls her eyes, ignoring the kiss and Mitch’s coughing fit. “He sucks, too.”

“Can’t we just agree that we all suck?” Louis says.

“Can’t you ever shut your pie hole?”

“Can’t we all just order different desserts?” Aasim pleads, finger jabbing at the menu on the table to emphasize his point.

Louis and Violet look at one another, puzzled as if that idea never occurred to them. At this point, Mitch didn’t even care about dessert, didn’t really even want any.

Louis shifts and there’s the warm, distracting press of his knee against his and Mitch has never been so tense in his entire life.

He's too fucking close. Too close. Too close. And he kissed him. On the cheek, sure, but fucking hell-

Never has he felt such tension in his body, even when something obnoxiously embarrassing passes his father’s mouth, or when Willy’s fingers slip from the branches of whatever tree he’s climbing and he almost plummets to the ground.

He doesn’t know what’s worse: the fact that Aasim won’t stop gawking at them every time they do anything, or that Louis is fucking comfortable doing the things that make Aasim gawk in the first place.

This whole thing is nothing but a cruel joke that Mitch was stupid enough to take the bait for.

And for what? A promise of Louis buying him lunch every day for a month? Was a free meal every day worth this level of anxiety and... gross feelings?

“Fine,” says Violet. “I’ll eat a whole basket myself, but don’t any of you dare eyeball them. You had your chance.”

“I won’t eyeball your donuts if you don’t eyeball my pie.”

“I won’t because pie sucks.”

“You suck!”

“Oh my god,” Aasim abruptly twists around, desperately tapping on the shoulder of a now startled waitress. “Two slices of peach pie, a basket of donuts holes, and an ice cream cone to go. Please. I want to go home.”

The waitress stares at him, baffled, before nodding and getting away from their table as quickly as possible.

Louis chuckles, arm slipping back behind Mitch as he says, “I think she likes you.”

“Shut up!” Aasim frowns. “I swear to god...”

Louis continues to laugh, but he steals a glance at Mitch. Something softens and it’s... Mitch doesn’t know what the fuck it is. Ever since they started this, sometimes Louis will look at him like that.

From what he can tell, Louis doesn’t even look at the girl like that, and she’s the entire reason they’re doing this.

That girl- what the fuck’s her name? He couldn’t have possibly tuned Louis out every time he mentions her- the redhead from his art class or whatever. She’s the one who started this bullshit.

About a month ago, Louis wrote him a note detailing, “I need your help. Meet me by the school entrance during lunch? It’s important,” while they’re in the middle of a pop quiz. As if Mitch didn’t have enough to worry about with all the damn fractions scattering the quiz, but then he was left worry about what the hell Louis needed his help with.

Also, he did this without Mr. Garcia noticing. How the fuck that’s possible is beyond him. If they were caught, both of their quizzes would’ve been ripped to shreds. Mitch didn’t need that shit right now.

Then, the entrance was barely in sight by the time Louis snuck up on him, grabbed his arm, and proceeded to drag him outside and across the parking lot so they could hop into the safety of Mitch’s hand-me-down truck despite Mitch’s protests. He hadn’t cleaned his truck of its fast-food wrappers or loose sheets of forgotten homework in weeks, and that left him worried that the air freshener didn’t work.

Finally, Louis managed to explain this so-called plan of his to Mitch with a straight face, not cracking once. He actually sounds serious enough that Mitch might’ve believed him if this bullshit wasn’t so... so bullshit.

“I really like her,” Louis had said, “and Violet said this kind of thing could get her attention.”

Of course, Mitch didn’t agree so easily because the plan was- nd still is- stupid.

“You think pretending to date me is gonna get her attention?” he scoffed. “I’m not fucking doing this. Ask Vi.”

“I can’t ask Vi. She doesn’t date dudes and I’m pretty sure Brody would, like, break me in half or something.”

“Fine, Aasim then.”

“C’mon, you know Aasim would never.”

“Well,” Mitch threw his hands up. “I would never! Find someone else because I’m not gonna be your fake boyfriend so that you can make what’s-her-nut jealous!”

Jokes on him- Mitch’s been Louis’ fake boyfriend for weeks now because he hasn’t wooed what’s-her-nut yet. Which wasn’t that the whole point? They just pretend while she’s around? Not when they’re alone or when hanging out with Violet and Aasim?

Louis said it was to make it as real as possible, just in case what’s-her-nut found out. That doesn’t explain why Louis is the way he is when it’s just the two of them. Doesn’t explain the kiss on the cheek.

Mitch eats a cold fry, cringing at the taste. He can feel Violet looking at him while Louis goes on about something that happened in choir. When Mitch meets her eye, she smirks, raising a knowing brow. Mitch gives her a light kick under the table.

When the waitress finally brings them their dessert in separate bags, she doesn’t stick around long and avoids eye contact with Aasim.

“Hey, Vi,” Louis leans over her shoulder as they’re leaving the diner, “Can I have a donut hole?”

“I will stab you, your boyfriend, and your pie.”

“Hey, not my pie!” Louis grabs Mitch’s hand, knocking his shoulder into his. “Or my Mitch!”

Fucking hell.

Mitch doesn’t know how much longer he can handle this.

#twdgmixchallenge #twdg louis #twdg mitch #twdg violet #twdg aasim #twdg louitch #“Louis and Mitch pretend to date to make others jealous but you know what happens.”#it's been forever since i've done one of these #holy shit #i'm gonna barely edit it because it'll never get posted if i try to edit it #that's just who i am #hahaha #sorry it took forever but here ya go #it's been in my drafts since like... april i think #yeesh.... haha #i'm bad at what i do don't mind me #asks

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tuberosumtater · 6 months

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wha

#tater's art chest #fanart #rkgk #doodle #low effort doodle #treasure island #treasure island 1978 #anime treasure island #takarajima #treasure island 1988 #ostrov sokrovishch #jim hawkins #宝島 #ジム・ホーキンズ #جزيرة الكنز #Остров Сокровищ

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andtheyweredeskmates · 4 years

Text

Of Latte’s and Lingerie- Chapter 6

I’m delirious, sleep deprived and high on caffeine but I did the the thing so who’s really winning here? Anyways, if you haven’t already, here’s the previous chapters 1 2 3 4 5 or a link to AO3. Also, if you wanna be added to the taglist please tell me, I’m a whore for praise. Hope this doesn’t suck. Rock and Roll.

Taglist: @catsssmeow

Marinette woke up feeling like someone had shoved a wad of cotton balls in her mouth. God she hated wine. One would think that after years of “wine nights” with Alya, she’d realize she should never participate in them on work nights. Marinette glanced halfheartedly at her phone, searching for the time.

7:00

“FUCK!”

Marinette jumped up like she’d been prodded with a hot poker. She ran to her little chest of drawers and frantically grabbed the first pair of pants she saw. As she attempted to put them on, she simultaneously hopped toward her closet. After a quick analysis she grabbed a blouse that she only hoped complimented her pants. Marinette shimmied her way into her blouse and made her way into the bathroom. Tikki sat on the countertop glaring at her

“Meow.”

Marinette grabbed her toothbrush and squirted a generous amount of toothpaste on the bristles.

“I know Tikki but I have to be at work in an hour and god knows what traffic’s gonna be like.” Marinette brushed her teeth with purpose, contemplating the agenda of the day. She was never drinking with Alya on a Tuesday night ever again.

Marinette groaned at herself. She hated going to work without makeup. Because every single time without fail, Audrey had a passive aggressive comment to make.

Mari I know a good makeup artist if you ever need any tips.

Did someone die? You look awful.

Audrey was right. She was a bitch.

Marinette briskly walked into the kitchen and started the coffee pot, grumbling to herself about bitchy bosses. She checked the time on the oven.

7:05

Marinette began calculating. If she left by 7:15, she would be fine. That gave her 45 minutes to make a half hour drive. She’d make it with time to spare.

Audrey put up with a lot more from Marinette than she did from most people (for the sake of art, as she would say) but Marinette was not looking to push the limits. While she waited for the coffee to brew, she grabbed Tikki’s food from the pantry and poured it in the bowl. Tikki didn’t so much as glance at Marinette as she strolled into the kitchen and began eating her food. Marinette grabbed her brush from the counter of the bar and started brushing her hair wildly. When the coffee pot beeped impatiently at her, she quickly filled up her mug and one to go coffee for the road. It was gonna be one of those days.

Marinette put her hair in a quick sloppy French braid that fell down to just the center of her shoulder blades and gulped down her first coffee. When she glanced back up at the oven clock she sighed harshly.

7:10

Marinette grabbed her purse, chugged the last bit of coffee from her mug and slipped on some flats she kept near the door.

“Bye Tikki, I love you!”

…

When Adrien woke up he was more than a little disoriented. He couldn’t see a thing and he couldn’t breathe but he could feel fur buried in his face.

“Phlghhh.” His voice was muffled by the cat laying peacefully across his face. Adrien picked the cat up and held him up above his head.

“Is this what we’re doing now?” Plagg stared back with disinterest. Once Adrien set Plagg down on the empty side of the bed, he glanced at his beeping alarm clock.

7:00

Adrien sighed contentedly and strolled into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. His favorite part of his job was the late start. He had three hours of peace before he had to be at work so Adrien relished in it.

“Plagg, what do we want for breakfast?” Plagg elected not to dignify Adrien with a response.

“Yeah, I was thinking cereal too.”

…

No. nO. NO. NOOOO.

That’s what went through Marinette’s head when she got about 15 minutes down the road and realized she left the to go coffee sitting on the counter. It was at this point that Marinette began bargaining with herself.

If I drive five miles per hour over the speed limit for the next five miles and stop lightly but maybe not all the way at Dupont Circle, then I’ll have time to pick up an order from Dunn’s. Maybe I could call the store? God I hope Tim is there.

…

“Alright Plagg. I’m gonna go to Dunn’s. I’ll see you after work.”

“Meow.” Plagg didn’t so much as lift his head from the couch

“Don’t judge me! It’s perfectly normal for people to have multiple cups of coffee a day. Good day to you sir.”

“Meow.” Adrien scowled as he stepped in to the hall.

“I SAID GOOD DAY!”

Adrien probably would’ve laughed to himself if he didn’t happen to walk into the hall at the same time as three other residents in his apartment complex. He had to trudge his way to the elevator, avoiding eye contact with every living thing in his periphery. Is this what his father meant when he asked Adrien not to make a fool of himself?

…

“Thank you, Tim. You’re a lifesaver, I’ll be there in 5!” Marinette hung up the phone and glanced at the clock.

7:30

Marinette did the math. She was at the light just in front of Dunn’s and she did the math faster than she’d ever done any math in her life.

Her job was only 15 minutes away from Dunn’s. If it took 5 minutes to get in, pay and get out, the light would probably be about 3 minutes long to turn in and out of Dunn’s. If you add all that together, plus the walk from the work parking lot to the door (which Marinette estimated to be about 5 more minutes), and if she was lucky, so very lucky, Audrey wouldn’t notice her being 1 minute late.

The things Marinette does for coffee.

…

Adrien was able to find his usual spot. He was able to order his usual mocha frappe and he was a little disappointed (but unsurprised) to see Marinette was not in her usual spot. Adrien had noticed after weeks of people watching that Marinette didn’t come to Dunn’s until after 5 pm, at which point she was usually frantically working on something. Adrien had also noticed that when he came in at about 7:30 every morning, he was the only person who would actually come in and sit down. Now, Adrien didn’t always go to Dunn’s twice a day… but he did it more often than he cared to admit.

“You know I give you all my money. I feel like you should at least take me out to dinner,” Adrien had joked.

“Nice try sweet cheeks,” Tim had said as he handed Adrien his change.

Adrien loved Dunn’s. What a peacefully, predictable and wonderful place.

…

“Yes. yES YES! YEEEEES!”

Marinette was right on schedule. She was screeching into Dunn’s at exactly 7:33 and she’d never been more proud of herself in her life.

…

Just as Adrien was beginning to settle in, the door busted open. Marinette arrived in the most ridiculous fashion Adrien had ever seen. She had a debit card in one hand, a shoe in another and she was breathing incredibly hard, as though she’d run a marathon. Her purse slipped from her shoulder to her elbow and it seemed like what had once been a French braid, was now a French mess because while the top of her head seemed to present her hair in a beautiful plait, as you moved down you could see that her hair was falling, falling ,falling until it was sprawled across her back.

“Tim, please tell me it’s already made?” Tim looked at her with wide eyes and a cautious expression.

“Um, I think I’ll add another shot of espresso while you pay, just uh, swipe.”

…

“Fuck me,” Marinette muttered. She dropped her shoe to the ground and tried to wriggle her foot back into it as she swiped her debit card.

“Are you okay Marinette?”

Now at this moment, Marinette froze in horror and a series of realizations hit her all at once. Number one, she’d forgot to put a hair tie in after braiding her hair that morning. Number two, she had walked into Dunn’s with only one shoe. Number three, when Tim said on the phone about 6 minutes earlier that the shop had been dead, he hadn’t meant empty. And finally, number four, the hot boy was sitting in his table in the corner.

“Oh, um yes! Just late! But I need coffee, and I left mine at home so I’m late and I stopped for coffee… Stress.” Marinette could practically see the word vomit coming from her mouth. This really was one of those days.

…

Adrien could physically see the stress on Marinette’s face before the word even came out of her mouth. He could tell she was nervous before her other words stumbled out too and Adrien felt awful for her.

“Well, maybe I can help! Here, I always keep an extra hair tie in my wallet for one of my friends. She’s kind of obsessive about her hair. Do you want to borrow it?” He could see a touch of relief in Marinette’s face.

“Oh my gosh. That’s really sweet, thank you!” Adrien glanced in the back and saw Tim give him a wink before busying himself with Marinette’s coffee.

“You know, we keep running into each other, but it’d be nice to actually plan a time to meet up. Why don’t I give you my number?”

…

Marinette was hyperventilating just a bit. There was a lot going on and it was very overwhelming. And that was the excuse she would give Alya when she explained the events that transpired there in that coffee shop.

She had handed the hot boy her phone and just as he’d handed it back, Tim had come back with the coffee. Without so much as a sideways glance at her phone, she snatched the coffee and turned briefly to face the hot boy.

“Thank you! Late. Really late. Gotta go. Lext you tater.” And with that, she gave Tim an appreciative nod, and ran out the door.

When she glanced at the clock in her car, Marinette was happy to see that she had a minute to spare before she needed to peel out of the parking lot. She chose this minute to take a look at the new contact in her phone. Finally Alya could stop bugging Marinette about not knowing his name.

When Marinette unlocked her phone and looked at her newest contact she had to take a full 3 minutes (that she didn’t have) to recover. There was screaming, maybe some crying, thrashing. It was a big ball of Why is this happening to me? She reread the contact name about 30 times before it really sunk in that this was really just one of those days.

Coffee Buddy.

The risk of going to Dunn’s that morning was calculated but boy was Marinette bad at math.

Next Chapter

#miraculous ladybug #coffee shop au #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette #adrinette #mlb fanfic #my fic #my fanfic #miraculous fanfic

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dexondefense · 4 years

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No Blood in the Sunrise

Pairing: Jack/Bitty Word Count: 13866 Rated M for violence TW: Graphic depictions of violence, demonic possession, mild body horror, guns, blood. stabbing, magic, supernatural creatures. Written for the @omgcpaubang

Summary: Jack is a Falconer, a hunter who specializes in the supernatural and demons in particular. Bittle is the head of a small witch coven dealing with a demon currently terrorizing the old frat house they call home. He is in over his head just enough to swallow his pride and risk calling in a hunter to help. It's a job just like any other for Jack, and the tightness in his chest he feels every time he looks at Bittle is nothing more than a distraction on the job. It's one night, one demon, and then he can get paid and move on with his life. Unfortunately, the best laid plans rarely mean anything when it comes to the supernatural.

This fic also has an amazing GIF SET done by @tangotangredi and some really great ART by @shadowfaerieammy. Thank you so much to you both.

Alicia Zimmermann was talking.

There was a smile around her words as her mouth moved, her eyes bright and she moved her right hand as she spoke. The tips of her nails were a bright flash white and the bracelets on her wrist shifted back and forth with each movement. But like her mouth, the bracelets that should have been clacking together made no sound. She was talking and talking, but no words were reaching Jack’s ears. He was straining to hear, to understand what his mother was trying to tell him, but he couldn’t make out a single word. Interrupting her seemed rude. She seemed so happy, so unconcerned as she talked at him in complete silence, so he didn’t try to make her aware of the problem.

But then, every few seconds there was a sound. It was a horrible screeching noise, an electronic buzzing that kept echoing through the base of his skull and tramping over whatever words his mother was trying to say. She didn’t seem to even notice the interruption. He considered, briefly, telling her he couldn’t understand her over the buzzer, and maybe asking if she knew where it was coming from, but moving his own mouth seemed impossible. It felt like he was underwater, as if he had not only forgotten how to hear words but also how to speak them, and panic was beginning to set in just as an awareness was coming back into his limbs. There was another screech of the buzzer as the world went blurry. Finally he heard someone speaking, but it wasn’t his mother.

“Jack, I swear to fucking God if you don’t answer that I’m going to come over there and I’m going to slit your throat and I’m gonna be so fucking pissed about it.”

Jack woke up as he usually did, all at once and with a vague sense of unease at having been incapacitated for so long.

“Fuck,” he hissed as he twisted on the cot he had been occupying. The curtains were all drawn tight, giving him no idea of what hour it was. “How long was I out?”

“I’m not your fucking keeper,” came the aggravated response from the pile of blankets on the nearest cot.

Jack ignored the rudeness of the answer, pushing the covers off of him as he set his bare feet on the floor. The chill wasn’t as bad as it had been the past few days. The cabin wasn’t well insulated, and when the wind blew he could hear it through the open rafters, but for now he couldn’t hear a sound beyond the hum of the space heater in the corner.

Until the buzzer went off again.

“Jesus Christ!” The mound of blankets hissed again, the pile shifting slightly as its occupant rolled over.

Jack scratched at the stubble on his chin before making his way to the ancient intercom on the wall.

“What?” he asked into the speaker, leaning his weight against the wall as he tried to get his bearings. It couldn’t be too serious, or someone either would have come to get him, or at the very least Snowy would be shaking him awake instead of just grumbling at him from under the mound of blankets he had accumulated.

The box clicked alive. “You have appointment,” came the garbled and staticky response.

Jack narrowed his eyes at the box, like he could see Tater through it somehow. “What?”

The box clicked again. “Someone is here to see you.”

“Who?”

“Fucking shit, Jack, just go the fuck downstairs.”

Keep reading on AO3.

#omgcpaubang #check please fic #omgcheckplease #check please #zimbits au #my writing

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fanartsarahtregay · 4 years

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TikTok Headcanons

Jamie would totally be an active user on TikTok. Not famous, but he definitely would have a lot of followers

The majority of his videos are timelasps of his artworks (like the person who edits Disney characters into modern hairstyles and outfits)

He gets requests to do more with certain colour pallets or graphics, which he loves to do for his viewers

He loves that people like his stuff enough to send in prompts and asks

But he also makes videos of himself and Mason

All those challenges? He’d do them

The towel drop in front of Mason

(Mason doesn’t look up for a few seconds, but when he does, his eyes widen and he’s out of his chair in a second and in front of Jamie by the next. He grabs Jamie’s phone and throws it to the side and the video ends on a black screen as it lands on the bed)

The “I feel like you could’ve been nicer to me today”

(Mason’s face drops and he looks like a kicked puppy as he starts apologizing before he even knows what he did wrong. He sidles up into Jamie’s side and buries his face in Jamie’s chest, asking what he could’ve done better. Jamie hugs him back and tells him that ‘if you could stop being so goddamn hot and distracting when I’m taking a test-’ and Mason punches his shoulder because he wasn’t even there)

The “I see it, I like it, I want it, I got it”

(It features many pictures of the two of them growing up, ending with a video of them kissing)

All of them

His most viewed video starts on his face while he’s walking across campus

“My boyfriend is so smart and clever and amazing and he could definitely go to Harvard or Yale but he’s here at this regular old school and every time I ask him why he doesn’t go to an Ivy League school,”

He sits on a bench in front of Mason and leans back into his chest and Mason hooks his chin over Jamie’s shoulder

“he always says,”

“Because I’d rather be here with you,” Mason says before kissing Jamie’s cheek

Jamie’s face dissolves into the fondest and happiest look as he erupts giggles

His viewers love it and it’s the video that draws in new viewers

Mason doesn’t understand why he loves TikTok so much, but he finds the videos endearing to watch

He doesn’t make his own videos, but he has an account to watch and support Jamie’s

He also has a lot of followers despite not uploading a single video, but because of the viewers of Jamie’s videos follow him

When they’re home in Boise, Jamie is constantly filming his sisters

A screaming Elisabeth refusing to eat her tater tots before it switches to selfie-mode to Jamie’s tired face a second before a tater tot hits his cheek

The girls slumped into a nap on top of each other

The girls clinging to his legs as he tries to walk

One of the more popular videos featuring the twins starts with Jamie ranting about how many times he’s had to listen to Let It Go and how he never wants to hear the song or watch the movie again

But then one of the girls asks if they can watch Frozen and he gives in with no hesitation because how can he say no to them??

Brodie and Kellen also watch all of Jamie’s videos for support, but they don’t catch as many followers as Mason does from Jamie’s fans

They sometimes comment on videos of Jamie and Mason being best friends/boyfriends

Some of those comments are variations of ‘get a room!’ on the couple-ly videos, like the towel drop challenge

They occasionally upload their own videos, but theirs are more sport centred than art and relationships like Jamie’s

You can bet Eden also follows Jamie and comments on almost every video he uploads

Even if it’s just a heart emoji

#Fan Art #Sarah Tregay #tiktok #headcanon #headcanons #tiktok headcanons #social media

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supergraphicultramoderngirl · 5 years

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i can’t be more chill, okay?

(a fic for @broadwayitbitch for the pride month exchange arranged by @swingsetboys who is super awesome for coordinating these events!! i really hope you enjoy your gift!!!)

word count: 1,213

—————————

It, really, was all Buffy’s fault.

They’d planned this for weeks, bought the tickets and everything, listened to the soundtrack for weeks on end, and then her final basketball game of high school, of course, landed on the same day.

And Andi couldn’t come because she was away at an art institute for a few weeks, and Jonah was off doing... something, honestly that kid needs a bell so we can keep track of him.

But, there was no way in hell that Cyrus Goodman was going to miss out on seeing his favorite musical. No way.

So, he made the five hour drive, alone, to go see it. Alone.

He walked into the theater and took his seat, waiting for the show to start (but not without snagging overpriced snacks first, of course). The seat to his right was empty because it was supposed to be Buffy’s, but the seat to his left was empty most likely because the person sitting next to him wasn’t there yet.

Until he was.

And, oh, was Cyrus screwed.

He sat stick straight (honestly the only straight thing about him at this point), not paying attention to anything except for the stage. That is, until he got a tap on his shoulder from the stunning boy sitting next to him.

“You want some candy?”

Cyrus turned his head and furrowed his eyebrows, trying to think of a response, any response. “Do you usually offer candy to strangers in theaters?”

Except that one.

“Sorry, I just thought since you were sitting alone, you were like me,” the boy replied.

“What do you mean?”

The boy shrugged, his dirty blonde hair flopping over while doing so. “I don’t know, I like seeing musicals and stuff by myself. You get to know some cool people sometimes, I guess.”

“Oh,” Cyrus replied, ever the conversationalist. “I, uh, my friend wasn’t able to make it with me.”

“Gotcha.”

A beat of awkward silence, and then the boy added, “My candy offer is still up for grabs, just for the record.”

Why the hell not? Cyrus sighed, “Sure. Hey, do you want some of my pretzel sticks?”

“I’m good, but thanks,” the boy responded, a soft grin on his face. “I’m TJ, by the way.”

“Cyrus.”

•••

The musical was amazing, as expected. Cyrus didn’t think it could top the soundtrack by that much, but it was probably one of the favorite nights of his life.

Sighing contently, Cyrus walked out the elevator to his hotel room. He was pulling out his room key when he heard a somewhat familiar, “No way!”

He turned his head to see TJ standing by the door to the room next to him, and began chuckling. “Well, what do you know.”

“I guess we’re neighbors, then, huh?” TJ joked.

“Guess so,” Cyrus replied, a slightly bewildered smile on his face.

TJ offered, “Would you want to come in and hang out with me for a bit?”

“How do I know you’re not a serial killer or anything?” Cyrus teased.

TJ shrugged. “I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

Cyrus peered into his room and saw the two empty beds. He knew he would just end up staring at the other bed, trying to fall asleep and wishing he’d gotten to know the “cute musical boy” better. He shut the door. “Sure.”

They walked in, both sitting on the bed. “So, are you from around here?” TJ asked.

Cyrus leaned back, putting his two hands behind him. “Nah, I live about five hours away.”

TJ squinted. “What city?”

Cyrus laughed inwardly, “You sure you’re not a serial killer?”

“No, I’m serious,” TJ replied, a smile on his face as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Shadyside.”

“You’re kidding.”

Cyrus furrowed his eyebrows. “You know where that is?”

“Know it? I’ve lived there my whole life! How’ve I never seen you around before?” TJ exclaimed.

“I mean, I went to private school when I was younger, maybe that’s it?” Cyrus suggested.

TJ stood up to grab a water from his cooler. “It’s gotta be. I would’ve remembered if I’ve met you before.”

“What do you mean?”

TJ turned around, smirking. “You’ve got too pretty of a face for me to forget it,” he said, twirling the water bottle in his hands.

And if Cyrus wasn’t flustered before, he sure was now.

“I-wh-um, you- you’ve got a nice face too, I guess,” Cyrus mumbled.

TJ winced. “I- sorry if that made you uncomfortable, I just thought that—“

“No, it’s fine,” Cyrus interrupted, a sudden surge of courage overcoming him.

The two ended up talking about everything and nothing for the following three hours, clicking better than either ever had with anyone else, until Cyrus noticed that it was nearly 2:30 am and he needed to sleep if he was going to drive home tomorrow.

“Shit, I’m really sorry to cut this short, but I’ve gotta go,” Cyrus said, walking up to the door with TJ trailing behind him.

TJ waved him off. “Don’t worry about it, it’s not like I’ll never see you again, now that I know we live in the same town, right?”

“Right,” Cyrus replied with a smile, shutting the door softly as he left the room.

They both slept better than they had in a long time.

•••

Unfortunately, reality has to hit you in the face at some point, and that was when Cyrus realized after he’d gotten home that he never got TJ’s number.

There would be no rom-com happenings of sorts for him for a while, as they didn’t know where to find each other.

And yet, a few months after they met, they did.

Cyrus pushed open the door to the Spoon, about to walk up to the counter to greet Amber and order some baby taters. But, she was already busy talking to someone, someone super familiar.

“TJ?”

He turned his head, breaking into a giant grin. “Hey, musical guy! I found you!”

Cyrus quirked an eyebrow. “I hope you didn’t forget my name.”

TJ tapped Cyrus’ chest. “I could never, Cyrus.”

Amber cut in, “I hate to interrupt this apparently lovely moment, but Cyrus, how in the hell do you know my little brother?”

Cyrus’ eyes almost popped out of his head. “He’s your brother?”

Amber sighed, “Unfortunately.”

Tj nudged her with his shoulder. “You love me.”

Amber rolled her eyes, “Whatever. Cyrus, you still haven’t answered my question.”

Cyrus smiled softly. “I met him at a musical.”

Amber smirked. “Ohhh, so you’re who my baby brother has been obsessing over meeting again for the past few months.”

“Amber!”

Cyrus teased, “You’ve been obsessing over me?”

TJ nearly became a strawberry in that instant. “Well, I wouldn’t say obsessing—“

“It’s okay, TJ. I wanted to see you again, too,” Cyrus interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder.

TJ grew nervous, fiddling with his thumbs. “Would you, maybe, want to see me on a date? The coffee shop across the street?”

Cyrus blushed, smiling softly. “I’d love to.”

“Alright, as sweet as this is, I need to work. Scoot over, lovebirds,” Amber teased as she walked over to a table.

Cyrus and TJ laughed, sharing a look.

Maybe there were some rom-com happenings after all.

#andi mack #tyrus #cyrus goodman #tj kippen #andi mack pride month gift exchange #pride month gift exchange #my fic #my writing #fic

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missweber · 5 years

Text

Here’s the final part of this story for Day 7 (Free Day) of @lardo-week! Please excuse any typos, but I am falling asleep as I type. AO3 version goes up tomorrow. I had good intentions, but Benadryl.

Read the entire thing on AO3

Chapter 7 - to arrive where we started

"We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time"

–T.S. Eliot

A year after Lardo graduated, her bà ngoại moved into a retirement community. It wasn't quite assisted living, but assistance was available.

At first, Lardo's mom looked at it as a failure on her own part. As a dutiful daughter, she should be the one to look after her mother in her old age just as her mother had looked after her during infancy.

Lardo knew all too well what it was like to struggle with the idea that what you thought you should do wasn't always the right thing to do.

Bà ngoại had laughed aside the idea as she patted mom's hand. "We would murder each other, my precious girl. Besides, I'm going because I want go and before I have to go. And all of my friends are there. I'll be able to play cards every day, if I like."

Oh, yes. Cards. Lardo had seen bà ngoại at the card table. Bà ngoại at the card table was like Lardo at the pong table.

It didn't take much imagination to see a younger bà ngoại kicking everyone's asses at flip cup.

Scratch that. It didn't take much imagination to see bà ngoại kicking everyone asses now.

"What are you smiling at, child?" Bà ngoại asked with an innocence that fooled absolutely no one.

"The way you're going to totally dominate the canasta table. So, do you need any help moving? I know some big strong guys who owe me a favor or five."

And so it was that all four foot ten of bà ngoại led a procession of current and former hockey players down the halls of the Fern Hill Retirement Community. Lardo wasn't sure what grapevine had been called into play, but all of her bà ngoại's friends had found some reason to pass through that part of the building.

Later, Lardo would swear she saw one woman fan herself like she was Blanche from the Golden Girls.

If the smugness radiating off of bà ngoại could be converted into energy, all of Boston would be shining like the sun.

Bà ngoại had few enough things that none of the guys had to make more than two trips. Ransom and Holster took their leave as soon as they were done, as did Snowy, but from the look of things, Tater had gotten himself adopted by a couple of elderly Russian widows, while Bitty had locked in on the community's most avid bakers as if he were a butter-seeking missile. She wasn't sure where Jack and Shitty had gone off to, but they could look after themselves.

The larger pieces of furniture had been set where they needed to be with little fuss (except for one carved wooden table which had to be set just so), and all the boxes were placed in the appropriate spots as decreed by Lardo's clipboard.

"Do you need any help unpacking, bà ngoại?"

Bà ngoại waved her off even as she dug into the one box that she had carried herself. "No... actually yes. I would love it if you got my bed made up. I have a few things I need to do before I can call this place home, and then I think I will take a nap."

It didn't take long to find the sheets and make the bad, thanks the clearly labeled boxes. When she returned to the living room, she smiled to see the old photo of her ông ngoại already set up on the carved wood table, right where it belonged, surrounded by the familiar vases, bowls, and incense burner.

But bà ngoại wasn't done with whatever it was she needed to make this place a home. She held a large framed picture to her chest and was clearly deciding between two possible walls.

"There, I think," bà ngoại said, pointing to the wall next to the kitchenette. "Can you help me hang this?"

This was a framed picture of a blobby, spiky animal—supposedly a triceratops—in faded pinks, yellows and oranges. It was an unskilled drawing, but Lardo could see the beginnings of a sense of color, of form, of light.

"Yeah," she said, voice thick. "Let's do this."

There was measuring, and marking, and squabbling, and a couple of bent nails, but eventually the picture was up.

"There. Now this is home," bà ngoại declared. Her late husband's photo and her granddaughter's drawing were both where they should be, and apparently that was all it took.

Lardo hugged her gently, remembering when bà ngoại had been the taller one and she was the smaller one.

Lardo had been Larissa back then, a little girl who had loved dinosaurs almost as much as she loved her bà ngoại.

"Do you remember how you always said you wanted to be a paleontologist when you grew up?"

Lardo sort of remembered that, but what she actually remembered was—

"You always used to get so mad when your parents told people how you used to pronounce it!" bà ngoại said gleefully.

"Arrrgh!" Lardo cringed in embarrassment and tugged at her hair. "They said it was cute! I hate being called cute!"

The way bà ngoại smiled said that she knew damned well just how much Lardo hated it—and found it cute.

"I remember how much you loved making up stories with your toy dinosaurs. Do you still have that big plush one?"

"Mr. Steggy?" She scoffed. "Heck yeah I still have him!"

"Good. I thought it was a little sad when you stopped being so interested in dinosaurs."

"Mr. Steggy is forever. And now I'm into ducks, which are, like, stealth dinosaurs."

She still remembered the little thrill when she learned that dinosaurs were still around in the form of birds.

They hadn't gone extinct.

They just weren't what you expected them to turn out to be. But they were still there.

She hugged her bà ngoại goodbye and went to collect her boys.

The others assumed that her thoughtful mood on the way home was due to the idea of moving her grandmother into a retirement community, but that was only part of it.

She thought about all the times her family asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up.

At first, she had wanted to be a paleontologist the way other kids wanted to be astronauts, back when it wasn't the reality of the job you wanted but the cool factor of ACTUAL MONSTERS or SPACESHIPS.

Then, there was the dream of being an artist.

And fuck it, she was an artist. She just also happened to be an equipment manager for a professional hockey team, a job that wasn't in any way, shape, or form on her list of dream jobs at any point ever.

But, via a 'happy accident,' George had mentioned something to Thirdy about needing to train up a replacement for Stu, and Thirdy had said something to Marty, and...

And because a previous 'happy accident' had led her to Jack and a job that got her away from that miserable deep-fryer, here she was.

She had taken to the job like a duck-billed dinosaur to water. It hadn't taken long for the team to take to her. Of course it helped that Jack already loved her, Tater already adored her, Snowy already admired her, and Poots already (rightfully) feared her.

She was jolted out of her musings when Jack pulled up in front of Haus 2.0.

"Later, gator?" Shitty asked. Lardo didn't say anything, but gave him a lingering kiss.

With training camp starting up soon, it made more sense to crash with Jack and Bitty during the week. In another year, she and Shitty would probably be ready to find a place of their own, so it didn't make sense to move into our out of either place completely.

Jack and Bitty had to go on a grocery run, which Lardo suspected was an excuse to give her some alone time.

Jack was a good bro, really he was.

Lardo let herself into the condo. The picture hanging next to the kitchen pass-through was familiar enough that she didn't usually notice it anymore, but now she stopped to look at it.

Bitty had declared that Still Life With a Fuckton of Jam was one of his favorite graduation presents, and the fact that he hung it by his beloved kitchen said more than a 'thank you' ever could.

She passed by her Junior Show sky-scape as she cut through the living room. She loved that it was owned by someone who saw it being made and who wanted to hang on to the memory of the making of it.

No, this wasn't what she pictured when she thought about being an artist when she grew up, but that dream was still very much alive. Just not in the way she had expected it to be.

It was better. She would never say this out loud, because it would completely nuke her cred, but it was all tangled up in love.

Even when she was doing work for hire, it was still about the people. She still went to the Macey's used bookstore where the steps she had painted enticed young readers up to a nook furnished with cushions and hidey-holes. And every time, Macey still gushed about how she had wanted a staircase like that in her bookstore ever since she saw one as a child, and now she had the store of her dreams, and wasn't it wonderful?

She was halfway through another commission, this one for a friend of Snowy's who needed a re-do on his mask after getting traded to the Aeros. Jukes was super-psyched about the retro-futurist space-themed design she was doing in the Aeros' silver and red, so psyched Lardo half-suspected that kid-Jukes would have said he wanted to be an astronaut when he grew up (possibly a hockey-playing astronaut—he was Canadian, after all).

Snowy had taken one look at the design and had declared that by the end of the season, Lardo would have a three year waiting list, and that if he weren't so superstitious about his current mask, he'd be next in line after Jukes.

Having another job (one that she loved) gave her the freedom to pick and choose the art she wanted to do the way she wanted to do it and for the people she wanted to do it for. One day, she might be able to do it full time and she really hoped she would get there.

The important thing was, she was an artist. It was an essential part of who she was and who she would be, just like Bitty didn't need to own a bakery to be a baker.

She flopped down on the bed in Jack's guest room (which was already halfway to being 'her' room). She was exhausted enough to want to nap, but too keyed up to do so.

So, she picked up her bedside sketch pad, flipped to a mostly empty page, and began doodling.

She started with a triceratops.

#omgcp #omgcheckplease #lardo duan #shitty x lardo #my fic

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stories-mostly · 5 years

Text

Stark's Bug

Tony Stark x Son!reader

Let's all collectively ignore that I forgot about the entire first 15 min of the 2nd Iron man movie as a late birthday gift to me. Thx.

Words: 1525 (what a pretty number to look at)

Warnings: Canon typical violence, other than that none

Chapter 15

You are watching Happy and your dad box in the ring as you stood beside it copying their movements and fighting an invisible villain. Lots of stuff had happened recently but now that your dad was back, there was no reason to dwell on the latest happenings. Because: You had your own superhero costume!

It had been a weekend project with your dad after he caught you playing with his helmet on. He came up with the idea and you with some rough drafts of the design, then you worked together to give it the finishing touches. Creating your superhero costume all within a 48 hour time span.

There was a helmet in Iron man style but purple and blue colors which looked similar to Captain Magic's colour scheme and it was taken off and put on like a motorcycle helmet. There were strong glasses in the holes for your eyes which Jarvis was built into. They could simulate enemy's. Make them look like they're really there, so you can fight them.

You had a long Cape with dark purple on the outside and a softer blue on the inside, which was attached to your shoulder plates. They were attached to your chest Armour that reached down to your waist line and was made of a thin, breathable, sturdy fabric. You also had super special gauntlets, and boots that reached your knees. You loved your look and went by the name of "Captain Storm", after Captain Magic of course.

His superpowers are controlling the wind, time travel, and super strength. Captain Storm also has a super secret super power only to use in dire situations. Nobody knew that he can use the force! But soon he'll be found out by his arch nemesis Madman!

You had your fun playing pretend as the door opened and Pepper walked in. She was real busy recently so you were excited to see her.

"Pepper!" You shout and run over into her arms.

"What? Who are you?" she gasped.

"Uh? I'm (y/-, I mean, I'm Captain Storm! I was protecting you of the evil lasers of Madman! You can only see them with my super special helmet! Thank me later!" You explained taking a superhero stance. You smiled up at her and went away to "fight" the evil Madman who was now targeting your family!

You didn't even realize there was a whole stranger in the room smiling at your antics.

As soon as your father left the ring the strange lady got in it and fought Happy while Tony and Pepper talked.

You watched in despair as she took down your uncle without a problem. How dare she? That was your uncle! And an ally of Captain Storm! She must be a villain! In truth you were very impressed though. Well (y/n) might've been impressed but Storm saw in her nothing but a potential threat! Maybe she was even a spy sent by Madman! He just couldn't trust her. Though he tried to copy her moves. They were really cool.

You snuck off into the side room and changes back into your "civilian clothes".

Walking back into the gym the woman and Happy were both out of the ring.

You wandered over and let yourself fall over your dad's lap.

"You're finally back, Bug." he said ruffling your hair after pulling you up into a sitting position. Instead of being sprawled over his legs like a lazy cat.

"What're you doing?" you asked both of them, as they seemed to be doing, well, things. You didn't really know what.

"Nothing big, just some paperwork." He paused handing back the papers to Pepper. "Bug, What do you think about going with Happy, Pepper and me to Monaco?" He asked after you faced him properly.

"A vacation?" you were confused, you had school. Also where IS Monaco? Your knowledge of European geography didnt go further than knowing a few names of countries and their estimated location.

"Yeah, more or less. I mean going to Monaco to attend the Grand prix? You know, Formula one? Cars racing each other." He made motions with his hands that were somehow related to race cars.

"Sure." You shrugged pulling up all the knowledge you possess about formula one. It wasn't a lot. You knew that your Stark industries was sponsoring or owned one of the teams and that they drove really weird and fast cars, but that was about it.

It was your first vacation in a long time so hopefully it would be fun.

Not long after your father had asked you whether or not you wanted to come you were in Monaco. More specifically in your hotel room.

You jumped around on the furniture in the large living room as your father was taking a shower. He had said to get ready but you could spare a bit of time for playing.

You let Captain Magic fly around the room after the Captain America figure Coulson had gifted you. Magic knew that Captain USA was an imposter since the real one is dead. So now she had to catch him and reveal his true identity. Though playtime was over as soon as the bedroom door opened and both Captains crashed into your father's chest.

You gasped, and then apologized while giggling.

"Your apology is accepted, now go get dressed you rascal." He said picking up both captains and shooing you back to the couch where your suit was waiting to be put on.

You were dressed in a few minutes, struggling a bit with the button up.

Your father tied your tie and voila you were all ready to go. Looking all fancy in your dress shirt and vest. A real charmer, as your dad put it.

You put on your sunglasses and left.

Arriving at the race track you were overwhelmed on how big it was. You couldn't even see it all together. They really had to drive a long way around Monaco. People cheered as your father got out of the car. He did his usual spiel, while you clamored at the track. You also gave a short wave to the people before you followed Pepper and your dad inside, Happy following behind you.

Inside you where slightly overwhelmed so you just stuck to your father's side. Natalie was also there doing stuff. You actually only found out her name on the flight here when you were back to playing pretend.

Somebody took a quick picture of the three of you while your dad didn't stop talking. You continued to follow him around like a lost puppy.

There was the Hammer guy that was also at your dads court hearing. You could feel that they hated each other. The four of you shortly sat down on a table before Natalie came and told Tony that the other table he wanted is ready.

Your dad stood up and Pepper took your hand having realized how lost you looked, leading you over. You sat down and fiddled with the middle button of your vest.

"Wheres Tony?" Pepper asked after you were both seated.

"On the Toilet." you said looking over to the TV where the preparations for the race were broadcasted.

"I think hes off the toilet now." you said as you saw your dad in full racing get up on the track.

"What? Oh my God." Pepper said and asked for Natalie to bring Happy.

Meanwhile you were ecstatic at the thought of your him racing.

The race began and you were basically bouncing in your seat. Not knowing whether your father was winning or not you still cheered him on internally.

You looked over at Pepper who still had a "I can't believe this" expression on her face.

Your attention was drawn a few minutes after the race had begun. There was a man on the track, just casually walking along. You knew something wasn't right even before he started to turn into a weird very villainy looking dude. You turned to Pepper only to see that she was gone. Now you were panicking. You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself but nothing was working. Natalie placed her hand on your back comfortingly. It didn't calm you down at all but grounded you a little. Your father was on the screen getting attacked by some random guy, without his suit, and your main support system was currently gone! You had a feeling that they weren't away to search for safety either.

Tears were building in your eyes as the situation grew more and more concerning.

All you could do was stay there helplessly watching as your father avoided being fried by mere millimeters. You started to grind your teeth together when you saw the car you had come with ram the man into the side barely avoiding your dad. You flinched and bit your lower lip roughly.

There were several heart stopping moments before your dad could finally suit up. You'd like to say that he'd won with ease but it looked like it took a lot of effort to defeat the man.

Ultimately the man was dragged off by officers and the damage was done. You were relived that it was over.

You held onto him tightly as soon as he was within reach.

There was nothing to like about seeing your dad be in immediate danger and fighting for his life. Again.

Tags: @shannonr2003 @art-estrange @nicholasbich @tater-thottie @tonystanktheirondad @gaylemonshark @emilaa2001 @kindahadeschild

Thank you for reading :)

#tony stark x child!reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x reader #tony stark #tony stark x male reader #tony stark x male!reader #tony stark x m!reader #male reader #male!reader #m!reader #marvel reader insert #child!reader #stark!reader #stark's bug #stark's bug chapter 15 #chapter 15

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