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hyunnieshannie · 1 year

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MIROH

Chapter One: Recruitment Day

WC: 2.1k

Pairing: OT8 x AFAB Reader

Series General Synopsis: Hundreds of men respected you, bowed down to you, and most importantly feared you. None other than the second in command, and in line to take over one of the most prolific gangs in all of South Korea, Miroh. You had it all, money, respect, and seven of the most loyal men by your side. So why do you feel the need to bring in one more? What’s so special about this so-called assassin, Chan?

General Warnings: Fluff if you squint, Strong Language, anything I missed please let me know!

→ A/N: This chapter is a bit shorter, it's just the introduction to Miroh. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy it <3 ~Kitty

PREVIOUS MASTER LIST NEXT

You were woken up by gentle hands shaking your leg through your comforter. You hum as you feel those hands beginning to massage your leg, letting out a grunt when you feel the hands squeeze around your leg. Oh great. It’s him.

“Y/n. You need to get ready”

“Go fuck yourself Bin. Let me sleep” you mumble from under the covers.

Changbin rolls his eyes and walks to your bed and unceremoniously pulls your covers off of you. “It wasn’t a request” he tuts as you just roll over face first into your pillow.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” you groan as Changbin pulls the pillows from your grasp. You sit up with a pout on your lips as Changbin looks at you with a smirk. Your hair is a messy mop atop your head and the t-shirt you wore to bed, that was about 3 sizes too big on you, was draping over your shoulder and the hem just about covering your bottom half. Bins eyes trail down to your legs as his smirk deepens. You roll your eyes and tug on the straps of his gun holster to drag him into bed with you and wrestle him beneath you. He lets you man-handle, more like woman-handle, him as you sit yourself on top of him, legs straddling his torso. He softly places his hands on your thighs, rubbing softly. You smirk down at him as you squeeze his cheeks to puff out his lips making you giggle.

“I asked you what was on the agenda, do I need to ask you again?” you taunted as you began to massage his chest with your free hand.

“Well” he starts as he pulls your hand away from his lips “I guess you forgot what day it was my dear. It’s your favorite day of the year.”

“That rhymed, what are you a rapper?” you teased as you stuck your tongue out at him.

Bin rolled his eyes “Y/N, it’s recruit day.” The smile that was previously on your lips disappeared immediately.

“Fucking christ. Seriously?!” you yelled as you climbed off of Bin and hopped off the bed, making your way to your ensuite. “I fucking hate recruitment day. Remind me again why we even have to do this”

Changbin watched you frantically bounce about your bathroom, still unmoved from when you were on top of him. He looks up at the ceiling and sighs “because the big man asked you to, and you need to find people who are loyal to you, not just loyal to you by association.”

You tumbled around your closet and bathroom in a rush to look presentable. “I don’t need more people, Bin. I already have a team that’s stupid loyal to me, do I really need more than you guys?”

Changbin had finally gotten up from the bed and leaned on the doorframe to your bathroom, watching you put your makeup on.

“I mean no, in my opinion you don't need anyone else. But in Big Boss's opinion, you need more people." He looks you up and down, “you might want to put some pants on, princess.” he smirks as he walks out of your room.

You look down to see that you were indeed still not wearing anything other than your underwear. You hastily finish your makeup and get fully dressed before you make your way to meet Bin and the rest of your team.

—--

“She’s on her way down,” Bin announced as he walked into the kitchen. Felix, Minho, and Seungmin were puttering about, making breakfast and coffee while Hyunjin, Han, and Jeongin were reading over documents or scrolling through their phones.

“She sure as hell took her time this morning. It’s a good thing Big Boss isn’t here, he would've been pissed if he knew she was still asleep.” Minho mumbled as he put together your breakfast.

“Well, she was pretty tired last night when I left.” Han spoke as he finally looked up from his documents. “I left pretty late too, probably around 2:30? She could not fall asleep no matter how hard I tried” he shrugged.

“That doesn’t excuse the fact that she had to be up early today. Our new recruits are still waiting to be tested,” Seungmin said as he placed Han’s coffee in front of his face. Han’s eyes went wide as he smirked up at Seungmin and blew him a kiss as a thanks, prompting Seungmin to roll his eyes and slap the olders shoulder.

“I mean, she is going to be the new boss, so she can kind of do whatever she wants, right?” Jeongin questioned from his seat next to Hyunjin.

“She’s going to be the boss, she isn't the boss quite yet, so no excuses” Changbin said as he moved in next to Minho to try and steal a piece of bacon he was preparing.

“I still get to do what I want Bin, that’s the perks of being a gang princess,” you announced as you walked into the kitchen. All of the boys stopped what they were doing to give you their attention, all eyes on you, just how you liked it. Felix was the first to walk up to you and greet you with a warm hug and a kiss to your temple.

“Good morning our queen, hungry?” Felix teased as he fixed a piece of your hair. You nodded and greeted the other boys. Hyunjin had gotten up from his seat so you could have a place to sit and eat, one that wasn't obstructed by piles of paper that Han and Jeongin had been going through.

As if they read your mind, Jeongin began to fill you in, “it’s the applications for the newest recruits. We got a lot this time around, which is quite surprising. Some are recommendations from our allies, so we might want to be cautious about picking any of them since we cant be 100% certain of where their allegiance lies.” You thumbed through a couple of files as you were chomping down on breakfast.

“Hm, there are a lot. Are they all waiting?” you asked no one in particular.

“Yes, Miss y/n. They’ve been waiting for about an hour.” Seungmin spoke above his mug of coffee.

You smiled at him, causing him to cock his head to the side in confusion.

“It’s better to keep them waiting. I bet by the time we get in there half of these people are gone. I have a low tolerance for people who are impatient.” you spoke, taking a bite of your bacon and feeding the other half to Jeongin, who then licked the remaining grease from your fingers before kissing your hand and going back to his files.

You graciously made your way over to the coffee pot Seungmin was positioned in front of. He smiled at you warmly and reached behind him to hand you your favorite mug with your coffee already in it. You kissed his cheek as you took the mug.

“So, shall we head down then?” you turned to the rest of the boys and motioned to the doorway.

“After you, ma’lady” Hyunjin said as he reached his hand out to take yours. You smirked at him and took his hand as he led you down to the meeting room.

—--

“You will all go through a series of tests. These tests are designed to assess your abilities in all different areas. Those who applied for our technician positions will follow Felix, Jeongin, and Seungmin to our lab - they will give you instructions on your tests when you’re there. The rest of you will be testing with myself, Han, Hyunjin, Minho, and of course Miss y/n. She will be overseeing all of your tests and will be determining who will make it to the next rounds. Please gather your things and follow us.” Changbin commanded from the front of the room. You stood next to him as prim, proper, and intimidating as you always have. You were dressed in black trousers, black patent leather high heels, white blouse beneath a black corset, adorned with your iconic black leather jacket that was coincidentally gifted to you from Changbin on your birthday. Top the whole look off with silver and gold jewelry that was dripping in diamonds - gifts from the Big Boss. In all honesty, you were hot. Piping hot. And you wanted these men to quiver in fear… and arousal - that always made things more fun.

As you were making your way to the testing rooms, the front door of the building, large oak doors, swung open to reveal a man, looking quite lost. You stopped in your tracks and before one of your boys could make a move, you made your way over to the stranger, much to Changbin’s displeasure.

“Excuse me, are you lost?” you asked the man. He was quite pretty, you thought. White hair, an undercut, dressed in a white button up and black pants, with a leather jacket slung over his shoulders. His shirt was incredibly form fitting, his chest making the middle buttons pop a bit. You had to fight with your own eyes to not oogle at his chest and keep eye contact with this beautiful stranger.

He looked at you and his eyes went wide. He shamelessly looked you up and down before he shook his head and focused back on your eyes. “Uh, no I don’t think so. This is the Haven, correct? I’m here for the open recruitment.” He spoke as he handed you a piece of paper. It seemed to be a newspaper clipping as you investigated it further. You looked over your shoulder to Seungmin who was watching the interaction from down the hall.

“Really? A newspaper ad? What are we in the 1940’s?” you asked as you waved the clipping at Seungmin who just shrugged.

“What? It worked didn’t it?” he smiled as he continued down the hall after Felix, Jeongin, and the remainder of the tech recruits.

You turned your attention back to the stranger. This time you allowed yourself to really look him over, shamelessly of course. He seemed built, strong legs from the looks of his thighs basically popping the seams of his trousers and judging from the width of his shoulders the man had to be stupidly strong. You cocked your head to the side with a smirk on your face, finally looking at his face again, noticing the scars on his neck, forehead, and cheek.

“What’s your name, cowboy?” you asked.

“Uh, Chan. My name’s Chan.” He said as he slightly bowed to you.

“Well, Chan. What are your qualifications? Why should you be allowed to join the rest of the recruits?” you walked closer to him and put your finger on the middle of his chest, “What makes you so special, hm? To show up here late? Why should I give you a chance?” you poke his chest at every question.

He grabbed at your hand firmly, applying enough pressure to get you to stop but not enough to hurt you. You heard movement behind you, most likely Hyunjin getting angry that a stranger touched you. “Why don’t I show you what I can do? Isn’t it better to see it in action than take my word for it?” He questioned, his breath fanning over your fingers and onto your face. “I can show you how skilled I am, prove to your boss that I’m good enough to be on their team.”

You huffed out a laugh as you gently pulled your hand from his, already missing the warmth. “I’m pretty sure you’ve already made quite the impression on the boss.” you laugh as you walk back towards yours boys and the recruits, motioning for Chan to follow you.

He quirks his head, “What makes you say that?” he says as he makes his way to the other recruits, Hyunjin staring daggers into him. You say nothing as you walk with Bin to the testing rooms. Chan still looks confused and eyes at Hyunjin and Han.

Han smirks and shakes his head as he begins walking backward, still maintaining eye contact with Chan “She is the boss” he laughs as he drags Hyunjin away with him, the two of them laughing as they follow behind you, leaving Chan gobsmacked as he falls to the back of the mob of recruits. He shakes his head and follows the crowd after you.

Tags @chanlixiiee @channiesbub @jaebaebaegot7 @maeleelee @iadorethemskz @maenijw @hangin-out-with-the-street-rats @sinforsuccubus ♡Thank you for letting me tag you♡

#stray kids #skz fluff #skz #bang chan x y/n #lee know x y/n #changbin x y/n #hyunjin x y/n #han jisung x y/n #lee felix x y/n #seungmin x y/n #yang jeongin x y/n #stray kids smut #skz smut #ot8 x reader #stray kids ot8 #mafia au #masterlist #stray kids hard hours

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theearlgreymage · 21 days

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An Ask Game for Writers to Procrastinate Working on Your WIP(s)

Soooo -- The lovely @ic3-que3n decided to tag me in this little game. Because they know I am eternally procrastinating on all my WIPS.

(Original Ask Game)

1. 🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s):

Vogue in Paradis (And I will be using this specific WIP for all remaining questions)

2. 🍄Describe your WIP/one of your WIP(s) in the format of “___ + ___ =___”

Fashion Designer Erwin + Makeup Designer Levi = Rivals to Lovers Office Romance

3. 🌍What tags or warnings will your / one of your WIP(s) need if you intend to share it?

Guys. Come on. This is ME we're talking about - they are going to fuck. Explicitly.

4. 🧭An alternative title to your/ one of your WIP(s)?

This one was originally unnamed when the premise for it was created. I started this a while ago, and then set it on the back burner, but then Lewi dropped this amazing art and it sparked that flame of motivation to continue it -- and gave it a Title.

5. ⚠️Which WIP your most likely to finish or update next?

Either May Their Blood Boil will get an update OR I will finish Vogue in Paradis

6. 💾What is your document of your WIP/ a WIP called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

Despite how meticulously I keep my Google Drive organized, there is absolutely no rhyme or reason to my Docs Names. Most of the time it is just an extremely vague phrase. But I do keep my Docs ORGANIZED. Each fandom has it's own folder, and within that there are folders for oneshots, series, ideas, and @ic3-que3n (yes - they have a whole ass folder because they put that many ideas in my fucking head.)

7. 🖍Post Any sentence(s) from your WIP.

“Smith.” At the mere mention of Erwin’s name, Hange starts laughing. “Stop that,” I sneer at them as I lean back in my chair and cross my arms defensively. Already anticipating where this is going to go – which is why I didn’t want to say anything to them in the first place. “Stop being in denial then,” Hange wheezes out between fits of laughter. “I’m not in denial!” We’ve had this argument before – anytime I bring up Erwin, Hange insists that I have a crush on him. Which I do not. “Keep telling yourself that,” Hange drawls as they wipe a tear of laughter away from their lash line. “We’re not having this discussion.” “And you’re still not getting laid.” “Hange.” I practically snarl at them. It doesn’t perturb them in the slightest. “Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m wrong,” and I’m about to answer their demand but then they keep going. “Tell me you don’t think he’s a whole ass meal. That you haven’t thought about what he’s hiding under those bland Oxford shirts and wool pants.” “I don’t –” “Or that you don’t think he’s infuriatingly good at his job.” “That has nothing –” “Or that you can’t seem to keep your eyes and ears off of him in joint meetings.” “Well that’s only –” “Or that it’s a damn shame no one has been able to take him off the market.” The silence that falls over us is uncomfortably tense. And I can’t decide if I want to crawl beneath my desk at the sudden, horrifying, realization that I can’t deny a word they just said – or leap across the table and strangle them for making me realize I can’t. “That’s what I thought,” they chime triumphantly as they lean back on their hands. Pushing a pencil cup out of its place. “Get. Out.” I snip between clenched teeth. My hands balled up in fists in the crooks of my elbows to keep from lashing out at this idiot I call my best friend.

8. ♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP.

Hmm. No. I'm holding this information incase I un-scrap the idea.

9. 🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

I have a WILD backwards-reincarnation plot cooking in my head right now. I'm going to make the CANON the reincarnation and write a whole pre-canon/part reincarnation for my blorbos. And I am ITCHING to write it like it's no ones fucking business, but I'm determined to get some other projects off my plate first so that I can give it the attention that it rightfully deserves.

10. 🤡How many WIPS are you actively working on?

Hahahahaha...ha...ha... Well. You see...That's not an easy answer. Because I am not good at math and cannot count that high... But. In the last 30 days...Going off of WIPs that I've typed at least 500 words on... 11...

11. 🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

Yes 😎

12. ❤️Not a question, just a second Kudos to send.

Bless. You're too sweet my love ❤️

And now so I can spread the procrastination, I’m tagging...

@artsyunderstudy @shrekgogurt @buffy @j-nipper-95 @aristocratic-otter @cutestkilla @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @hushed-chorus @martsonmars @skeedelvee @thewholelemon @wellbelesbian @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @palimpsessed

#ask game #tag game #WIP #Current WIP #Writing #Fanfic #ask me anything #procrastination #AOT #Eruri #SNK #levi ackerman #erwin smith

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mickgaydolenz · 1 year

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so I wanted to find a dream for you from when I had just got into the Monkees because when I become obsessed with something I always dream about it at first so here is a Monkeemare

I was in my room messing around with a needle and thread, and by messing around I mean just sewing random buttons to the knees of my pants, (just so you know this was before I shaved my head so I have long hair and bangs bleh) and I ran my fingers through my hair and ruffled my bangs because that was the only way I knew how to style it. then I heard somebody knock my door really gently and I said they could come in and Davy walked in all awkwardly and sat next to me on the floor and kept trying to grab my hand, to like, hold? but at this point in time I was a pansexual in denial and only thought I was a lesbian so I just kept casually moving my hand away from him (also I just don't generally find him very attractive) but he got a hold of my hand and...just..fkcing held it. I couldn't sew buttons to my pants. then he asked me why I kept ruining my pants and began ripping the buttons off and stuffing them in my pocket and told me it was time to go and I couldn't go out dressed like that anyways. so here we are in a car. I was driving for some reason. and he turned that radio on and it was the news talking about a shortage in overalls? I'm pretty sure they were talking about overalls or something like that. but Davy looked really worried and anxious about it so he turned it off. then he turned to me and said "its right crazy, it is. I think I might have to sell me house." and I just nodded, I wasn't even looking at him. then we got to this hotel and Davy ushered me in to a room and wrapped his arm around my waist but he's so short and I'm very tall (5'9 versus 5'3) so his arm was dropped over my ass and in the hotel room was Peter who was reading with some very big glasses on, but he only greeted Davy and gave me an awkward nod and went back to reading. then Davy pulled me to sit with him and he asked where Mike was and Peter said "Mike? Mike-ity Mike Mike. Mic. Microphone." then went back to reading. wtf. wtf. wtf. I didn't know what to do. I was sitting awkwardly while Davy was basically groping me and Peter rhymed. then someone knocked on the door but right after they knocked they came right in and it was a cleaning lady but she was in one of those short ones? you know the ones I'm talking about right? kinda skanky and they'd never actually wear that as a cleaning lady? and she giggled and skipped over to me and fcking KISSED ME?? now Dream Raya must be one serious lady killer because seriously I get so much attention from chicks in my dreams, but anywho, she kissed me(😏) and dusted a lamp and left. then Davy winked at me (I don't know if it was because this was pervert dream davy or because I just made out with a beautiful lady so interpret that as you will) and then Mike came out of the bathroom holding his hat and greeted davy but didn't acknowledge me :/ the both of them ignored me for what? then Peter clapped his book shut and tossed it on the bed and asked us if we were hungry, then he ordered something from room service and (finally) Mike started talking to me and acknowledging my existence, and started telling me about his new girlfriend who was a cleaning lady here. now obviously I knew what this meant, so I didn't tell him his girlfriend just came in here and made out with me. but, Davy had other plans. he sat up and began laughing and said "she made out with ye girl!!" and Mike stood up too, looking at me like he was gonna kill me, and I'm sure he would have. so I ran away, he chased me, I ran down the street, he kept yelling from behind me that he was, and I quote, "GONNA BEAT MY FUCKIN ASS WHEN HE CAUGHT ME" and his long nimble legs were a match for my unathletic-ness, and he caught up to me. grabbed me by my shoulders and fell to the ground with me. then began (weakly like it was so fcking funny how poorly he was hitting me it didn't even hurt) hitting me, but I pushed him away and kept running, all the while apologizing for kissing his girlfriend, then a car drove past me and offered me a ride. guess who it was. Mr. Babbit. this dream...yeah. yeah.

BROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

ahahagahahahaahhahaagha fucking WOW!!!! okay, fuck, all of that was incredible but i fucking LOVE the conclusion of you running away from CHAPSTICK because you fucking MADE OUT WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND!!!!!

#raya’s dreams :)#dude. buddy. pal. what an incredible dream #the monkees #rhubarb asks

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rebelbrat · 1 year

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Tobias being Tobias, the running of his shop wasn’t without a little…mischief. See, he got really sick and fucking tired of people ripping off all THREE of his cultures and trying to take from them without permission, whether it was humans being racist, humans being speciesist, or aliens looking at his Navajo and Jewish cultures and being like “oooooh look at the primitive pre-spacefaring cultures, how quaint~” There was one thing that all these people wanted from him: cool cultural magic. So, he decided to…teach them a lesson.

One day he decided to release these “Kabbalistic seals and sigils” alongside Galran “Antimagic seals and sigils” that were open for use to anyone who wanted to download them. Basically the “Kabbalistic” seals were a bunch of nonsense Hebrew that he said meant all sorts of mystical bullcrap when really the Hebrew on it said stuff like “hemorrhoids” and “diarrhea.” The antimagic seals were the same except all the nonsense words were written in the Fulsa language and said to be used in Fulsa sacred practices, but they had the added appeal in the promise that magic users would be able to use antimagic (a form of magic that’s the opposite of regular magic which was previously thought unusable by beings without antimagical heritage). Tobias had been famously defensive about people being able to use things from his cultures in the past especially to “look cool,” so people were shocked to see him now so openly sharing…But, as eager appropriators were to find out, there was a catch. A big catch.

There was a rhyme and reason to all the “nonsense” words that Tobias chose to put on the magical items: They were all about bad luck and health ailments. By using those items in their spellwork, people would bring those things on themselves--everything from money problems to, well, hemorrhoids and diarrhea. There was even a seal that said “the slipperies” on it which caused a flood (pardon the pun) of inexplicable slipperies outbreaks among 20- and 30-somethings. And when people got pissed at him for causing this to happen, some even slapping him with a lawsuit? He just looked at them and said, “That’s what you get for trying to take what isn’t yours.”

Of course, no hex comes without its backlash…both magical and mundane. Speaking of lawsuits, Tobias had an entire class action lawsuit filed against him by disgruntled mages from multiple species who were suing him for misrepresentation of product. He managed to win because the products he had ~misrepresented~ were free. Even though they were being distributed specifically as products of his not-free shop, which is what the plaintiffs tried to argue against him, the court ruled that “buyer/taker beware” laws firmly and without exception placed the burden on takers to examine the quality of free products before consuming them. (I don’t know if this is a thing in actual law but these are space laws so I can make the rules.) Seeking some sort of “justice” (well, more like they were pissed because they got caught with their pants down trying to appropriate sacred Fulsan traditions and Kabbalah), the class action plaintiffs all got together, drew up a GIANT hexing circle, and returned Tobias’ hexes to him THREEFOLD.

Tobias’ Galran antimagic (which coexists with his human magic) protected him from the worst of it. Even so, for the next fifty years, he was plagued. Constant chronic health problems coming at him left and right--all of the things he’d written on those seals reflected back at him, from the diarrhea to the hemorrhoids to, yes, the slipperies, which he somehow got even though he’s not Altean. He tried to appeal to his mom for help, for surely she would be able to redirect and neutralize these negative consequences, but she told him he was on his own because it was his responsibility for being overconfident in his protections against the possible wrath of the people he hexed. (“Really, it’s elementary school shit,” she told him. “You have no one to blame for this but yourself, and thus no one to save you but yourself as well.”) The backlash lasted for such a long time and caused so much trouble in his life that even now, any time he has some sort of gastrointestinal health problem, he gets the paranoid thought that it’s his reflected hex again, still causing trouble even after all these years. The moral of the story, at least according to Tobias? If you want to pull something like this, you better run EXTRA fast to avoid your punishment. >:3333333

#the calm and the chaos. || HEADCANON

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pillage-and-lute · 3 years

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Prompt: Either out of embarrassment or being a little shit, Jaskier lies outrageously to Geralt about humans (on the level of “I’m molting” or “These? They’re rocks, to snack on.”) and might get away with it?

Hi Dahliavandare! I always love seeing you in my inbox. I changed this just a *teeny* bit. WARNING: VERY SLIGHTLY HORNY (it’s Jaskier, duh) There is also a little bit of angst because Jaskier gets sick.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled.

“What?” The young bard yelped. “I wasn’t even singing that time.”

“No, you just--hmmm.”

“I just hmmm what?” Jaskier asked, pausing in his near-constant strumming.

“You smell like...hmm.”

“I smell?” Jaskier said, both hands planted on his hips. “That’s pretty rich coming from you, my friend--”

“Not friends.”

“You smell like a barn. Anyway-”

“No, Jaskier,” Geralt said, running one, gloved hand through his hair. “Witchers can sort of smell emotions, right?”

Jaskier looked up at him, a sudden hint of anxiety in his scent. “I thought that was a myth.”

“Not entirely.” Geralt shook his head as if clearing a thought from it. “We can’t smell complex things, but joy, fear, anger...desire.”

Jaskier, for once, didn’t look at Geralt, studying instead the flowers at the side of the road. “Desire?”

“I-yes.” Geralt said. “And I wanted to know if all humans smell like...”

“Desire?” Jaskier said, then began talking fast. “Oh yes, of course, most humans, especially my age, well, they smell like this all the time. All the time. Naturally.”

It sort of checked out, at least to Geralt’s thinking. Young humans were horny, and although the overriding scent when Geralt was around was fear, he remembered being a teenager, with all the baggage that entailed at Kaer Morhen, and yes, constantly horny was among those memories. Jaskier himself was definitely still young by human standards, perhaps twenty or so from his youthful features.

Geralt chalked the horniness up to humanity and hormones and left it at that.

---

Later on, Geralt had other questions related to humanity, more specifically that part of humanity that included Jaskier.

“I thought humans couldn’t eat those?” Geralt couldn’t, he’d eaten one during training on a dare and spent the next day with his head in the privy.

Jaskier looked down at the mushroom in his hand. It was a beautiful, bright red, with little white spots. He’d been snacking on similar ones for the last mile or so.

“Of course we can,” he said. “Humans eat these all the time.” There was a rising tone in his voice that indicated something, but as Geralt had mentioned before, witchers couldn’t actually smell the more complicated emotions.

“They, um,” Jaskier said. “They just can’t be eaten by humans during-er- during summer. It’s fall now, so it’s okay.”

Geralt shrugged. What did he know of human biology? He wouldn’t be eating another of them ever, at any time. His stomach lurched a little just at the thought.

---

“You didn’t buy the ring.”

Jaskier looked up at Geralt, eyes bright in the sunshine. The bustle of the market around them pushed against him like a tide, but a little patch of space was left around Geralt. Jaskier stepped into the space. “The ring?”

“You liked it,” Geralt grunted. “I could tell.” It had been a little thing, cheaply made of poor materials, but the bard’s eyes had lit up upon seeing the little buttercup detailing, and he’d admired for several minutes, although without touching.

Jaskier shrugged. “It was made of iron.”

“And?”

“Human’s can’t wear iron, Geralt.”

“Then why did the man sell it?”

“Well some humans can wear it of course, those with very tough skin, but I’m delicate.” Jaskier sniffed.

“Humans...can’t wear iron?” It didn’t sound right.

“Not right up close to their skin,” Jaskier said. “It turns us, um, purple.”

Geralt shrugged it off. He’d once been called to a castle where a baron had believed himself cursed because his finger was turning green, but he’d simply been wearing a cheap brass ring.

---

After the first winter they met again in the spring something was definitely different.

“Your freckles,” Geralt said.

“What about them?” Jaskier said, looking away.

What about them indeed. They glimmered like chips of mica. At first Geralt had thought it a trick of the light, but no, there was a definite glitter to Jaskier’s skin.

“They’re...shining?”

Jaskier cocked his head at Geralt, cheeks shimmering. “Geralt,” he said slowly. “You know humans shimmer in the spring...right?”

Shimmer?

“I’d never noticed,” Geralt said. Admittedly he paid a little more attention to Jaskier than perhaps he ought, but still, one would think he’d have seen this before.

“It’s part of the growing process,” Jaskier said.

---

“Jaskier, your cheeks are red,” Geralt said, stepping out of the small bathtub the inkeeper had brought up. He stepped closer to the bard, still naked and dripping water, and pressed the back of his hand to Jaskier’s forehead.

“Nnhgh,” Jaskier said.

“Are you well?” Geralt asked, cupping Jaskier’s flushed face with his other hand. It didn’t feel like he had a fever.

Jaskier pushed his hands away, face even redder than before.

“I’m perfectly fine, Geralt,” he said, higher pitched than usual. “Human faces get red for no reason now...put on some pants.”

---

“Jaskier you’re drunk,” Geralt said. It was a pretty obvious statement, considering he had his bard draped over him like a shawl.

“Hehe, yep,” Jaskier said, reaching up with one, long finger and tracing Geralt’s jawline with it.

“You didn’t have any alcohol, I’m sure of it.” Jaskier normally had an extremely high alcohol tolerance in any case.

“‘O course not,” Jaskier said, leaning even more fully into Geralt’s hold. “Had milk.”

“Milk can’t get people drunk.”

“Milk can’t get witchers drunk,” Jaskier slurred. “Get’s humans drunk though, dunnit?”

“Can it?”

“Yeah, definitely, not the kids, but like, how often do you see, like adult humans drinkin’ milk?”

Not often, Geralt thought. He put Jaskier to bed in the inn and it was like pouring an octopus into a bucket. One loose yet gripping arm pulled Geralt closer to Jaskier, the bard leaned in and brushed soft lips to Geralt’s cheekbone.

Geralt wondered if it was another mystery of humans that the spot seemed to tingle all night and he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it.

---

Geralt clutched Jaskier as the bard fell to his knees, groaning. His face was sickly in it’s palor and he was trembling. He’d just lurched up from the table at the inn and stumbled to the door. Geralt had followed him and the young bard had just collapsed like this.

“Jaskier,” he said, clutching a chilled cheek, his other hand seeking one of Jaskier’s. “Jaskier what’s wrong.”

“Lemon,” Jaskier whispered, lacing shaking finger’s with Geralt’s. “In the fish, there was lemon.”

“Lemon’s fine, isn’t it?” Geralt asked, slow heart racing as he looked into eyes that were becoming glassy and clouded.

Jaskier shook his head and it seemed to exhaust him.

“’S fine for humans.” He said. “Not fae.”

“Fae,” Geralt said, cradling his friend. “Jaskier you’re not making sense.”

“Mmh,” Jaskier said, smiling sadly. His face changed, his eyes going glow bright and his ears lengthening a little. His skin took on a slightly green tint.

Geralt looked into the face of his fae bard, rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone and the shimmering freckles there. “How do I heal you, you have to tell me.”

Jaskier blinked slowly, eyes dimming further.

Geralt shook him, desperation taking over.

“Jaskier what heals a fairy?”

What heals a fairy? He’d learned that at some point hadn’t he? Long ago. They were rare, and most witchers never saw one in their whole lives but if you could help one they’d grant you one wish, not tricks.

Poetry.

Fuck.

“Jaskier,” Geralt rasped, throat feeling dry. Those beautiful eyes blinked at him, slowly.

“I...I think you have pretty eyes,” Geralt said. “And I like when they, um, match the skies.”

Jaskier blinked at him in confusion, brow wrinkling slightly.

“You look pretty in blue,” Geralt managed, inventing wildly. “And look pretty in green. You look lovely in about every shade in between.”

Some of the deathly palor was fading from Jaskier’s face now and Geralt sought more words. “I thought you were pretty that day you wore purple,” he said. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, idiot he was an idiot, nothing rhymes with purple.

“I like your spirit, your moxy, your...your yurple.”

Jaskier was indeed looking better now, and he was smiling.

“I like the way you talk to me, and how you’re always there,” Geralt whispered. “I like the way you hum to me when you help me brush my hair.”

Jaskier sat up slowly, blinking in the dim light.

“I like the way you give treats to Roach, um, and I like the way you smile,” Geralt gulped at the look on Jaskier’s face. “But most of all I like how much I love you, so I want you to promise to, uh, stay? For a while?”

“Oh Geralt,” Jaskier said, cupping his cheek. “That was bad.” Then he kissed him and Geralt’s brain went very very fuzzy.

A little later, in their room in the inn, where Geralt was finishing the fish and Jaskier was having stew avec no-lemon-at-all, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jaskier tilted his head thoughtfully as he chewed a piece of potato. “Well, at first I wasn’t sure how you’d take it,” he said.

Geralt nodded. Fae were a feared and reverred group amongst humans, so caution was reasonable.

“Then it became a sort of game,” Jaskier said shrugging. “I couldn’t resist. So I left you little hints. I thought you’d figure it out for sure with the freckles or the milk.”

Geralt huffed a little sheepishly.

“I don’t care that you’re fae,” he said after a moment.

“I know,” Jaskier said. “And I don’t care that you’re an awful poet.”

“It worked, didn’t it.”

“It did, and now you get a wish, no tricks,” Jaskier held up his hand as if taking an oath. “I promise.”

Geralt thought for a moment. A wish from a fae was no small thing. It should be something powerful, something earth shattering and precious and rare.

“I wish you would kiss me again.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Oop, here it is (after quite the wait, sorry about that) I’m actually so proud of this and it’s super sweet and fluffy.

#geraskier #fluff #creature Jaskier #fae jaskier #Roach borrowed the braincell and she isn't giving it back #the witcher #geralt of rivia

1K notes · View notes

grapesodatozier · 3 years

Text

so close to the real thing (closer than you think)

rating: explicit

word count: 6.8k

summary: Eddie's been pining over Richie for as long as he can remember. He loves everything about Richie; especially how much Richie loves touching him. It's a little inconvenient, though. Eddie copes with his pent up sexual tension by constantly checking a porn blog he's obsessed with on tumblr. This guy has the same type of body as Richie, he talks like Richie, his name is even Richie! It makes it all too easy for Eddie to pretend it really is Richie while getting himself off to all of the blog's content.

You'll never guess what he finds out when he starts sexting this stranger named Richie from his anonymous porn blog.

tags: friends to lovers, porn with feelings, love confessions, dom/sub dynamics, bi dom top richie, gay sub bottom eddie, the most oblivious pining idiots in the world lol we love them

notes: this is one of my more ridiculous ideas but I had so much fun with it lol. also as a note you probably should not approach people on the internet the way they do in this fic, but they're just v enthusiastic and everything here is v consensual!! still tho definitely don't take this indulgent fic as a guide on how to approach real people online lmao. okay have fun!!

read on ao3 or below!!

notsfw under the cut

Eddie Kaspbrak’s friends were his entire world; time spent with them meant everything to him. But he also really valued his alone time. He’d always been the sort who needed time to just sit on a grassy hill and watch the trains go by, to catch up on comics in his room, to get lost in Netflix shows or even just his thoughts as he moseyed around his apartment—one he live in by himself, for when these moods hit. He needed time to himself to unwind. And sometimes he unwound by scrolling through some porn blogs on tumblr with his hand in his pants.

There was one blog that he was particularly fond of. There were other blogs more catered to his personal interests, namely blogs that didn’t feature women like this one did. But there was a good balance of genders represented, so Eddie figured he could just scroll past those posts. This guy was worth it. His pictures were ridiculously hot, and his dirty talk was even hotter.

Also, his name was Richie. Which Eddie refused to acknowledge as part of the draw.

It was harder to ignore tonight. He’d been out with the losers, and Richie had just been so touchy. And there was something about the way he'd been talking; his voice was lower than normal, slower in a way that made Eddie’s stomach flip. And his touches had lingered, his hand squeezing Eddie’s hip slow, then lazily brushing against his ass as he dropped it. Eddie could hardly take it. He brushed it off as Richie just being tired from work, but god, Eddie wanted it to mean more. The hardest part was hiding how much he wanted Richie to keep doing it.

There were so many things Eddie wanted Richie to do to him. He wanted Richie to touch him harder, to grab him by his hips with both hands. Richie’s hands were so big; Eddie just knew Richie could manhandle him so easily, so roughly. He wanted to know what it would feel like to have Richie’s hands all over him, grabbing at his ass and his thighs, holding his wrists down, making him feel so small. While Eddie would never admit it, huffing at every short joke Richie made, but he loved being shorter than Richie. He loved how safe he felt when Richie held him. And he was dying to know how small he would feel with Richie looming above him, or sitting in Richie’s lap, bouncing on his cock. He wanted to hear Richie talking to him in that low, slow voice, with that condescension Eddie did his best to pretend not to be affected by. He wanted Richie to whisper in his ear and call him all those pretty names he always dropped so casually, all those sweet ones and also ones that were a lot meaner. He wanted Richie to want him.

But it was easier to think about it than to ask for it. He knew Richie had way more experience than him. Well, okay, maybe not way more necessarily, but they were starting their third year of college, and he hadn’t wasted any time. Eddie, on the other hand, hadn’t done anything more than hand stuff with someone else. The guys he’d hooked up with were nice enough, and hot enough, but they just… weren’t Richie.

He supposed this guy on tumblr wasn’t Richie either, but at least he was everything else Eddie wanted. None of his hookups had been so, well, dominant, and that was this guy’s whole thing. He was dominant and a top and into guys that looked like Eddie. He even kind of talked like Richie, and he was apparently pining over his best friend, just like Eddie was. It had him completely smitten. Plus, internet-Richie’s crush had brown eyes like Eddie, and he ran track, just like Eddie did. Internet-Richie had posted once about his dick getting hard watching his friend at his track meet, and Eddie had come so hard that night, his track shorts around his ankles, imagining his Richie thinking those things about him.

Eddie was in bed now, in nothing but his boxers and one of Richie’s old shirts that had been Eddie’s for a while now. Still reeling from the way Richie had been acting that night, he logged into his porn account on his phone and scrolled through his dash for a grand total of thirty seconds before going immediately to internet-Richie’s blog. A thrill went through Eddie’s body when he saw that he had just posted. He’d written, “god my friends gonna fuckn kill me with that ass, i wanna plow him so bad” then reblogged it and added, “reminder that my asks and dms are always open if any pretty needy little subs need help getting off. please come be sluts in my messages.” Eddie’s breath caught in his throat when he saw that there was a picture, too, one of him gripping his hard cock, his boxers pulled down just enough for Eddie to see the dark hair around the base of his cock. Eddie moaned at the sight. His cock was so nice, so long and thick and pink. And fuck, his fingers. They were so long and slim, almost as nice as his-Richie’s.

Eddie scrolled a little farther down, his heart racing. There were a lot of reblogs, but some original posts here and there, things like, “what i wouldn’t do to have a pretty guy drooling all over my cock rn,” and, “in the mood to get someone dick drunk. wanna fuck a someone so hard they forget their own name.” One that made Eddie nearly choke said, “want someone i can pump my come into whenever i want, over and over again. want a sub i can keep full of my come all the fuckn time.” That post had Eddie getting out his lube.

It also had him thinking about internet-Richie’s most recent post, his post about his DMs being open.

Eddie bit his lip and thought about it. He’d sent internet-Richie some asks before from his porn blog (his blog didn’t have his name on it, just the teddy bear emoji, since he privately thought the teddy/Eddie rhyme was fun and clever, and also it was cute), and he’d seemed plenty happy enough to respond then. Still, it felt like a much bigger step to DM him, to talk to him just one on one. But the more he read his posts, the more he thought about his-Richie and how he’d touched Eddie that night, the easier it was to convince himself to shoot his shot with this stranger.

Eddie just messaged him a simple, “hi,” with a heart emoji. It was innocent enough, but his heart was still racing.

Internet-Richie responded a lot faster than Eddie was expecting. Honestly he hadn’t been expecting a response at all. But he said:

hiya cutie (; ive been hoping youd message me

Eddie flushed. He couldn’t help but hear cutie in his-Richie’s voice—especially given how often Richie used the nickname. really? he typed back.

fuck yes, ur cute little messages make me so hard. i can tell ur a pretty little thing just from the way you type

Eddie was blushing deep. Pretty little thing. That was hotter than it should’ve been. He wanted his Richie to talk to him like that, in that deep, sleepy voice.

there’s no way you can tell that from some messages :P, Eddie sent.

His heart stopped at the next messages internet-Richie sent.

oh, u dont think so?

why dont u send me some pics to prove me wrong (;

Oh my god, Eddie thought, his breath coming short. His head swam at the thought of sending this guy nudes, of showing himself off to someone who clearly wanted to see him, who would know how to take care of him and fuck him the way he liked, a guy with his crush’s fucking name and body type and hands. It had Eddie’s cock hard and leaking, and he slowly slid a finger inside of himself.

But just because the thought turned him on didn’t mean he was gonna send this stranger what he wanted so easily, even if he desperately wanted to.

you’d like that, wouldn’t you?

He fingered himself open as he waited for a response, working his way up to two fingers. It was nearly impossible to ignore his cock, but he didn’t want to come before the conversation even had a chance to start.

fuck ya i would, internet-Richie responded. Then, in a second message, whats wrong baby? you shy? ill show u mine ;)

Eddie's breath caught. God, this guy even made stupid shit sound hot, just like Eddie’s Richie. This was unreal.

i’ve seen yours, Eddie pointed out.

ya and you musta liked it if ur messaging me rn

Eddie bit his lip. ...maybe

aw thats cute sweetheart. u know i can see all the needy little tags you add when u reblog my stuff right?

Eddie blushed. He’d kind of always hoped he’d read them, but he never thought he actually did. i didn’t know you read those

oh ya, read them, jerk off to them. bit of a size queen, aren’t you? ;) it’s cute. makes me so fuckn hard when u talk abt how u want me to fill you up

Eddie whimpered out loud, sliding a third finger into himself. Fuck, he wanted that cock inside of him so bad. But right now one of his toys would have to do, once he was stretched out enough. He sped up his fingers, getting impatient. Gathering up all of his horny courage, he sent, show me.

what, no please? only good boys who use their manners get dick pics babydoll

Eddie pouted and whined to himself, making quick work of sliding his hot pink vibrator inside of himself—well, as quickly as he could without hurting himself. He moaned as it filled him up, making pleasure spread deep through his body. Slowly pumping it in and out, he reached for his phone. please, he typed, please let me see? wanna know what to picture while i fuck myself with my vibrator. He even added the wide eyed pouting emoji to really milk the whole begging thing. He knew he’d been playing a little coy, but now with the way internet-Richie was talking to him he was getting desperate.

well fuck baby since ur begging ;)

Eddie held his breath as he waited for the picture, slowly rocking his toy in and out, savoring the feeling. He wished it was Richie doing it, wished it was his cock. The lines between which Richie blurred; he wanted to get fucked by either of them, both of them.

What Eddie received when his phone lit up was not a picture, but a video. It was short, just a few seconds of Richie’s hand dragging wetly, smoothly over his cock, but it had Eddie drooling. The room was dark, so he’d used a flash, and it made the mix of what Eddie assumed was precome and spit glisten as the swollen head of Richie’s cock disappeared and reappeared from behind his fingers. Eddie must’ve played it at least five times, fucking himself a little faster, before remembering to say something back. And to take a video of his own. fuck, I want you so bad, want you to fucking ruin me, he wrote back. A part of him couldn’t believe how openly desperate he was being, but he found that he liked it; he liked the way it made him blush, he liked the way it felt to beg, to ask for what he wanted.

Richie’s response came fast: show me kitten. show me how you want me to fuck your pretty little ass.

Eddie moaned at the pet name; casual little nicknames were such a weakness for him. He was already so far gone, just picturing Richie’s cock inside of him, picturing him stroking his cock to thoughts of Eddie. The attention had his cock hard and leaking as he thrust his vibrator even deeper inside of himself, pumping it in and out a few more times before rolling over and getting on his hands and knees. It was hard to take a video from this angle, but he wanted to show off his ass and hide his face. Plus, there was something so hot about having his ass in the air and his face shoved in his pillow, looking like the perfect image of someone desperate to be fucked. He loved the way it made him feel, loved the thought of being so open for someone. For Richie.

He ended up shooting a short video as well, about ten seconds of him sliding his vibrator slowly in and out of himself, letting out soft little moans. He was pretty pleased with the way it turned out, his hole pink and smooth and wet as it stretched around his toy. The angle was a little weird, showing a lot of his room once or twice when his hand slipped a little, but overall he thought his ass looked amazing, if he did say so himself. He sent it and said, feels so good. do you want me to go faster?

As he sent it, he got settled on his back, forcing himself to go slow as he fucked himself while he waited for internet-Richie’s response. It was taking longer than before, and Eddie was getting antsy; it was so hard to drag it out, to not get ahead of himself. But whatever Richie was doing, Eddie knew it would be worth the wait. Still, he pouted as his cock ached, begging for attention.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock at the door.

He groaned to himself and stayed put, fucking himself even slower as he waited for whoever it was to leave. But then the knocking continued, loud and incessant and obnoxious, and Eddie knew exactly who it was. He also knew he wasn’t going to go away any time soon, which honestly made him smile and blush. Richie had terrible timing, but Eddie would never be upset to see him.

Reluctantly, he slowly slid the toy out and pulled on his shorts, leaving his shirt off. He still had a pretty obvious boner, but his horny brain did not mind the idea of Richie seeing it. So he strode lazily down the hall, shouting a performatively annoyed, “I’m coming!” Finally, he opened the door, cocking his hip to the side and giving Richie an expectant look. “Can I help you?” he asked, a small smile dancing around the corner of his lips. He had to fight off a smirk at the wide eyed look Richie gave him as he ran his eyes over Eddie’s body.

“Fuck,” he muttered lowly, his eyes trained on Eddie’s cock, which was getting even harder the more Richie stared. Eddie bit his lip and grinned a little, making doe eyes at Richie. But Richie didn’t meet his gaze—instead he brushed past Eddie, his mouth still hanging open as he made his way urgently toward Eddie’s bedroom.

“Richie?” Eddie asked, a little let down that Richie’s hands weren’t all over him right now. But hey, if he was heading to Eddie’s bedroom he figured that was at least the right direction. He closed his front door and followed Richie into his room, where he found him staring at the bright pink vibrator on the bed. As confident and horny as Eddie was feeling, that still made him blush. He was only human. Crossing his arms, he said, bashful now, “I was kind of in the middle of something.”

Richie looked over at him, his cheeks bright red under his freckles. Then he got a glimmer of that trademark shit-eating grin on his face. “Eds, you fucking slut,” he said, sounding both delighted and breathless. “You are so fucking hot.”

Eddie flushed and tried not to squirm, but he couldn’t help but press his legs together, his eyes brightening. Fuck, was this actually happening? Shit, he needed to think of something witty to say. “You gonna do anything about it?” Okay, that kinda sounded like a corny porn, but he had to give himself credit for even being able to form words just after his lifelong crush and personal wet dream had just admitted his attraction to him.

“I think I already have been,” Richie said, still grinning.

Eddie cocked an eyebrow at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. “Oh yeah? How do you figure that?”

Eddie was expecting a confession. He was expecting something along the lines of you think I don’t notice how you look at me? or did you really think those were casual touches earlier? What he was not expecting was for Richie to unlock his phone and hold it up, showing Eddie the video he had just taken, the video he’d sent to internet-Richie.

Oh. Oh. Oh fuck.

“Oh my god, that’s you?” Eddie cried in disbelief.

“You’re telling me you didn’t recognize this dick?” Richie asked, swaggering over to Eddie, clearly enjoying himself.

“How did you recognize it was me?”

Richie nodded toward the Thundercats poster on Eddie’s wall, then to the model train that sat on his dresser. “What other guy has decor like that and the ass to match?”

Eddie grinned and shook his head. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Well pardon me for not being especially eloquent when I’ve just learned that the guy I’ve been masturbating to since I learned how to and been in love with for even longer has been masturbating to me too.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, all thoughts of getting fucked leaving for a moment. “You’re in love with me?” he asked, his voice as soft as his smile.

Richie was not a bashful person, but the little laugh he let out just then was close to it. “Have been my whole life, but thanks for finally noticing.”

Eddie shook his head and stepped closer, until he had to crane his head up to meet Richie’s gaze. “I love you too.”

Richie’s eyes widened behind his thick frames. Eddie had only seen that look in Richie’s eyes a few times before, but he never wanted to lose sight of it again. He always wanted Richie to look at him like that. But then Richie was closing his eyes and leaning down. It only took Eddie a second to get with the program, drinking in the moment just a little longer before letting his own eyes fall shut as he pressed his lips against Richie’s.

It started gentle enough, if deep and passionate and intentional. But then Richie’s hands were on Eddie’s bare waist, skin against skin, and Eddie was gasping into Richie’s mouth, his hands coming up and resting against Richie’s chest. He curled his fingers into Richie’s shirt as Richie ran his tongue over Eddie’s lips, just before pulling away. He laughed at Eddie’s indignant little whine.

“Oh, you mean you don’t want me to take off my shirt right now?” he smirked as Eddie tried to pull him closer by the offending fabric. Huffing, Eddie conceded and let go long enough to let Richie pull the shirt off over his head.

“Oh,” he said softly, his voice a little, awed moan as he drank in Richie’s chest. It wasn’t like Richie had never been shirtless in front of Eddie before, but Eddie had never felt like he was allowed to really look at Richie all those times. But now he could; now he could touch. And he did, running his fingers over Richie’s smooth, warm skin, over his acne scars and blackheads and freckles. “Fuck, Richie,” he sighed before pressing his lips to Richie’s collarbones, trailing them all over Richie’s beautiful chest.

Richie gave a breathless, almost shy laugh as he stroked Eddie’s hair. “Damn, Eds, never pegged you as a tits guy.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eddie giggled, bringing his lips back to Richie’s. They both smiled into it, getting lost for a moment as Richie’s hands slid slowly down Eddie’s sides. His hands lingered on Eddie’s hips for a moment before he slid them further down and grabbed at Eddie’s ass, making him gasp.

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who’s about to rail you ‘til you can’t walk?”

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Eddie asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Spank me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Richie smirked. He gave Eddie’s ass a playful smack, making Eddie gasp again and fall into him, needing more. Richie’s voice was dripping with adoration as he purred, “Little brat,” and pulled Eddie against him, kissing him again. Eddie went with it easily and happily parted his lips to let Richie lick into his mouth. Richie had one hand gripping Eddie’s jaw and the other on his ass, touching him in a way that exuded a command Eddie was desperate to follow. God, Eddie knew Richie had big hands, but they felt huge on him like this. It was dizzyingly hot. And the way Richie’s tongue was teasing his had Eddie’s knees going weak. His dick was throbbing in his shorts, aching to finish what he’d started, what had been interrupted. When he thought about it all—about playing with himself for Richie, about the video Richie had sent him, about all those things Richie had said about filling Eddie up—he felt himself clench down on nothing, desperate to get fucked. Desperate to feel Richie’s cock so deep inside of him.

“Richie,” he whined into the kiss, pulling on Richie’s belt loops, “please.” He pressed himself urgently against Richie and rutted shamelessly against his thigh.

“Fuck, you’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” His voice was cocky and teasing, but there was an apparent undercurrent of wonder there as well.

Eddie shoved his face into Richie’s neck and whined, grabbing onto Richie’s wrists without even knowing what his goal was. “Richie,” he whimpered, sounding pitiful and ruined already.

“What do you want, baby?” Richie’s voice made it clear that he was enjoying seeing Eddie this wrecked, and that just made Eddie even harder. “Come on, tell me, use your words.”

Eddie squirmed as Richie held him close, but still not touching him in any relieving way. “I need you inside,” Eddie said, his voice high and soft as he squirmed in Richie’s grip. “God, please, Richie, need you to fuck me. Fuck me so hard I can’t even think. Fuck me like I’m your little toy.”

Eddie could hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and judging by the gasp he heard Richie let out, he’d caught Richie off guard too. But if the hard bulge in his jeans that brushed up against Eddie was any indication, he was apparently just as turned on as Eddie was. Besides, Eddie knew from his blog that Richie was really into that sort of thing too—and, apparently, really into the idea of doing those things with Eddie. The realization that Richie had been saying all those filthy things about him had him grinding against him with even more fervor, kissing his neck with a heated confidence. Richie moaned, and Eddie could feel the warmth of it spreading through him. “Yeah, sweetheart? You want to feel me inside you? You think you’re ready for me?”

“Yes,” Eddie sighed, looking up at Richie with wide, desperate eyes. He shivered at the new look in Richie’s eyes, the blue nearly entirely eclipsed by how wide his pupils were. He looked hungry for Eddie; Eddie wanted to feel it. “‘M ready, Richie, please, so open for you.” He looked to the toy on his bed pointedly, but Richie only gave a deep laugh.

“Oh honey, that’s cute that you think that little thing is gonna have you ready for my cock.” Eddie’s breath caught; that toy wasn’t small. Before he could gather his scattered brain enough to react, Richie was scooping him up and tossing him on the bed, the toy falling forgotten to the floor. Richie moved Eddie onto his back, and Eddie went happily, pliantly. Richie’s fingers were cool against Eddie’s burning skin as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Eddie’s shorts, slowly dragging them over his hips and down his legs, tossing them to the floor. Eddie’s cock was dripping with precome, his chest flushed a bright red as he squirmed under Richie’s gaze. Eddie been dreaming of Richie manhandling him like this for he didn’t even know how long; he couldn’t help the way he reacted. And he especially couldn’t help the pleased little sound he made when Richie murmured, “God, you’re gorgeous, Eds.” Then Richie was grabbing him by the ankles, gently but firmly spreading Eddie’s legs, and Eddie let out the most pathetic, genuine moan he’d ever heard. “Fuck, baby, you sound pretty. You like when I spread you open?” Richie asked. He was smirking down at Eddie, but Eddie could see how flushed he was, could see the thrilled awe in his dark, hungry eyes as Eddie nodded.

“Richie, please,” Eddie whimpered. “I need you so bad.” He sat up, reaching for Richie’s belt, but Richie easily pressed him back against the mattress with a large hand on the center of his chest. The confidence in Richie’s dominance took Eddie’s breath away, and he stayed right where he was, nice and obedient, as he watched Richie get off the bed and slowly undo his belt, then his button and zipper. He took his time dragging his jeans and boxers off, enough time to let Eddie’s eyes linger on the reveal of the dark hair under Richie’s waistband. Then Richie’s cock was bouncing up against his stomach, hard and flushed and fucking long. Eddie moaned at the sight and fisted the sheets underneath him. He wanted so badly to get his mouth on Richie, to breathe him in and be nice and good for Richie on his knees. But he was also desperate to get fucked; his hole clenched down on nothing at the thought, and then it was all he could think about again. “Richie,” he repeated, whining now as he reached for him. “Stop being such a tease.”

Richie laughed as he moved easily out of Eddie’s grip and climbed on top of him. Eddie gasped softly at the sight of Richie above him, his dark curls surrounding his face, his full, pink lips pulled into the most beautiful smile Eddie had ever seen in his life. He ran his hands over Richie’s chest and sides, marveling at the fact that this was really happening. Then, his eyes flickering down, he tentatively brought his hand to Richie’s cock.

“Oh, fuck,” they said, both at the same time, making them giggle together.

“Fuck, Eds, your pretty little hand looks so cute wrapped around my cock,” Richie teased in a low, rough voice. Eddie shivered; he couldn’t tell if Richie was praising him or degrading him, but either way it made his head fuzzy.

“‘M not that little,” Eddie grumbled out of habit. But he was clearly breathless. He’d never been good at pretending not to like Richie’s compliments, however teasing.

“Aw, but you are, baby,” Richie cooed, nuzzling his nose against Eddie’s and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “You’re so cute and tiny for me. I don’t even know if we’ll be able to fit my cock inside you.”

“I can,” Eddie whined, both indignant and impatient. He bucked his hips up, but Richie held him down. He gasped when he felt the warm, soft skin of Richie’s cock press against his stomach. Looking down, he saw that Richie had his cock lying on Eddie’s stomach, showing just how deep he would be once he was inside Eddie.

“You sure about that, babydoll?” While the teasing note was still there, Richie’s voice got noticeably softer as he said, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Eddie’s chest swelled at that. Cupping Richie’s face in his hands, he insisted, “I can take it.” Then he reached down and took Richie in his hand, glowing with pride when Richie let out a low moan. “Richie, please, I want you so bad.”

“Okay, baby,” Richie agreed, turning his head to kiss Eddie’s palm. “Fuck, I want you, too.” But he stalled. “Have you ever… like, been fucked before?”

Eddie flushed. “Well, not by someone else, but I have some toys. I’m not gonna break, Richie.” He huffed, but the way Richie was looking at him soothed any ruffled feathers.

“I’m your first?” His smile was soft, and while his eyes glittered, there was nothing teasing about his tone.

“I didn’t wanna do it with anyone else,” Eddie mumbled. He tried to look away, but Richie pulled him into a kiss.

“Fuck, I never thought you’d want me,” he chuckled. “Sorry, that was depressing, I just mean I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner, you know?”

Eddie beamed, a small, giddy giggle dancing on his lips. “Well it’ll happen sooner if you stop talking so much.” But his smile, and all of the little kisses he planted on Richie’s freckled shoulders told Richie that Eddie never wanted him to stop talking.

“Alright, alright, sheesh, I know I’m hot but you don’t gotta rush me.” Eddie was still giggling when Richie kissed him, and he could feel that Richie was smiling too. “Where’s your lube?”

Eddie stretched his hand out and patted the bed for a moment, searching. After what was probably only four seconds but felt like an eternity, he finally found the bottle and handed it eagerly to Richie. “Oh, right,” Richie smirked, “you’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” Eddie moaned as Richie swiped his fingers over Eddie’s slick hole, pressing in just a bit. His fingers went in easily, and he pumped them slowly, drawing little, breathy moans out of Eddie. Richie’s fingers were a lot longer and thicker than his own, and they felt amazing, but they weren’t what he wanted in that moment.

“Richie, fuck me,” he whined.

“Aw, no please? Again?” Richie tsked and shook his head, curling his fingers against Eddie’s prostate, making him cry out. “I told you, sweetheart, only good boys who use their manners get fucked.”

“Please,” Eddie cried. He rocked his hips and grabbed at Richie’s shoulders, at his arms, not even sure what his goal was there other than to get Richie closer, to get his attention, to show him how desperate he was. “Please fuck me, please.” He sounded pathetic begging like this, but that just made him harder. And it made Richie’s pupils even wider as he slid his fingers out of Eddie and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Good boy,” he purred. Eddie moaned and arched into Richie’s touch, but he only gave Eddie one more kiss on his cheek before pulling back and covering his cock in lube. Eddie watched, entranced, as Richie’s hand moved smoothly over his cock, glistening and slick. Then Richie was gently spreading Eddie’s legs even further and pressing the head of his cock against Eddie’s hole.

“Yes,” Eddie whimpered brokenly, grasping at the sheets beneath him. “Richie, please.” Meeting his gaze, he said softly, “I need you.”

“I’ve got you,” Richie assured him in a voice that made Eddie feel like he was glowing. Richie took Eddie’s hand in his and entwined their fingers, using his other hand to guide his cock inside of Eddie, who gasped at the feeling. God, he couldn’t believe this was happening. He couldn’t believe his first time was going to be with his favorite person. He couldn’t believe he was finally getting exactly what he wanted. Love flooded through him, warm and perfect, somehow both soothing and electrifying as he watched Richie’s face. Eddie’s mouth dropped as Richie pressed into him, deeper and deeper and still fucking deeper, until finally Richie let out a low moan and Eddie felt absolutely breathless. The stretch was intense, and he held onto Richie tightly as he caught his breath. “Are you alright?” Richie asked. His voice was strained, but the care and concern in it was clear. “You don’t have to take all of it if it’s too much.”

Eddie wanted to laugh at the remark or roll his eyes, but with how breathless and dizzied by pleasure he already was, he had to admit Richie had a point. “Just need a minute,” he gasped. Richie ran a soothing hand over Eddie’s skin, helping him even out his breathing and relax. The feeling of Richie’s cock twitching in anticipation inside of him had him letting out little moans as he adjusted, getting more and more used to the feeling until he felt comfortable enough to tell Richie he could move. Richie kissed him before he did, his lips soft against Eddie’s, a reassuring weight. Eddie breathed in sharply as Richie pulled back, grabbing at Richie’s shoulders.

Richie immediately stopped. “You okay, baby?” he asked, caressing Eddie’s face.

Eddie wanted to melt. Richie was always touching him, always jokingly flirting with him, but this unabashed concern and, well, love had previously been reserved for dire situations, like panic attacks or injuries. Eddie couldn’t help the dopey smile that bloomed on his face as he tilted his chin up and kissed Richie. “I’m okay,” he said breathlessly. “It’s just a little different from my vibrator.” They both gave a shaky laugh as Richie nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“Better, I hope?” he grinned.

“Can’t tell yet,” Eddie retorted. Another snarky comment was on the tip of his tongue when Richie pulled his hips further back, effectively sucking all the air—and attitude—from Eddie’s chest. And then Richie was pushing back in, and Eddie let out a moan he couldn’t have faked if he tried, relaxing back into the mattress as his eyes fell shut. It was the best thing he’d ever felt, pleasure and relief flooding through his body. They’d been building up this tension for years; Eddie had figured it would feel good to break it, but it really felt magical, like something had just clicked into place. Feeling Richie inside of him, rocking his hips carefully, feeling Richie twitch as he tried not to lose control had Eddie’s head reeling. Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on Richie above him, on how flushed his face was. When Richie met his eye, pressing in deep, Eddie let out a small, “Fuck.”

“Yeah? Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

Richie was smirking as he said it, but there was something else sparkling in his eyes. Something giddy and awed. Something that made Eddie sigh dreamily, “I love you.”

Richie’s eyes widened for a moment before he pressed his lips firmly against Eddie’s, his hands roaming over Eddie’s body like he couldn’t choose where to put them, where to touch him. “I love you so much,” he beamed, pressing a few more kisses to Eddie’s cheeks. Eddie giggled at the feeling, but then Richie’s hips moved just a little faster, pressing him in just a little deeper, and he was back to melting under Richie’s touch, clinging to him as he rocked his hips with Richie’s. “Fuck, you’re so amazing, baby, so fucking beautiful. You look so good like this, holy shit.”

Eddie smiled almost drunkenly at Richie’s ability to ramble even when blowing Eddie’s mind. “Feels so good,” he moaned, his voice breathy and just a little bit higher than normal. He wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist. “Please, Richie, please.”

“Fuck, baby, wanna make you feel like this all the fucking time,” Richie groaned as he picked up the pace. Eddie whined in pleasure at the change, and that just spurred Richie to go faster, harder, until he was well and truly fucking Eddie, both of them moaning with every thrust.

“Oh my god,” Eddie cried, “ohmygodohmygodhmygod, oh fuck, Richie, please.” It felt so amazing, Richie fucking into him like this, but he needed that little bit more. His cock was throbbing desperately, achingly hard; he needed to feel Richie’s hand on him. “Richie, please,” he whimpered, “please, please touch me. I need you, I need you so bad, please, Richie.” Eddie was pouting now, grabbing aimlessly at Richie, his legs still wrapped tight around him.

“Fuck, you’re so hard for me,” Richie marveled, his voice sweet and condescending as he wrapped his hand around Eddie’s cock. Eddie nearly screamed at the contact, his back arching off the bed. Richie laughed a little, which just made Eddie even harder. The way Richie spread his precome over his cock, twisting his wrist just so as he stroked him had that familiar tension coiling in his lower stomach. “Aw, does that feel good? You gonna come on my cock, kitten?”

“Fuck, yes!” Eddie screamed. He gripped at the sheets as Richie stroked him, his voice washing over Eddie, mixing with the pleasure of Richie’s touch, of his thrusts. “Yes, yes, yes, please let me come, please, please, please.”

“That’s a good boy,” Richie purred, and Eddie could feel himself tipping over the edge at the words, at how low and affected Richie’s voice was. He groaned out, “Come on my cock like a good boy, princess,” and pure pleasure crashed over Eddie like a wave. He arched his back and cried out as he came, his moans filling the room as he squirmed under Richie, grabbed at him, at the sheets. It was fucking ethereal. He felt somehow so in tune with his body and yet so detached, like he was floating. He was barely cognizant of what Richie was saying, but when he put the sounds together and realized Richie had just said, panting, “Fuck, baby, gonna come,” Eddie felt like a live wire again.

“In me,” he said urgently. His mind was still a little too scattered for full sentences, but he knew what he wanted. God, he felt like he needed it. Like he needed to feel that connected to Richie. “Richie, come inside me, please.”

Richie apparently didn’t need to be told twice; he let out a moaned, “Oh, fuck,” before burying his face in Eddie’s neck, his breathy moans like music in Eddie’s ear. And then, as Eddie was coming down from his own high, he felt the holiest thing in the world: Richie’s cock, twitching inside of him, then his warm come filling Eddie up. It was unreal, being this close to him. Richie clutching at him as he came. It was even better than the little fantasies Eddie occasionally allowed himself. Richie was here, in his arms, pressing kisses to his neck as he caught his breath. Eddie was stroking his hair and rubbing his back as Richie nuzzled into him. Richie’s skin pressed against his skin, his legs wrapped around Richie’s waist, then falling to his sides, but still pressed to him. Still keeping him close. There wasn’t a single thought in his head that wasn’t about Richie.

Richie pulled him from his dreamy haze with light kisses pressed up his jaw, then over his cheeks. Eddie giggled at the onslaught of affection, still reeling from how fucking hot and euphoric what they had just done together had been. But he happily accepted Richie’s kisses, his heart bursting, then racing as Richie pulled back to look in his eyes. “Holy, fuck,” Richie beamed, his face flushed and blue eyes hooded from the weight of his orgasm, even as they sparkled.

“I know,” Eddie said, returning Richie’s grin as he basked in the surreality of having Richie on top of him, his dorky yet charming smile framed by lips that were red and swollen because of Eddie. His glasses were knocked askew, and Eddie instinctively reached up to fix them. With a sense of wonder, he realized that his touch was allowed to linger this time. He ran his fingers down Richie’s cheekbones, over his jaw, cupped his cheeks. “I love you,” he said. The words spilled out over his lips like he couldn’t stand not to say them. And while it made his heart race a little to say it out loud now that the adrenaline and tension was all worked through, it felt even better this time when Richie’s face softened and he nuzzled his nose against Eddie’s.

“I love you so fucking much.” Richie’s voice rarely got that soft, that sincere; it felt like a blanket wrapping around Eddie. It felt safe, secure. It felt like a promise. And if there was anyone in the world Eddie knew he could trust, it was Richie. That feeling of everything coming together came back to Eddie as he lay there under Richie, their lips moving together, feeling light as a feather now that everything was finally out in the open.

#reddie #notsfw #reddie smut #reddie fic

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Text

like a secret in your throat

y’all asked for whump. y’all got whump. title from “Vampires Will Never Hurt You” by my all-time favorite band, My Chemical Romance

whump, hurt/comfort with a happy ending!

tw: manhandling the bard, vampire transformations (side character), non-sexy biting, blood mention, canon typical injuries/violence

---

Geralt looked up from his mug of ale when he realized that Jaskier had stopped playing. Instead, the bard was chatting merrily away with a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark cloak. The hood obscured most of the stranger’s face but Geralt caught the reflective glint of a bead or piece of metal braided into his matted black hair. An instinct tickled at the back of the Witcher’s head but Geralt couldn’t quite place the feeling. Something was wrong about this little tableau but he couldn’t figure out what it was; his medallion wasn’t reacting to anything in particular and Jaskier seemed perfectly happy, lost in conversation with the dark-haired man.

Geralt returned his gaze to his mug and let his mind wander.

Jaskier did seem perfectly happy to be without him on nights like these, when they were back in civilization and the extroverted bard could branch out and meet new people. That was the problem, in Geralt’s opinion.

Lately the Witcher had found himself contemplating what life would be like on the Path if he decided to travel alone again. Winter wasn’t close enough for him to excuse himself and go North, but he’d developed a strange and uncomfortable dependence on the bard that he needed to be weaned away from. It wasn’t healthy for either of them.

It wasn’t safe.

If he grew too close to Jaskier, then…

Wouldn’t that be a weakness? Wouldn’t that be a vulnerability and a dangerous closeness? Geralt couldn’t risk forming a connection like that. He couldn’t allow himself to hope for something so organic and pure to develop between a half-monster and a youthful, bright-eyed bard; Witchers weren’t meant to get nice things. That was not his lot in life.

And yet…

Some mornings, when he only barely cracked his eyes open and used his heightened senses to peek across their campsite, he saw Jaskier looking back at him, a curious glint in those pretty blue irises. Geralt couldn’t pinpoint the emotion the bard’s face held; he was bad at that, and the uncertainty of the younger man’s feelings scared him. He could handle rejection, but acceptance? If Jaskier was as loving and openminded as Geralt thought him to be, it could prove to be a problem. Jaskier was too good for a Witcher. He didn’t deserve to be trapped by a life on the Path, dying too young because he was foolhardy and quick to fall in love.

The Witcher’s introspection came to an abrupt halt when the Jaskier in question appeared beside him, flushed and grinning. “Geralt, dear heart, are you ready to retire for the evening?”

“Are you asking me to bed?” the Witcher smirked, smothering the very real ache in his chest at the thought of curling up next to Jaskier like that. “Or do you need to borrow our room to entertain a guest?”

“Oh, no, I have no plans of that nature.” Jaskier’s already pink face darkened a shade and Geralt’s stomach flipped. “I’m actually rather tired. I was hoping to get some decent sleep tonight before we flung ourselves back into nature tomorrow.”

“Hmm. I’ll be along shortly. Don’t wait up.”

“See you in a bit then, dear heart.”

And Jaskier disappeared up the stairs.

Unfortunately, the Witcher didn’t realize he wasn’t the only one watching Jaskier slip into their rented room with a longing expression on his face.

---

“We need to set up camp for the evening,” Geralt announced, bringing Roach to a stop and sliding gracefully down from the saddle. Jaskier loved the way his Witcher looked when he did that, like some kind of fairytale Prince or knight errant. The way his long, silver-white hair shifted and fluttered against his shoulders in the dusky light made him look more like a fantastical painting than a century-old Witcher; even with his scars and his pallid skin tone.

The unconventionally enchanting sight made ballads stir in the most romantic corners of the bard’s busy mind. Words pooled and shifted behind his eyes, arranging themselves into neat rhyming couplets or quatrains.

Geralt of Rivia, tall and fair,

With golden eyes and silver hair;

Whose glare could even douse the sun,

And send a Gryphon on the run.

The bard barely kept himself from sighing aloud as he removed his pack from across his shoulders and unfolded his bedroll and thin travel blanket. The material felt fragile between his calloused fingertips and he sighed forlornly, “I’m going to need a new blanket soon.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it. And I’ll get Roach some new reins while I’m in town,” the bard waved his hand nonchalantly, as if spending money was no big deal. It really wasn’t, all things considered. They would be able to travel far more comfortably if Geralt would allow them to stop in Novigrad and access his University accounts more often. Alas, Witchers are stubborn creatures. “I see the way they chafe her poor muzzle, Geralt, so don’t argue. If you really insist you can pay me back by letting me write a song about the color of your eyes.”

“My… eyes?”

“They’re rather pretty, dear heart, and I think the world could do with a ballad about how they glow when you turn your face toward the sun.”

Geralt felt the back of his neck grow hot and he glanced away, “Hmm.”

“Well, let me know what you think in the morning. I don’t need an answer right away.”

Geralt finished setting up a decent pile of firewood and brought it to life with an efficient burst of Igni. He glanced across the flames to Jaskier and grunted, “I’m going to catch us some dinner. Make tea.”

“Yes, sir,” Jaskier saluted, smiling. Geralt rolled his eyes, grabbed his crossbow, and disappeared into the darkening treeline. Jaskier began to hum as he set up their tea kettle and filled it with water from the waterskin. The humming turned to quiet singing as he measured out two mugs worth of tea from the sachet of dried leaves.

Singing that was cut off with a sharp, sudden cry.

---

Geralt heard the bard scream once. Only once.

The sound punctuated the air before leaving an uncomfortable, grating silence in its wake.

The Witcher took off towards their campfire without a second thought, allowing his instincts to take over and guide him safely back, the potency of Jaskier’s fear hung thick and sour in the air, growing stronger the closer he came to their clearing. When he burst back into view, chest heaving from the sprint, he widened his eyes at the sight before him:

The cloaked figure from the tavern had Jaskier wrapped in his burly arms. One large, long-fingered hand had immobilized Jaskier’s wrists by pressing them into the dip at the base of the bard’s spine, forcing his elbows out and pressing his chest even tighter against the stranger’s.

Jaskier looked up at Geralt beseechingly through his dark, damp lashes. His mouth opened in a silent cry of confusion and pain when the man tugged at his wrists and forced his arms to bend awkwardly. The bard wriggled and strained against the stranger’s iron grip in an effort to escape but the man only snarled in irritation and jerked him back into place. “Bad bard. Stay put, little thing.”

Geralt took a slow step towards his swords, trying to reassure Jaskier with his expression that: Everything will be okay. I will get you out of this. I will protect you and keep you safe… somehow.

Jaskier needed Geralt to pay attention and protect him from harm.

Geralt had failed.

The Witcher watched with wide, horrified eyes as the hulking man keeping Jaskier captive shifted slowly into a far less humanoid form. The baubles braided into his hair jangled and clinked as his nose elongated and his eyes widened. His arms lengthened to form clawed bat-wings and his face thinned and covered over with a layer of grey fur. Fangs burst forth from his gums and slid over his previously humanesque canines. His voice, which had been rasping odd little sounds in the Witcher’s direction, faded into an terrible shriek.

A Katakan.

A Katakan that had snuck in and out of civilization without Geralt so much as smelling it; one that had Jaskier pinned against its chest, the claws of its unoccupied hand sharp and dangerous as they hovered near the bard’s ribcage, ready to pierce but unwilling to waste precious blood unless absolutely necessary. It screamed again, even more shrilly. “Want him!”

Geralt dove forward and pulled his silver sword from its sheath. He swung it in an elegant arc and narrowed his eyes, “Let him go and I might let you live.”

The Witcher’s words were a lie and they both knew it.

The Katakan twitched its long ears in annoyance and hauled Jaskier even closer. It wrenched his arms painfully and the bard whimpered, blue eyes filling steadily with tears. Geralt’s heart seized wretchedly in his chest and he tried his best to ignore it; he couldn’t let his feelings distract him until Jaskier was safe.

“I want him,” the monster rasped, readjusting the bard in its grip. It turned Jaskier around until he was facing the Witcher, releasing his wrists just long enough to pull his hands around to the front before capturing them again. It grazed its two long fangs against the column of Jaskier’s throat and trilled happily. “He sings so pretty. Talks so sweet. Bet he tastes sweet like he talks.”

“Hmm,” Geralt agreed. “He does have a rather pretty singing voice. I suppose that’s why I can’t have you killing him.”

“But he will sing for me,” the vampire shrugged. It shook Jaskier like a toy and the bard’s tears finally fell. He whimpered again when the vampire leaned close and told him: “Sing, little thing. Let me pull lovely music from your veins.”

Jaskier shivered visibly. He gave a few panting, strangled sobs as he slipped into panic, too frightened to move with the vampire’s fangs so close to his neck. He wanted Geralt to finally swing that stupid sword and get this over with. He wanted to curl up in Geralt’s arms and never leave for the rest of his life. He wanted to be taken to Kaer Morhen and hidden away in safety, fuck his music career and the rest of the world. He wanted Geralt to stay in his presence forever, never letting him out of sight again. He wanted…

Before he could finish his thought there was a sharp, piercing, all-encompassing pain at the juncture where his neck met his shoulder.

A keening wail filled the air once.

The vampire bit down harder, its tongue sliding against the skin of the bard’s neck in an effort to urge the blood to exit faster.

There was another high, piteous cry for help and then...

The world went black.

---

When Jaskier opened his eyes again, the world was even darker than it had been before; mostly because the light from both the moon and their campfire was being blocked out by the broad plane of Geralt’s chest, which Jaskier found himself cradled against almost… lovingly. Above him, he heard the Witcher murmuring: “Jaskier, please. Please wake up, Julek. Come on, bard, I kn-”

“G-Geralt?” he managed to croak. He followed it with a very eloquent, “Hunh?”

“Jaskier,” the Witcher sagged with relief, pressing his forehead against the bard’s and breathing in deeply. He tightened his arms around Jaskier, pulling him even closer as his frown disappeared, “Melitele be blessed, you’re alive!”

“Should I not be?” Jaskier asked. He tried to sit up on his own and winced when a bright burst of pain flared out from his shoulder.

“The Katakan- You were bleeding so much and I-” Geralt was, as always, at a loss for words. Jaskier waited patiently, still feeling drowsy and half-alive, and allowed the Witcher to gather his thoughts. His neck ached and his left arm tingled fiercely every time he tried to flex his hand on that side.

“Did it… Am I a vampire now?” he asked. The absurdity of the question broke Geralt from his confusion.

“No,” the Witcher answered swiftly. “You’re still very mortal-” a hand swept through Jaskier’s hair, calming him further “-And unfortunately still very fragile.”

“Are you going to beat yourself up over this for the next week and somehow twist it around until it’s all your fault?”

“Hmm,” Geralt looked away. Jaskier was still being held so very tenderly in his arms, laid across the Witcher’s lap like some kind of swooning maiden. He rather liked how close he was to Geralt and hoped to stay that way for just a little longer. The Witcher surprised them both by letting a full sentence slip into the air between them, “I don’t like seeing you hurt, Jaskier, especially not when… when I was close enough that I could have prevented it from happening at all.”

“Your medallion didn’t give you any hints about this thing back at the inn when I was talking to him? He seemed completely normal, if a little monosyllabic. I’m used to monosyllabic, anyway,” the bard joked, trying to lighten the mood somewhat. It didn’t work; Geralt lifted his head and stared into the fire, his brow already furrowed as he slipped into his private realm of self-loathing. Jaskier was still laying across his lap, his neck and shoulder giving off pulsing aches with every beat of his heart.

Eventually the Witcher spoke again, his voice low and full of frustration. “Katakans are different, they don’t- they don’t set off my medallion the way other creatures do, and they can disguise themselves as people. They can move and talk like people; you saw it transform.”

“I did,” Jaskier grimaced. “And it wanted me to sing while it drank my blood.”

“You didn’t do very much singing,” the Witcher grumbled. “You screamed twice and fainted. It nearly dropped you.”

“If I remember correctly,” the bard smiled playfully, “Someone said my singing was too pretty for me to die.”

“Hmm.”

“It was you, Geralt. You said that.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier tried to sit up again and nearly passed out from the pain that screamed through the entire left side of his body. “I- Geralt, I-”

“What’s wrong, Julek?” the Witcher asked, adjusting the bard until he was more comfortably enclosed in Geralt’s arms, his back leaning against one of Geralt’s bent legs for support. Geralt’s other leg was straightened out before him and Jaskier let his calves fall atop the Witcher’s thick thighs. They looked like a painting, with Jaskier reclined as he was and Geralt looking at him like that.

“Everything hurts, dear heart. My whole left side feels aflame.”

“It’ll burn like that for a day or so,” Geralt shushed him. “You bled quite a lot, you were bitten, and you hit the ground pretty hard.”

“You didn’t catch me?”

“I was a little busy beheading your attacker and keeping you from becoming a member of the undead,” Geralt scoffed. “Pardon me for not carrying you to safety first.”

“Well since you let me get injured, you have to kiss it better to gain your pardon,” the bard insisted. Geralt’s eyes widened comically and his hand clenched where it was resting on Jaskier’s lower back.

“It’ll- It would hurt if I kissed your wound,” Geralt replied shakily, trying to escape while he still could. Jaskier wasn’t about to let him. Not again.

“Then you’ll just have to kiss my lips instead.”

“Jaskier?”

“Hush, Geralt. I know how you feel about me, and I feel much the same about you. Let’s skip the words bit, because I know that’s not your favorite, and get right to the kissing.”

“Oh, uh...” The Witcher allowed himself to smile. It was a soft, nervous thing but it made his eyes crinkle at the corners and Jaskier felt himself fall even further in love with his darling Geralt. “Alright.”

Geralt cupped the back of Jaskier’s head carefully, tilting his own chin down, and brought their lips together slowly. The bard’s lips were soft and plush and warm beneath his own, giving just slightly but not wilting beneath his touch. It was better than anything he could have imagined. When they pulled apart, Jaskier frowned.

“Was it bad?” Geralt asked automatically, more nervous than he had ever been with another lover.

“No,” Jaskier shook his head. “I just don’t think I’m healed yet. I may require another. Or several more.”

“Well, if the patient thinks it’s necessary,” Geralt grinned, leaning forward again. Jaskier pulled himself up a little to meet him, ignoring the lances of hurt in his arm. “I suppose...”

#geraskier #geraskier ficlet #geraskier fluff #whump and fluff #jaskier whump #katakan #yes i know they can also turn invisible #but that wasn't really gonna help the plot here so sorry #geraskier whump #whump with a happy ending #geraskier whump and fluff #bouncey's endless getting together fics #kissing #first kiss #getting together #jaskier in trouble #wounded jaskier #protective geralt

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dokidokey · 3 years

Text

who would have thought that passing a 20-page paper 5 days late would lead you to dabi?

word count: 3,765

tags & warnings: bad boy x straight a student au, college au, fluff, a pinch of endeavor slander, brief mention of throwing up, brief mention of abuse (nothing explicit, the word just gets mentioned once!)

notes: hi zeze (@reddriot), i’m your secret santa! sorry this is so late, we’re on our way home at this ungodly hour and i finally have some stable connection now lmao. i’m so so sorry but also, happy holidays! i hope you enjoy what my pretty much dry and blank mind managed to cook up lol i’m so thankful and i met you and got to know you. <3 thank u for everything. and the title lol omg i’m so bad at titles but i kind realized it rhymes with ornaments, so i left it at that.

The day you met Todoroki Touya was not a good day. You would even consider it a bad week, actually. Apparently, you were a week late on a 20-page paper for History and you didn’t even know. It irked you because you have no other excuse except that you didn’t know. There was a totally different due date in your head, one that wasn’t five days ago. So when your teacher shook her head disapprovingly while tucking your 20-page paper against the smooth surface of her desk, you had no other choice but to leave the room.

You wouldn’t want a teacher to see you cry over a late submission. You certainly wouldn’t want other students roaming the hallway to see you cry either, so you had to fight off the warmth pooling at the corners of your eyes. The last corner leading to the campus library was where Todoroki Touya presented himself.

The impact of your bodies bumping against each other came first, then the stinging pinch of something hot against your skin next. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as you pulled your arm away, eyes widening at the sight of a small, circular burn mark on your forearm.

“You burned － Why are you smoking here?” The accusing tone in your voice immediately disappeared and replaced by panic as you watched a quite familiar face bring a cigarette to his lips, perfectly poised between his long fingers. “You’re not allowed to smoke on campus grounds!”

A puff of smoke swirled through the air as he huffed, the corner of his lips twitching as he eyed you up and down. The intense, blue eyes taking over your body sent shivers down your spine, arms protectively crossing over your front to try and shield yourself from his gaze.

“Not if I don’t get caught,” he smirked, bringing the cigarette back up to his lips. The man was familiar; face and most of his skin that’s exposed under the leather jacket were covered in scars, a dark contrast against his fair complexion. You’re sure you will never forget him if you knew him, but the familiarity of his face doesn’t ring any names in your head.

He puffed out the smoke in a harsh breath, the delicate sound seeming so loud in the quiet and isolated hallway. For a moment you forgot about your late History paper and the chances of you getting anything lower than an A.

Both of your palms met the fabric of your denim-clad thigh in a light slap, arms sagging and voice raising. “If you and I get caught－!”

“Then leave.”

The deadpan and harsh delivery of his words left you open-mouthed, the disapproving look of your teacher once again flashing in your mind. The corners of your eyes warmed again, stinging more than the way it did earlier.

You’re croaking out an unwanted explanation before you realized it. “I － I might get detention and－,” you sniffled, trying to prevent the tears from flowing because you know how embarrassing that would be, so much so to this mysterious person who you found familiar but not really. “And my parents－.”

A scoff cuts you off. You watched as he killed the ember of the cigarette using his bare fingers, pinching the lit end between his thumb and forefinger before tucking it in one of his front pockets. If it weren’t for the strong stench of the cigarette, no one would suspect that he was smoking here, in front of you, inside campus grounds.

“Of course. Precious little [Name] can’t have bad grades and a bad record.”

He said it as if it was so bad. You wouldn’t normally find offense on jabs like those, but today wasn’t just your day. Your retort died down quickly in your throat though when you realized he said your name. He knew you.

With furrowed brows and quivering lips, you asked, “how do you know me?”

The dark-haired man leaned on the concrete wall, shoving a hand down the pocket of his pants. “Who wouldn’t know the teachers’ favorite student? Straight A, little miss [Name].”

It was your turn to scoff. “Favorite,” you mocked, eyes rolling, “I didn’t know being the favorite meant not considering the fact that I didn’t know the deadline was 5 days ago without anyone else informing me.”

A smirk blossomed on his stupidly handsome face. “For once you didn’t get away with something, huh?”

“Didn’t get away? I didn’t know! I had no idea! It’s not my fault.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s true.”

“If you say so,” he chuckled, pushing himself off the wall and taking two steps back, eyes still on you. He winked, then turned around. The silence in the hallway felt deafening as you stood there, but the quick footsteps of his figure walking back towards you eats up the quiet. “Or on second thought,” he says, tapping a foot on the floor, “I can excuse you to the teacher about your late paper.”

It seemed like the tears of frustration pooling at the sides of your eyes retreated back to your tear glands, ears more than ready to hear out whatever his proposition was.

“If you act as my fake girlfriend for a Christmas dinner with my family, I’ll tell the teacher that I tricked you about the deadline.”

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “And that’s going to work?”

“Have you seen me, doll? I’m that boy your teacher refers to as a bad influence.”

“You should not be hanging out with people like him, [Name.]”

Mrs. Nakamura’s disappointed tone does nothing to stop the smile spreading on your face, though you tried to suppress it to not come off as suspicious. You’re nodding your head like you’re agreeing with her, knowing that that will not happen any time soon because you have a Christmas dinner with your boyfriend’s family in less than three weeks.

“Go on then,” your teacher waved her hand, “you aren’t marked as late but remember what I told you. If you keep that boy around you, trouble’s sure to follow.”

The hallway didn’t feel as dark and lonesome as it did earlier. It’s surely not because of the other person walking along with you. You’d like to think that, but a part of you knew you might just be lying. And it was stupid, really. Were you really harboring a crush over him? You. . . don’t even know his name.

“What’s your name?”

A choked laugh was the reply you got. “What? You don’t know me?”

“You’re familiar. I just can’t put a name on you,” you shrugged.

“Touya. Todoroki Touya,” he answered, grimacing. “But call me Dabi. That’s what my friends call me.”

“Are you saying we’re friends?” You grinned, looking up at him. He was tall, okay. So much more taller than you. You barely reached his shoulders.

“Technically, you’re my girlfriend, so no. We are not friends.”

You decided technicalities weren’t so bad when Dabi almost never left your side. The sudden (and quite cliché yet comic) pair you two made didn’t go unnoticed by the teachers. Mrs. Nakamura reminded you every single day about Dabi and his troubles. You aren’t aware what kind of troubles Dabi is associated in yet, but you’d like to think you’ll get there.

When you agreed to pretend to be his girlfriend, you didn’t think it would be this kind of long-term thing. You thought that maybe he’ll leave you alone after that day and just hit you up again on the day of the dinner, but you were so wrong.

You’ve never liked being wrong as much as you did about him.

“Stop fussing, my mom’s going to love you.”

He’s said that for the fourth time now. You’re making him more antsy than you are with your bouncing leg and deep sighs every ten seconds.

“And your dad?” You glare at him, wiping your clammy hands on your jeans and bouncing your leg again. He rolls his eyes as an answer.

In the short, three weeks you’ve gotten to know Dabi, you learned a lot about him. One, he hates his father passionately. Two, the teachers don’t really like him (but that sounds so mean when worded like that so you like to think he just isn’t the favorite student.) Three, he’s allergic to fish. Four, he pays attention to every single thing you say. Five, he’s actually the eldest out of the four Todoroki children and lastly, (this is more about you than him) maybe you let your little crush fester more than you planned.

You’ve had to berate yourself multiple times that he is not your boyfriend. You and Dabi are not in a real relationship. This is all a product of your grades being saved and an arrangement to fill up an empty seat at his family’s dinner for Christmas.

“What if your sister doesn’t like me,” you say meekly, “or your brother. And your other brother.”

Dabi shifts on the bench you both are sitting on to face you properly, placing a warm hand over your sweaty ones. “Stop it. They’re going to love you.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes but really, you’re just having a hard time making your brain function properly to process a reply when his hands are there, on top of yours, warm and soothing. It makes your heart do a little happy dance inside your chest that you know it should not be doing, but you can’t help it.

You’re way too deep into this hell, and you don’t know how you’ll take it when he cuts you off after you both benefit from this arrangement you have.

When Dabi pulls you up to stand up before he walks you home, you try to remember how his hands felt against yours.

“You look nice.”

Nice. You had to rummage through your closet for this halter dress, the most decent thing you can find that can fit for a Christmas dinner. It’s 6 PM on the 24th of December and even though this isn’t how you expected to spend the night before Christmas, here you are anyway.

“You look nice too,” you compliment, taking in how Dabi is wearing an actual pair of decent slacks and a button up. A nervous laugh bubbles out of your throat. “You said it was a simple dinner date so I was kind of expecting you to just show up in one of your old, ragged jeans, you know?!”

He quirks his head to the left, the sides of his lips turned up. Dabi offers you his hand as you descend the few steps from your apartment door. “It was,” he says, “but my mom made me wear this when I said I’ll bring a girl over.”

“Haven’t you brought a girl over before?”

A mischievous smile spreads over Dabi’s face, a thumb pressing a gentle pressure on the back of your hand. “No. You’re special because you’re the first one.”

Great. It’s not like you’re not nervous enough about meeting the Todorokis. He just has to tell you you’re the first girl his family will meet. What makes it worse is that you aren’t really Dabi’s girlfriend. It seems a little selfish on both of your parts to let the rest of his family get to know you and then you’ll never see them again because, well, this arrangement can’t last forever, can it?

“And you have a car?” You gasp, eye zeroing in on the sleek, black vehicle parked across the street where you both are heading. “You have a car?”

He chuckles, shaking his head side to side. “This is my dad’s, actually.” He says it again with an eye roll, opening up the passenger door for you. “He only made me use it to impress you.”

“Like I’m not impressed enough?” You huff out a laugh, palms gliding over the dashboard.

“Impressed by what?”

You, you’d like to answer, but for the sake of your sad excuse of a relationship, you keep your mouth shut.

“Things.”

The ride to their place was filled with back and forth banter from you and Dabi. He’s tried to calm you down when a new wave of nervousness surged within you but as you stand in front of their door with hands sweating an entire Pacific ocean, it’s obvious his attempt didn’t work.

“Calm down,” Dabi says, forehead scrunched as he watches you fiddle with the skirt of your dress. You’ve been standing there for about two minutes now and if your goal is to make your nervousness rub off on him, then you’re doing a pretty good job.

“Is my hair okay?” You fuss over some more, smoothing out the unruly strands that weren’t even there. “Is my face－?”

Dabi grabs your hands in his, calloused fingers wrapping around yours. The words die in your throat as you look up at him with wide eyes, mind blanking out at the warmth on your palm.

“You look beautiful, okay? If you touch your hair or smooth your skirt one more ti－.”

“I knew I heard you guys!”

An enthusiastic voice of a girl almost the same height as you rings through your ears and you look over to see his sister, Fuyumi, white and red hair parted in the middle and over her shoulders. You’ve seen her in some pictures in Dabi’s phone because you’re in that stage where you can just casually unlock and go through Dabi’s phone. (You haven’t seen anything unusual yet, just some candid pictures of you that you have no idea how he took. Bless your poor heart after you discovered that album dedicated just for you.)

Fuyumi places her hands on her hips, smiling brightly at you. “I thought Touya was just lying about you to escape the marriage arranged for him but turns out he isn’t.” She opens the door wider for you and Dabi. “Come in. Mom’s been waiting for you.”

The Todoroki household is neat. Minimalist. You aren’t sure if it’s spacious or it’s an illusion due to the lack of decorations inside. Fuyumi immediately hugs you after you and Dabi are completely inside, and she leads you away to meet Natsuo and Shouto. The sight of Natsuo startles you at first. He looks exactly like how you envisioned Dabi to be if he didn’t have scars. And seriously, what’s up with this family having scars? You noticed a dark crimson circling Shouto’s right eye.

Mrs. Todoroki is the most welcoming of them all, if not as much as Fuyumi. Her hand immediately went to your hair, patting softly and smiling delicately at you.

“I never imagined the day would come when Touya finally brings home a girl,” she whispers. The sight of her eyes getting glassy is enough to make your own gloss over, though it’s for an entirely different reason. How cruel can you and Dabi be to pretend and lie like this in front of his mom?

“Oh, please don’t cry! Did I make you cry?” She laughs tearfully, squeezing your shoulder. You choke out a laugh at her reaction, shaking your head no.

“I leave her alone for five minutes and you already made her cry?” Comes Dabi’s voice at the entryway of the kitchen, his tall frame blocking the path. He walks over to where you and Rei are standing, placing a warm hand on the small of your back. “What did mom say to make you cry?”

Rei sniffles and you dab a finger under your eyes, trying to keep your tears at bay. “Nothing,” you reply, unconsciously leaning back on his chest as you keep your emotions in check. In front of you, Rei has a fond look in her eyes as she watches Dabi tuck a strand of hair behind your ears and your wobbly smile directed at her son.

Your little moment is ruined when the front door shuts close with a loud rattle. Dabi tenses behind and you crane your neck enough to see across the living room a tall and broad man with bright red hair.

“That’s your father,” Mrs. Todoroki sighs.

The food is good but the dinner is awkward. Todoroki Enji made sure that either you nor Dabi will be able to sit through tonight peacefully.

“I’m surprised you managed to stick around my son this long,” Enji rumbles, looking at you briefly before going back to his meal. Four months. That’s what you and Dabi came up with for your pretend relationship. You’ve been dating for four months and you both knew each other after getting paired up for a History project. It’s not much of a lie since you did meet because of History.

“I’m surprised Dabi managed to stick around me this long,” you reply nervously, trying to make light of the situation. It seems you only made it worse when Enji’s sharp eyes bote onto yours.

“Dabi?” He inquires, head tilting to the side. The rest of the Todorokis are quiet except him. “You call him that?”

You nod, stomach churning. Any time now and you might just throw up. “You call him by that name, huh?” He chuckles hollowly, shaking his head. “Imagine my surprise when I saw you here, much less as Touya’s infamous girlfriend. If I didn’t know better, he just hired you as a fake girlfriend to run away from tradition.”

Tradition. Right. Dabi has mentioned to you once that his parents were arranged. He’s told you how he knows his father doesn’t really love his mom. You know about the abuse and the way he treats his family.

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong because what Dabi－,” you pause, turning briefly to look at him, “Touya. What Touya and I have is pretty much real.”

Enji scoffs, a large, heavy palm slapping on the smooth surface of their mahogany table. “Tell me that again when you’re still here a year from now.”

“Sure,” you smile, cheeks aching with how forced it is. It baffles you how Dabi’s father has all the authority in this household －how no one dares to object or talk back.

Todoroki Enji decides to surprise when deep chuckles start escaping his lips. “You,” he points a finger at you, “I like you. You’re brave. Not a single person in this household can face me like that. You’re too good for that boy,” he nods over Dabi’s direction. From your peripheral, you can see just how tight Dabi’s hands are clenched, and you reach over to place one over his.

“Actually, he’s too good for me,” you quip back. You have no idea where this sudden surge of confidence is coming from, but that doesn’t matter. You need to say what you have to say. You wouldn’t be seeing this family ever again after this anyways. “Touya is actually a good man. He’s more than what meets the eye. Maybe you’ll know that if you paid enough attention to him － and all your children, honestly.”

There’s no taking back what you just spewed out. Too stunned, you aren’t aware of the smug smirk and raised eyebrows Dabi is sporting. You don’t see the way Natsuo is trying to fight off his smile. Mrs. Todoroki and Fuyumi have a hand in their faces and Shouto, for the first time since you arrived, looks at you wholly and quite in awe. With your blood rushing in your ears and heart beating erratically, you open your mouth to excuse yourself, but Dabi beats you to it.

“Now if you would just excuse us.” And he’s tugging on your hand. You whisper out a quiet “I’m sorry,” when you pass by Rei, and you’re out of the front door.

“So,” you grin, hugging the mug of hot chocolate to your chest with your feet tucked beneath you. “On a scale of one to ten, how good was I at ruining your family’s dinner?”

After that whole dinner fiasco, you both just decided to go home to your apartment. Dabi is currently sprawled over the other end of your couch, his feet perched on the coffee table (you told him three times already to put it down) and three of his shirt buttons are undone. He’s got his own cup of hot chocolate on his hand, the other playing with the frills of your throw pillow.

“An eleven,” he grins back at you. He leans over and places his mug on the table. “That took guts.”

You nod. “It did. It just didn’t sit right with me how he talked about you like that, like － I remember you telling me how he used to be all over you as a child, but after Shouto was born, he neglected all of you. He isn’t － That’s not － What kind of father does that?” You sigh, groaning when you remember Rei and the rest of his siblings had to witness that.

“That is so embarrassing. I’m pretty sure your mom hates me now.”

“Trust me,” Dabi chuckles, sitting upright and moving closer to you, “she does not. You should have seen Natsu. He was about to lose it.”

“Still,” you press, throwing him a dirty look. “Who talks like that to their boyfriend’s dad on the first meeting?”

Dabi stares at you, turquoise eyes brighter than ever. “So I’m your boyfriend now?”

You’re pretty sure your heart just skipped a beat at that. “I mean, t-technically. Right? That was － That was what we － That was what we were pretending to be.”

Reality dawns on you again. This is all pretend. No matter how warm Rei and his sibling welcomed you, no matter how much Rei adored you, you’ll never see them again. This is a one time thing － something beneficial for the two of you. And as much as it breaks your heart that you got attached to Dabi that fast, you try to hide your sadness by saying, “at least I won’t see them again, so technically, talking back to your dad is fine.”

“Do you want to though?”

“I － What?”

Dabi leans closer. “Do you want to stop pretending?”

You don’t answer. You can’t answer. “Is this a trick question?”

He goes closer. The tips of his hair are grazing your forehead. Even this close, Dabi seems to be looming over you. “I wouldn’t mind making it real.”

“I really don’t want to see your father again,” you whisper. Dabi barely closes the gap between the two of you, nose touching yours.

“We can arrange that.”

more notes: tbh this kind of strayed, uh, kinda far from the bad boy x straight a student au but that’s just because most of what i plan ends up straying kind of far from the original idea. but never mind that, i’m happy with how this turned out. EXCUSE ME THAT LAST LINE? WITH THE ARRANGE THING? HELLO? AM I GIVING MYSELF TOO MUCH CREDITS? I MIGHT BE, BUT I DON’T CARE. also ze (´ ▽｀) if you ever get tagged by me on another dabi fic, it’s just me making up for this late post i am sorry.

#dabi x reader #dabi #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi scenarios #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha angst #bnha fluff #omfg my first dabi fic bye

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

Text

I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair

I reached that 500 followers everyone! So in celebration of all the people who I love dearly, this is the first part of my 10 things I hate about you series that I’m doing.

Heads up that the next part might take a while to post, especially since I’ve been posting the work I get each week, y’all see the amount of stuff I have to do. Part two is already started, but it’s just gonna be a minute before it’s ready.

I hope you guys like it, and thank you again for 500 followers 💛💛💛

Read the whole series: I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

________________________

“How long are we going to keep dancing around the fact that you and I are meant for each other?”

“How long is it going to take you to understand that I hate so much about you?”

-------------

“Alright, chica, are we meeting the guys there, or are we stopping by their place? What’s the plan for tonight?” Evelina asks, sitting down on the couch next to you.

“Last I heard, we were meeting them at their place but if you don’t get ready fast enough, we have to meet them there,” you tell her, lifting her off the couch before she can get too comfortable and make you late.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, your other best friend texting you a stupid meme that he found online, followed by a sexual innuendo that was normal for your friendship. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how he talked to you, a stupid smile covering your face as you drag Evelina to her room in the hopes that she’ll get ready in a timely manner.

“Is that your man?” she asks, sitting down in front of her mirror, hopefully, to start her makeup.

“He’s not my man,” you protest, not tearing your eyes off your phone, responding to him with an equally snarky and somewhat crude response.

“You’re sexting him as we speak. I can tell, you have that stupid grin on your face that you only get when it’s him replying to you,” she fires back, starting on her makeup. God you hoped she wouldn’t put much on tonight; you were supposed to be meeting the guys in half an hour at one of their houses.

Her comment, however, makes you look up from your phone. “I don’t think you know what sexting is. I am fully clothed. This is not sexting.”

“I will look up the definition of sexting and make us late. But, are you really wearing that tonight?” she asks you, making eye contact with you through her mirror just in time for her to see you roll your eyes. “Take something from my closet; if you’re going to see him tonight then you need to be wearing something better. You get up from her bed in a huff, going to her closet to try to find something there that was remotely your style. Evelina’s clothes were great, they just weren’t things that you would wear. “And you don’t need clothing off just to consider it sexting.”

“He’s literally just my other best friend. Maybe you’re jealous that I’m closer to him than I am to you!” you yell to her from her closet. “And hurry up with the makeup or I’m picking out your outfit.”

“That’s mean,” she says, a slight dig on your sense of style, or lack thereof. “I just need my eye makeup, calm down.” She leaves you in silence to rummage through her wardrobe. You hope that her non-follow up meant that she had dropped the conversation topic about your admittedly weird relationship with him.

She eventually meets you in her closet, pulling out the perfect outfit for herself in a matter of seconds while you struggle to find something. There was a reason why you were wearing the jeans and sweater you already had on; you didn’t like anything else at this point. “What about this?” she asks, handing you a crop top and a flannel to go over it. You give her an unsure look, not really wanting to change at it was. “Come on!” she begs, “This is so much sexier than what you have on now.”

“Why do I need to be sexy?” you argue, taking the clothes from her and changing into them anyway.

She rolls her eyes, knowing that the two of you have the same conversation nearly every week. “You literally sext him constantly,” she repeats in a sing-songy voice.

“It’s not sexting!” you say at the same time, her mimicking you with a slightly higher pitched voice than the one you already make. “You clearly like him. You never come home with me when we go out with them.”

“Maybe that’s because I go home with someone else.”

She laughs, calling your bluff, “You go home with the same curly-haired boy every single week. Admit it: you’re in love with Matthew and he’s in love with you.”

“We’re. Just. Friends,” you argue again, going out to see how the outfit looks on you. “Are you sure this looks alright?” As much as you hated the idea of the crop top, revealing as much skin as you did, she was right that it looked better on you than the sweater.

“Something’s missing,” she says, standing behind you. “And you literally send me a Snapchat from his bed every weekend. He’s never wearing a shirt in those snaps, I might add.”

She leaves you to stare at yourself in the mirror. She could not be more wrong about your feelings for him: he was your best friend, that was it. “He just sleeps without a shirt, the same way you don’t wear pants when you sleep. That’s right, I know you put those shorts on when you wake up.”

“We’re roommates. You know everything about me. That’s not a weird thing to know,” she says. “Why are you so stubborn to admit that you like him?”

“I hate way more about him than I like,” you try to counter. The same argument every week meant that you were running out of original ideas about how to tell her the same thing.

She comes out of her closet, holding a pair of black wedge booties, shoving them in your hands. “Name one thing you hate about him.”

“I hate the way he wears his hair. He’s got amazing curls and yet he lets them hang over that weird side shave of his? Either have it shaved like he did when he was drafted, or go full curls. Pick one.”

She rolls her eyes, getting her own shoes on as your phone buzzes on her bed. “That’s weak. He’s also texted you five times in the last ten minutes.”

“Probably because he’s wondering why we’re running late, even though he knows you’re never on time for anything.” She tosses you your phone. You see the messages asking you where you are, telling you to just meet them there because the guys got too antsy waiting for the two of you to be on time for once. “That’s something I hate about you: you’re always late,” you tell her, hoping that she would drop the subject.

“Join the club. So does my mom.” She gets up, pulling you up with her and admiring the two of you in the mirror before turning to face you. “If you can think of ten things that you hate about Matthew Tkachuk, ten legitimate things that overpower your ability to love him, then I will drop the subject of you and him dating entirely until you bring it up yourself.”

You look at her, trying to figure out if she were serious or not. You loved Evelina more than anyone, definitely more than you loved Matthew, who you didn’t love at all. But her biggest fault was her constant need to gossip. “Does the hair thing count? And how long do I have to come up with the list?”

“Fine. And I’ll give you a month, starting now. In one month, if you don’t have nine more reasons for hating him, then you’re going to hear about how you and him should be together until you get married. If not, then you have to ask him out on a date.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to have to ask him out if you can’t give her the ten satisfactory reasons. But, come on, you could think of so many things you hated about him, just none are coming to mind. “Deal,” you decide, grabbing her hand to lead her out the door.

“You will get married to him, though. I’ll be maid of honor obviously.”

“Keep this up and you won’t even be invited, and neither will Matthew because I won’t be marrying him.”

“We both know that you’re going home with him tonight,” she says, referencing the point she made earlier.

You couldn’t go home with Matthew tonight, and you knew it. If you didn’t have someone else to go home with, then you would have to, though. Or you could just go to your actual home. Pulling up your messages, you type out a message to Matthew: ‘Unless we can both find someone we’re interested in, then we go home with each other alright?’

‘So, both of us go home with someone or we go home with each other?’

‘Yeah, sound good?’ You didn’t care if he wanted that or not. You had to convince Evelina that you weren’t interested in Matthew, first with the list, second with going home with someone else.

‘Just come home with me, like you always do. We can do something different tonight if you’re interested?’ he replies, earning an eye roll from you.

‘Like what?’

‘We obviously both know what we want from each other’

‘Haha, no.’

‘Sad but fine :(’ he sends. Staring at his phone, the three dots appearing and disappearing as you try to find the words to say to him, he wanted nothing more than to be the one who took you home tonight.

You and Evelina get to the bar, not really wanting to see the boys. As soon as Matthew saw you, you knew he would have his hands all over you, but that was it. He would never try to kiss you or anything, even if he wanted to. Even if you were oblivious to the fact that he wanted to.

The entire thing was just confusing. You loved the relationship you had with him, but you knew it was never going to go anywhere. You didn’t want it to. You just had to find someone else to go home with tonight. Ideally, you would fall in love with them and never have to think about Matthew as more than your friend for the rest of your life.

Scanning the bar, you couldn’t see anyone that remotely interested you, other than the usual suspects. The boys had led you to a bar that you’ve frequented enough times that the bartenders knew your drink order on sight. It also meant that you’ve seen the patrons of the bar enough times to know that unless someone new walked through that entrance door tonight, you were going home with Matthew. Unless you could convince one of his teammates to go home with. Maybe you could go home with Elias? Or Noah, worst case.

The same group of friends that was there every weekend was sitting in the front corner, a group of college students who were probably underage sitting in the back, some wine moms probably talking about how horrible their husbands are for buying the wrong brand of designer purse for their birthday presents were sitting in the front. The guys and now Evelina for that matter were nowhere to be seen, meaning they were in the back room, probably hoarding the pool table, like they did every time you guys came here. Not seeing the guys also meant not seeing Matthew.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t see you. As soon as Evelina bounced into the room, his mind was occupied with the thought of finding you. Then when she told him that you were dressed in some of her clothing? He could feel himself going crazy trying to picture what you were wearing, knowing some of the outfits he had seen your roommate in. All he had to do was convince you not to go home with another guy. That was going to be easy, right? He stands by the bar, out of your line of site, just to admire how you looked. Evelina knew damn well what she was doing when she picked that outfit for you. She had to know seeing you in that would drive Matthew crazy like it was.

You nearly forgot about him, thinking only of your options of who you could go home with when you felt him come up behind you, your entire body tensing up as his hands snaked their way around your waist, pulling you close to him. Your breath stopped when his thumb hooked onto the belt loop of your jeans. He leaned in, his hot breath sending a chill down your spine, letting out a whisper, “Just come home with me tonight. I’m gonna make you cum so hard.”

You exhale, rolling your eyes, running your tongue over your teeth. You knew he would say something like that to you; it was the exact type of statement that you would text each other constantly. He couldn’t see the smirk on your face that you know would drive him crazy. “What, to my senses?” you whisper back. His hands drop long enough for you to turn around to face him, draping your arms on his shoulders just for him to pull you back in to him, leaving no space to escape with your back pressed to the bar counter. “Don’t be crude. You know our deal, Matthew. We just made it, you can’t be that forgetful.”

“And who do you see here that you would be remotely interested in besides me?” he teases. “The guy macking on a girl on the other end of the bar, or the college kids who may or may not be legal?”

“The night is young, Rat Man,” you call him the nickname you knew he despised, ruffling your hands in his hair, tangling your fingers in the curls. “Maybe instead of looking at me, try going for those girls that just came in already can’t seem to keep their eyes off you.” You motion to the table of girls sending you daggers just over Matthew’s shoulders.

“Why would I do that when I have you already right in my arms?”

You lean in, running your hands down his body. You could feel his heart racing at your touch, knowing you were driving him crazy with every word you uttered, “Because we both know that’s not something we do,” you tease him, getting an idea as the guys filter into the main bar area. “Worst-case scenario, I’ll go home with Elias.”

He pulls away from you, trying to hide the pain he was feeling from coming through on his face. “Why would you do that?”

“Have you seen Lindy? You know I’ve always had a crush on him, why not act on that?”

“Because I would hate that?” he questions. You had to know he would hate that. There’s no way you could be so oblivious to the fact that his ‘jokingly sexual texts’ weren’t joking for the most part, right?

“Maybe that’s why I do it,” you tease. Nope, you were oblivious. Even though Evelina had told you earlier, you thought she was lying. “So, where is he?”

Matthew bites his lip, debating on telling you where his teammate was or not. He couldn’t let you go home with Elias, but you know he’s single. He could just tell you that he didn’t come tonight, but then what happens when you spot him. What if he just said Lindy had started seeing someone recently? “I don’t know,” is all he can tell you. He can’t lie to you. Not if this was something that had the potential to make you happy.

“Then I’m gonna go find him,” you say, kissing him on the cheek and weaseling your way out from his grip. You were determined not to go home with him tonight. Evelina was wrong about the two of you being in love, and this was the first step in proving it. Actually, the second, the list was the first step. You just needed nine more things.

“What the hell was that?” Matthew hears a voice snap him out of the trance you sent him into while he watched you walk away to find his teammate. He looks next to him, Evelina sitting there. He could not read the girl to save his life: was she mad? Was she actually confused? The girl only showed emotion with her voice. Either that or Matthew was just oblivious when it came to reading her.

“What are you talking about?” he pretends not to know, signaling to the bartender to get him another drink. If he had to watch you go home with his friend, he might as well be able to forget about it come morning.

She rolls her eyes at him. “I just had this conversation with her. How are you both so dumb?” she says off to the side before sighing and looking at Matthew, “You clearly both love each other.”

Matthew looks at her, the panic written all over his face. “Wh-what?” he stammers out. No one knew he’s liked you for a while now. At least, he hadn’t told anyone. Was he that obvious? Of course he was obvious, he blatantly flirted with you all the time. “We are not in love with each other.”

“Oh, stop lying, everyone but Y/N knows that’s not true. You two will be going out on a date by the end of the month,” she says, staring down at her drink. The confidence in her voice was baffling, considering Matthew didn’t even think he could ever convince you to actually date him. How did Evelina do it?

“You’re one of the first people to tell me that I’m an idiot so I really need you to give me more explanation. We both know I can never figure out what you’re saying to me.”

She sighs, taking a long sip of her drink. “I made a bet with her: if she can come up with ten things that she hates about you by the end of the month, then I’ll stop talking about you two for the rest of your lives. If not, then y’all are going on a date.”

Matthew could feel himself starting to panic. “Only ten things? Are you joking? There are at least five guys in the NHL who could think of fifty. My own teammates probably have thousands. My dad probably hates more things about me than he likes!” he starts to spit out. This was not going to end well, and he knew it.

“Oh, come on,” she says, rolling her eyes yet again. “If she really didn’t like you, then she would have come up with something better than the way you shave the side of your head like that.”

He subconsciously lifts his hand to run it along the shaved sides she was talking about. “That’s all she could think of?”

“That’s it. I know Y/N better than anyone: she’s going to try to think of ten things and she’s not going to come up with them and she’s finally going to realize that she loves you.”

“This is either going to be great or awful.”

“Which one do you want it to be?”

“Great, obviously, but how are you sure it’ll end up with the two of us together?”

She looks at him and just smiles. He couldn’t tell if it was because she was trying not to laugh at how dumb he was or because she was genuinely happy or hopeful. “She’s going to figure out that you like because and love despite. It’s a saying for a reason.”

Before he can say anything, the two of them are interrupted by the sound of you and the rest of the boys roaring with laughter. They both find the group through the crowd to see them all huddled around Elias going on a rant about something. Evelina drags Matthew over, plopping him down next to you, leaving you sandwiched between him and Elias.

“What’s going on?” Evelina asks once he finishes his rant.

“We’re playing ‘don’t get me started,’” you explain, subconsciously settling into Matthew as he drapes his arm behind you. “Elias was just talking about the idea of a ‘puck bunny.’” Evelina raises her eyebrow, egging you on to continue, “He thinks the concept is dumb and that women should be allowed to like the sport without being accused of wanting sex and all that jazz. We love a feminist,” you coo, playfully nudging Elias as he smiles. Matthew could feel himself going crazy at the site of it, putting his arm around you as if to mark you as his.

Evelina raises her glass, “Thank god, you’re a good man, Lindy,” toasting to him before setting her glass down. “Who’s next?”

“I guess it’s me?” you say. “Someone give me a topic.”

“Gifted Education Program in US education,” Evelina says, already knowing your feelings about it. The alcohol in your system was only going to make the rant better.

“Don’t get me started about the Gifted Education Program,” you start, already feeling yourself get heated even though there was a smile on your face, playing perfectly into the game that you and the guys had started to play. “It had to be one of the worst things, if not the worst thing that has ever happened to me. And all because of a fucking standardized test that I took when I was seven years old. What the hell kind of school system tells a child they’re ‘gifted’ because of a stupid test that they don’t care about? I mean, if Matthew here went to school with me and took the same test,” you start, looking over at him, feeling the heat rush to your face as you prepared for his reaction to what you were about to say, “He could have guessed on the entire test and been labelled as ‘gifted.’ Does he seem like someone who would be ‘gifted’ academically?”

The guys laughed around you as the two of you just stared at each other. Part of him hated how easily you were able to chirp him, knowing that he could never find it in him to chirp back.

“I mean, what the hell does the gifted program even do? It pulled me out of class and made me miss instruction time which I then had to teach myself what I missed. And for what? To be a defense lawyer for the Big Bad Wolf from the Three Little Pigs? I didn’t even get to plan what I said by myself: I was given a script and had to memorize it. How is that gifted education? What does that promote? When we read The Indian in the Cupboard? When we did math problems that we were told high schoolers had issues solving? Or, how about the way we wrote a newspaper every single week but since we only worked on it for thirty minutes, we never published a single issue. I don’t even know what my section of the paper was.”

You keep going on about the gifted program, the guys laughing more and more. Matthew couldn’t focus on what you were saying, he was too busy focused on your hand, which you didn’t even realize kept grazing his thigh, driving him crazy, just like everything else you did. He pulls out his phone, searching for Evelina’s contact.

‘Are you sure this list is going to work in my favor?’

She snaps out of listening to your rant, trying to catch her breath as she looked at her phone. Looking between you and Matthew, she smiles at him, the first look he was able to properly read: it will.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagines #ratty matty #calgary flames #calgary flames imagines #flames #flames imagines #hockey #hockey imagines #nhl #nhl imagines

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babbushka · 3 years

Text

Loverboy

Kylo Ren x Reader x Flip Zimmerman

3.5k; NSFW (Threesome [M/M/F], costumes/lingerie, dom/sub undertones [Dom!Flip, sub!Kylo, sub!reader], PIV, anal sex, anal fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, begging, crying during sex, creampie/come-dump, hair pulling, birthday sex)

Kinktober Masterlist || Available on AO3

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“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Flip says over the phone. His voice is clear through the line, he isn’t whispering, isn’t hushed. He must not be at work then, Kylo thinks, as the empty static crackles for a moment, before Kylo hears your laughter in the background, and his chest warms. He hears Flip take in a drag of his cigarette, before the detective instructs, “Be outside in 10.”

The line goes dead, and the second he puts the phone away he sprints up to his bedroom, a whirlwind of slapdash cleaning. A surprise meant only one thing, meant something special, real special.

A surprise meant you.

The clock ticks and Kylo pulls himself together, racing to the front step to wait. Flip likes it when Kylo follows orders, and Kylo likes following orders for him, and maybe just maybe if he’s lucky…well. No need to go thinking ahead, he holds his breath as Flip’s instantly recognizable truck pulls around the corner, your happy face pressed against the window and waving.

“Happy birthday Kylo!” You throw your arms around his neck, smiling into the spot just underneath his jaw.

“Thanks sweets.” He hums low in his throat, as Flip leans against his truck, smoking his cigarette. “What, don’t tell me I get her all to myself tonight?”

“Not exactly.” A little smile quirks up around the camel, and Flip sticks his hands in his pockets, “You kids go have some fun, I’ll be back in a little while I just have to pick up some…stuff.”

“Oh are we…?” Kylo sucks in a sharp breath then, hoping hoping hoping, and Flip can tell how desperate for it he is when he smirks and replies,

“Yeah, we are.”

Flip turns to you and tugs on the back of your coat playfully, asking you for a, “Kiss?”

With a great big grin you give it to him, a smacking smooch right on the lips, and when you pull away Flip gets back into his truck. He drives away, and then standing in the dark of night out on the front step, it’s just the two of you. Kylo can get a hint of cleavage underneath your coat, and he ushers you inside knowing how chilly the November air can be.

“Happy birthday.” You beam up at him, walking with him across the threshold into the cozy homey atmosphere of Kylo’s house.

“You said that already baby.” Kylo locks the door behind you, knowing Flip’s got a key. You all have keys to each other’s places, it just made things easier. Made sharing you easier.

“Well I’m gonna say it again.” You bite at your lip, taking a step closer to him with each repetition of the words, “And again…and again…and again.”

Until you’re within his reach, his grasp. Kylo can smell your perfume off your skin, and your coy smile is just begging to be kissed, but he’s curious, he wants to know why you haven’t taken off your coat, wants to know just how far his surprise really goes.

“What’re you hiding under there? C’mon, you can show me.” Kylo pulls on the sash around your waist, and you swat at his hands with a knowing chuckle.

“Close your eyes.” You tell him, and just like with Flip he can’t not obey your every command, so his eyes close and he listens to the shuffle of your fabric as the coat slumps to the floor, keeps them closed until you tell him, “Okay, open.”

He should’ve been sitting down for this, he thinks, when he sees your body in full view. You’re dressed up like a very sultry sexy rabbit; a bunny-ear headband nestled into your hair, and mesh panties that have a puffball of white right on your ass. You’re not wearing a bra, and Kylo has a hard time breathing, trying to take you all in.

“Oh, shit.” Is all he can manage, as he does sit down then, right on the couch. His cock fills out fast in his jeans, and his palms go clammy from wanting to touch you squeeze you pinch you bruise you.

“Do you like it?” You ask, giving him a little show by tuning and giving him a 360 view.

“You’d give those magazines a run for their money, honey.” Kylo whistles low, and your entire face lights up at his rhyme. “Come sit real close to me and let me get a good look at you.”

Slinking forward, you straddle his hips on the couch. He licks his lips and smooths his hands all over you, feeling how warm you are, how soft. Even the rough spots are soft, and Kylo has to swallow hard to stop himself from waxing poetic over how much he loves you.

“You can fuck me, if you want. He won’t get mad.” You whisper, nuzzling your nose against his.

Kylo knows you mean Flip, because of course you do, you always do. Kylo loves you, but so does Flip, and Flip and Kylo love each other, and though none of it makes sense, it’s all perfectly clear to him. Flip’s not here though, and Flip usually likes to be here, he usually gets real sour when you and Kylo have fun without him. But…

“Maybe I like when he gets mad.” Kylo leans in to kiss you, closing the little gap between your mouths, “Maybe I want to wait for him, to watch me fuck you.”

He knows the words will get you riled up, he knows they’ll make you squirm in his lap. He can feel you’re wet already, can feel the heat between your legs just from how badly you want to get fucked. Kylo wonders if Flip fucked you before he brought you over, some pre-game action like he sometimes likes to do when it’s going to be a long night.

“Whatever you want, birthday boy.” You bite down on his lower lip and suck it into your mouth, worrying it between your teeth.

“Cut it out.” Kylo’s nose crinkles, and you pull away concerned.

“What?” You worry that maybe you’ve hurt him accidentally, but no that isn’t it, so he shakes his head.

“You’re makin’ me feel old.” Kylo pinches at your sides, makes you break into laughter just from the tickling he’s giving you, and you cup his cheeks with both your hands and squish his face.

“You are old.” You tell him solemnly, fighting back a smile so strong that Kylo rolls his eyes and smacks your thigh.

“Flip’s older.” Kylo points out, and you only shimmy your shoulders a little, your hard nipples brushing against Kylo’s black t-shirt.

“I like my men grown up. Kylo I’m so fucking horny right now that if you don’t stick something in me right now, I’ll cry.” You whine, and it’s Kylo’s turn to chuckle, hoisting you up with one big grunt and carrying you to the stairs.

“Oh I’ll get you crying; come on sweets, up to bed where you belong.” Warmth and love blooms in his chest when your arms and legs instinctively wrap around him, your bright laughter and yelps at being manhandled filling his otherwise quiet house.

When Flip comes back an hour later, he’s sufficiently wound up. Traffic was a bitch and no one knew how to drive, seemed like all the fuckin’ schmucks were directly in front of him on the way there and back. But he was back, and he lets himself in through Kylo’s door with Kylo’s key, the sound of springs creaking and thumping and moaning music to his ears.

“Oh – Kylo, mmm, Kylo that’s so good!” You’re loud, and your voice is raw enough that Flip knows you and Kylo have been going at it for a while.

Flip steps out of his boots and shucks off his jacket, keeps the little brown bag tucked under his arm as he goes up the stairs to join where you both are.

“Never get tired of this pussy, you hear how wet you are for me? What a good girl, fuck that’s good.” Kylo grunts and groans, the slick wet sounds of your cunt filling the air, getting louder and louder as Flip makes his way to the bedroom.

“Y-you’re so big, fuck you’re so big, you and your cock, fuck – oh! Yes!” You’re panting, and Flip just has to hang back and admire the view for a minute.

Your bunny ears are askew on your head, as your entire body bounces on the mattress, Kylo’s hips fucking into you hard and steady. He’s got one of your legs thrown over his shoulder, and Flip watches as your toes curl and uncurl sweetly, your hands grasping at the sheets. Your body is sweatslick, and your panties are ripped, and you’re the most beautiful woman Flip has ever seen, his own personal pornographic princess.

You catch sight of him through your half-lidded eyes, and you smile, a big beaming grin that makes Flip walk all the way into the room.

“What -- ?” Kylo turns his head out of confusion, before he realizes.

“Shh, it’s just me.” Flip says, voice deep and dark and making goosebumps break out over both you and Kylo.

“Hi Philly.” You gasp, back arching into Kylo’s touch as his hips begin to slow.

Flip shakes his head, unzips his jeans.

“Don’t stop.” He orders, and Kylo moans, his cock throbbing inside your cunt from the order.

Flip watches as the strong muscles in Kylo’s back ripple and flex, his arms caging your body in underneath him. He speeds up his pace, sweat dripping from his nose and landing in little splashes on your breasts. Flip licks his lips, wanting to lick up the sweat instead.

“I – oh fuck.” You wail, hot tears clinging to your pretty lashes. Flip strips the rest of the way, until he’s as naked as Kylo, and he climbs up onto the bed. Flip lays down on his side next to you, turns your face to his and slips his tongue in your mouth.

Kylo fucks your pussy as you and Flip make out, the hand that isn’t propping his head up cups at your breast and rolls your nipple between his fingers, making you hiccup against his mouth some more. It’s mesmerizing, Kylo thinks, your cunt gripping him like a vice, spasming and fluttering around him from the extra attention.

“How many have you gotten out of her?” Flip breaks the kiss to look at Kylo, who is having a very hard time forming words right now. Flip gently warns, “Answer me.”

“O-only three so far.” Kylo manages, drool dripping down from his clenched jaw as he focuses hard on pleasuring you and coming inside you, the only thing he ever wants.

“Get her to come again and you’ll get it.” Flip seems to read his mind, and Kylo moans and shuts his eyes tight, because he knows what it is, and he wants it so desperately.

You, meanwhile, are a babbling, blissed out mess. You look so pretty with tears staining your cheeks and your lips kiss bitten and swollen, your nipples shining in the low light from all the sweat and drool, the ears bent at such an angle that Flip can’t help but jerk off lazily watching your body get fuckin’ plowed.

“F-Flip hi honey, hi – oh! Kylo, yes, pleasepleaseplease.” You’re panting, gasping, moaning, voice high and raw in the back of your throat as your orgasm hits you, your back arching toes curling eyes pinching shut so tightly that they know you must be seeing stars, “Flip!”

“I’m right here honey-bunny,” Flip kisses you gently, kisses at your lips and cheek and nose and forehead, caressing and cupping your breasts as he whispers, “You’re being good for the birthday boy?”

“Mmmmmhmm, real good.” You tremble, eyes still shut, whole body going limp. Kylo kisses your ankle before letting your leg down, his own come pumping into you, hot and thick. You can feel it, can feel it spreading, joining the other load he dumped into your pussy not twenty minutes ago.

Kylo’s arms give out finally, and he thuds down onto your chest with a moan, more come spurting out of his cock. Flip smiles, tucks some of Kylo’s hair behind his ear and pats his bicep for a job well done. The silent praise makes Kylo’s cock twitch inside you, and you sigh from the feeling.

“Relax for me, don’t pull out.” Flip murmurs, leaving his spot on the mattress to move behind Kylo, draping his body across Kylo’s back.

Flip reaches into the brown paper bag and pulls out the first of his purchases, a generous bottle of lube, that he squirts out onto his hand and warms up. Once it’s no longer cold to the touch, Flip gets to work, easing the tip of his finger right into Kylo’s asshole. It’s easier like this, after Kylo’s already come a couple of times, he’s not so tense and it doesn’t take as long. Flip knows that the longer it takes, the more tense Kylo gets, and while he loves being mean to the big tattooed biker, he figures he’d better be sweet on Kylo’s birthday.

“Fuck your fingers are big.” Kylo groans, his cheek pressed right against your breast, kissing and licking up your sweat almost subconsciously.

You huff out a laugh, because you could empathize with Kylo on that – everything about Flip was large, but those hands of his? Out of this world. Your pussy warms Kylo’s cock and keeps him nice and hard, his hips doing little involuntary motions, rocking back on Flip’s fingers and forward into your cunt, sensory overload only just beginning.

“I know, how many do you want?” Flip asks, because it’s Kylo’s birthday, and he gets to choose.

“To take you? I’m going to need at least three.” Kylo moans out, and Flip grins, that’s exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Atta boy.” Flip kisses one of the freckles on Kylo’s back, and as Kylo’s body starts to writhe and buck as Flip thrusts his fingers in and out of Kylo’s ass, Flip takes his other hand and winds it into Kylo’s hair and yanks, with a harsh, “Keep your knees apart.”

Kylo moans, and you can feel a little more come oozing out of his cock into your pussy, making you smile. Kylo loves it when Flip’s a big mean dom, and looks like that’s exactly what he’s going to get. Flip bites down on Kylo’s shoulder, and Kylo sucks on your nipple, moans into your body as Flip manages two…then three thick fingers in and out of his lubed up hole.

There’s nothing but the sound of harsh breathing and moans for a while as Kylo’s body relaxes enough and gets used to Flip’s fingers, until Flip decides Kylo’s ready and he pulls them away entirely, nudging the head of his cock in its place.

“Fuck,” Kylo keens over, his dick fully hard again inside you, his hips wanting to move but not knowing which direction, his brain and spine alight with pleasure.

“Damn you’re tight,” Flip sinks his cock further into Kylo’s asshole, going slow and careful, making sure everything’s, “Good?”

“Yes!” Kylo replies quickly, his thighs shaking, biceps flexing as he pushes himself off your chest to hover over you again, “Yes, fuck, oh fuck – move, please? Please Sir – I – ”

“Beg louder.” Flip growls and yanks on Kylo’s hair again, and you moan from that, from how authoritative Flip can be.

“Ohhh fuck Flip, Flip – Sir, please move, please I’ll do anything, fuck me, fuck me hard Sir, please!” Kylo’s got no qualms about submitting to him, he wants it, he wants someone strong and capable like Flip to make him feel good, wants to please him the very same way he wants to please you, his perfect girl under him.

“Keep fucking her, give it to her, all of it.” Flip orders, and that’s a task that Kylo would rather die than disobey.

Flip thrusts in and out of Kylo’s hole, and with it, Kylo thrusts in and out of your pussy. It takes a couple minutes before the three of you find a perfect synchronization, but once you do it’s magic. Your eyes are rolling back into your head, your whole body shakes and you moan moan moan, as Flip tugs your leg up and over Kylo so he can pin you down in a position where he can fuck you deep.

The sounds are obscene, nothing but the slip and slide of come, of lube, of sweat and of tears. Chests heave and bodies fit together in a perfect sandwich, one that makes Kylo almost delirious with lust, bliss, pleasurepleasurepleasure.

“Kylo please, I want more, just a little more?” You sob, feeling perfectly filthy, getting fucked while Kylo gets fucked.

“I’m dead, I’m dead this is Heaven and I’m dead.” He speeds his hips up, and you throw your arms up over your head, your tits pressing together and bouncing in his face, the headband practically falling off your head as Kylo kisses you open-mouthed and wet.

“Hnnnggg,” You moan, losing the ability to speak as you come again, as pleasure crashes through you under the weight of your two boys, you shout and cry and come come come, and Kylo and Flip aren’t far behind.

“Be good. Good boys get to come in their bunny’s pussy, isn’t that right ketsl?” Flip pants down in Kylo’s ear, his balls smacking hard against Kylo’s ass.

“Uhhuhhh.” You’re no help really, but the way your face is so fucked out does the job enough to make Kylo turn his face and regard Flip with big brown eyes.

“Harder.” He pleads, and Flip smirks, leans down and kisses Kylo gently on the lips before smacking the back of his thighs loud enough for the noise the ricochet down the stairs. “Flip please, please I’ll fucking do anything, please – harder, faster, fuck it’s so good.”

Flip adjusts his angle just a bit and Kylo nearly collapses flat on his stomach, tears welling up in his eyes to match the salty mix on your cheeks, and he knows he’s found Kylo’s prostate. Once Flip’s found it, he doesn’t dare let up on it, dragging the full length of his cock over and over it as hard and fast as he can, his own muscles tensing up, his stomach fluttering and flexing from wanting to come. Flip gives you a look, and even through your glazed cloudly vision you know what it means.

“Eyes on me baby.” You mumble, caressing and rubbing Kylo’s chest and stomach with your nearly pleasure-numb hands, “Come in me, my pussy’s not full yet, pleasepleaseplease.”

“Fuck!” Kylo shouts, as Flip rails into him hard, as he rails into you, until you’re grinning with satisfaction, your brain sizzling like Pepsi-Cola, another hot load being forced into your already overflowing cunt.

Flip pulls out gently, and Kylo pulls out of you with as much effort as he can manage, his cock still coming and oozing thick hot white ropes onto your thigh. Come is already leaking and dripping out of your cunt but Flip only pushes it back in with his cock, assuming Kylo’s position above you and thrusting into you just long enough for him to come in your pussy too. He knows your body is sore and overwhelmed, he knows you’re fucked out of your mind, so he’s soft-spoken and gentle with you.

“Let me see.” His voice is a deep caress on your mind, and even though he sounds a million miles away from the waves of pleasure that sweep through you, you hear them when he tells you, “Legs open, ketsl.”

“Hi Philly.” You beam, your body so loose and limp and numb from pleasure that your legs fall open easily, only moaning a little bit when Flip pulls out and admires the creampie that he and Kylo left behind. He knows that Kylo did most of the work, but the night was still young, and Flip had more surprises in his little brown bag.

“Hi precious.” Flip watches the come ooze out of you, smiling at you and rubbing your thigh soothingly, feeling how it trembles under his touch. He turns to Kylo, who is trying to get his breath back from the fucking Flip gave him, and he hums out a warm laugh. “You did good, Kylo. I think you deserve another present.”

“There’s more?” Kylo’s eyes open wide, anticipation eager across his face.

Flip rummages around in the brown paper bag for the second purchase and surprise of the night, a vibrating plug that he tosses to Kylo. Even with a sex-addled brain, Kylo’s reflexes are sharp, and he catches the plug easily. You grin, you knowing slutty bunny rabbit you, and Kylo can feel his cock twitching again, impossibly horny, especially when Flip licks his lips and says,

“Oh, loverboy, we’re only just getting started.”

#kylo ren/reader #flip zimmerman/reader #kylo ren x reader #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman/you/kylo ren #kylo ren/you #flip zimmerman/you #flip zimmerman #blackkklansman #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren smut #modern kylo ren #flip zimmerman smut #my writing #adam driver fanfiction #adam driver character #adcu

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hpalways · 3 years

Text

Lyrical Mess || Venti

BARD Venti was someone you looked up to. Words would spill from his mouth like a waterfall, for he never ran out of lyrics and rhymes alike to sing about. You aspired to be like him, to one day have talent in bringing people together through music. Unfortunately, your mind was a little underwhelming in the creative department. Phrases and sentences jumbled up like a mess, trapping you in a sea ridden of any motivation whatsoever.

"The distant lands, the people, the trees, they all truly resonate in me!" he sang, filling your ears of the melody. He was currently sitting on the huge tree in Windrise, rocking back and forth on the branch. Meanwhile, you were on the ground and leaning against the bark, trying to write down anything that could be worth mentioning. However, the page was as blank as it could be, an empty void of nothingness. The quill in your hand shook and squeezed, because the frustration was beginning to take its toll.

"Venti, I can't think of anything! Don't you have any secrets that could help me?" you whined, pulling the ends of your [h/c] locks. Grabbing the lyre that was brought everywhere with you, you thrummed the strings of it, playing an ugly chord that halted his own singing. The golden instrument glimmered against the sunlight, nearly blinding your eyes. After spending almost all your savings on it one day, it easily became your most treasured item.

The male leaned forward from the branch, his two aqua ombre braids waving along with the wind. Green eyes on you, they crinkled as he grinned in excitement. In his usual white top and teal shorts with stockings, his style was enough to make him recognizable. Not only that, but he was as adorable as when you first met him. To have him by your side... well, you certainly looked like a nobody. "Well, why are you sitting there on the ground? Come up here and you'll get loads of more inspiration."

"Really?!" you exclaimed. Your gaze brightened as if you had met God and you quickly scrambled to your feet. He nodded, putting his hands on his hips in pride. "Okay. I'll go join you then." Rolling up the sleeves of your shirt, you knitted your brows together in perseverance. Readying for the climb ahead, you lifted your foot to take that first step.

Goodbye. You were ready to die. Venti had made it look so easy with those fast and flexible limbs of his, but you were trembling to the core at this moment. The tree was much taller and wonky than you expected, gnarly and dangerous for someone with no balance like you. Panting heavily, you tightened your hold on your lyre as you heaved yourself upwards one last time. You crashed on the spot beside the bard and hit the hollow trunk in annoyance. Flinching at the pain inflicted more-so on you, you rubbed your hands as you tried to settle down.

The view surely was nice. Mondstadt, the city of Freedom, could be seen from here. Meadows and small hills laid out across the board too, luscious and full of natural beauty. The color of it reminded you of Venti.

"I can't do this," you groaned, rubbing your face in weariness. "I'm too tired to even think."

"You quit too easily," he said, frowning. Feeling all ashamed suddenly, you drooped your head and sighed. There was nothing worse than getting critiqued by someone you looked up to. "Oh, I know! I have a few other secret spots to show you. What do you say, my friend?"

"Alright. I'll give it another shot."

Before announcing to you what he was about to do, he scooped you up with those nimbly arms of his and jumped straight off from the branch. A scream threatened to leave you, but you kept quiet as you held onto him for dear life. He was crazy! But that might just be the reason why he was so popular in Mondstadt.

With a thump! at the landing, Venti smoothly reached the ground with two legs still working. Carefully releasing you, he took out his own lyre from under his arm. It could not be said the same regarding you. Wobbly support below, you kneeled down and calmed your racing heart.

Once you gained your grounding again, that was when it was time to set off. Following the bard on his tail, you watched as the dirt path turned into pavement and then into bricks. "Mondstadt...? Are you sure this will be helpful?" you questioned, squinting at the mundane scene in front of you. Living here your whole life, it was all too familiar for you to believe you'd find anything here.

"Just trust me, [Y/N]!" he said, turning his head over his shoulder. Giggling softly, he returned to look ahead and marched onward.

You assumed it would be an unknown spot that could exhilarate you instantly. But of course, reality bit the dust. Standing in front of you was the local tavern, crowded of drunken adventurers. "You just wanted to stop by for a drink!" you said, whirling around to glare at the male.

He stuck a tongue out and winked, leaving you more infuriated. This was the guy you idolized so much? He was such a sham. "Trust me... trust me..." he repeated, pulling your arm with him. The door opened up and he slipped in, with you stumbling after him. His grip never once loosening, he waltzed towards the bartender and dropped coins of mora. "The usual, please!"

Securing a table to sit at, he set you down and sat directly from you. As you were about to spew words of insult, he beat the punch.

"I'm serious. This is one of my secret spots," he explained. He nudged his head at the back of the tavern, where an empty space cleared of tables took place. "I sometimes perform here and so whenever I come here, I would get a good amount of ideas."

He had a point. You had been there too when he performed here, intrigued and immersed by a new world introduced by him. Slumping your shoulders slightly, you mutely nodded in agreement, tapping the quill against your chin. He grinned at your reaction, as if he was relieved to have escaped your wrath.

As he sipped his drink in peace, you began to write down some ideas. It was silent at the table, but it was not uncomfortable or awkward. You had known Venti for quite some time... and though you still admired him tons, he became a dear friend. Ink met the parchment and you scribbled them down quickly, as if your life was on the line. This proceeded for a while until he slammed his first empty glass down. When showing the notebook, you fidgeted in your seat as you waited for his thoughts.

"Whisking her away, he drowned the walls. She said he said to come to the dock..." he read it out loud. His features tightened and he let out a nervous laugh. "Um... er... it's not bad... How about this?! Why don't you perform a song from Teyvat! Singing a song always inspires me. You can use the stage over there! I'm sure the customers would love a lovely song sung by the beautiful maiden [Y/N]."

"So it's bad," you deadpanned.

"It's not!" he argued, panic shown in his eyes. "It could use some improvement, but anything can be improve, you know?"

"You don't need to lie to make me feel better," you sighed, pulling yourself up from the seat. Lumbering up to the stage, you strummed the strings of your lyre, catching the attention of a few customers. Breathing in deeply, you closed your eyes and started to sing a song. The song you heard Venti sing a few times. The song your parents sang as they lulled you to sleep. The song that wasn't yours, but everyone's.

You were a fake. A lyrist who couldn't form her own words. A singer with no direction to turn to.

When the song ended, a round of applause exploded from the audience who were smiling in approval. They all enjoyed it, except you. Giving them a quick bow with a smile plastered on your face, you then exited the stage and rushed through the tables, passing Venti and straight out the door. Running to the gates and not stopping once until you were out in the wilderness again, you slumped to the ground in shame. Angry tears blurred your vision and you crumpled the poor grass upon your hands.

"You performed it perfectly..." he whispered, his small figure crouching down next to you. When did he get here? "What's upsetting you?"

"I messed up," you told him, glancing at the lyre in your hands. "I can't do a single thing right."

"No one noticed it."

"But... I did. It doesn't matter if no one else realized it, I know of my mistakes. And I'm so sorry Venti. I've been such a hindrance towards you today. You don't deserve listening to my complaints. Nor do you deserve cleaning after my mess." More tears slid out, slipping down your cheeks. "I just wish I was you."

A thumb swiped the droplets from your face, his skin warm to the touch. Startled, you watched him grow slightly sad. Why was he making that face? It looked so... empty... hopeless. He knew of something you didn't. "You don't want to be me, [Y/N], trust me. And I like you the way you are... so please, don't say that ever again." He straightened up and all traces of any misery was erased from his expression. "Let me cheer you up a bit! I can go sing a tune for you! I think that should do the trick for some inspiration."

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ssa-montgomery · 3 years

Text

every night I'm dancing with your ghost

Word Count: 1781

Summary: JJ is still struggling with Emily's "death" and keeps having nightmares, Emily is there to comfort her.

Characters: JJ x Emily

Warnings: Angst, LOTS of angst, canon level violence, Emily's "death" scene, blood, hurt/comfort

A/N: I would like to start this by saying, I'm sorry. Another Criminal Minds request! I may have gone a little overboard with the angst with this one but this is where my mind went as soon as I read the request and I just had to write it. Feel free to send me some fluffy prompts to make up for this xD I hope you enjoy it either way!

Prompt: “You’re okay. Breathe. Just breathe. Open your eyes. Come back. it’s okay. It’s over now. You’re okay. Wake up. Please wake up. Don’t do this to me. I love you so fucking much. Come back.”

Feedback is what motivates me to work so please let me know what you think! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated.

Taglist is open!

Masterlist

JJ broke away from the group following a faded map on the old warehouse wall down a corridor towards the opposite side of the building. She had entered with the rest of the team, following quickly behind the SWAT team that cleared the path in front of them but she was now only vaguely aware that there was anyone else in the building with her. Her mind was focused on one person and one person only. She wasn't even aware of her own actions as the fear took over every sense in her body. The sound of her footsteps echoing off the high walls and the hammering of her own heartbeat in her ears drowned out every other sound in the building. Her mind raced through every worst-case scenario and it felt like no matter how much she tried she couldn't slow down enough to draw a proper breath into her lungs. She skidded around a corner, grabbing at the wall to balance herself before she took the steps in front of her two at a time. She didn't flinch -not even taking a second to acknowledge it - as a sharp pain shot up from her ankle that she had landed on awkwardly when she hit the ground. Any pain was just something she could focus on after she'd found Emily. That was the one thing she was certain of, she needed to find Emily. Before it was already too late.

There was the sound of something heavy crashing to the ground at the end of the hall and without a seconds hesitation, JJ sprinted towards the noise. Her heart hammered against her ribs feeling like the pressure could break them at any second as she fought with the heavy metal door that led to the source of the sound. Finally, the door gave out under her weight and swung open. JJ stumbled inside and took in the room in front of her. She saw the source of the crash, a broken table that lay splintered on the floor. Then she stopped, everything finally catching up to her now that she had stopped running. The fear of the sight in front of her paralysing her.

"I need medical now! I need medical in the basement." She practically shouted into her earpiece as she rushed towards the shattered table. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be real.

Emily was collapsed on the floor next to the wreckage her chest heaving as she grasped at her stomach. One of the splintered pieces of wood was pierced through her skin, her blood soaking through her shirt. As JJ got closer she could see that she was fighting to stay conscious, she wasn't sure if she even knew she was in the room with her. When she finally reached her side she dropped to her knees seeing now just how bad her injuries were.

"Hey Em, it's me. It's JJ." She said, choking back the tears that threatened to spill over. She tried her best to keep her voice steady to calm Emily and reassure her that she was there with her as she took her hand in hers lacing their fingers together.

"JJ." Emily smiled weakly, her voice was shaky and it was clear it was taking most of her energy to speak. JJ squeezed her hand tightly but when Emily tried to do the same she barely flexed her fingers. She was losing her strength too quickly. "It's too late JJ, let me go."

"No, no don't say that. Emily it's going to be okay. I've called for medics and they'll be here soon. The rest of the team knows where we are, okay? They're going to be here soon and you'll be okay." JJ nodded frantically, she didn't know who she was trying to convince, Emily or herself. She took her hand that had been resting against her side and cupped her cheek, stroking the skin. The blood on her hands left streaks on her face where her fingertips touched her skin. Emily turned her head into the palm of her hand and JJ could feel how shallow her breath was as it brushed against her skin.

"I love you JJ." Emily's voice was quiet now, barely above a whisper. JJ almost felt her lips against her palm more than she actually heard the words she was saying. She was struggling to keep her eyes open now and no matter what she tried she couldn't get her to stay focused on her anymore. JJ's hand closed around empty air and when she looked down she saw that Emily's hand had slipped from hers. When she looked back up to try and convince her to take her hand again her eyes were closed.

"Emily? Emily no, no, no! You're okay. Breathe. Just breathe. Open your eyes. Come back. It's okay. It's over now. You're okay. Wake up. Please wake up." JJ sobbed trying to hug her as best she could in this awkward position, pulling her body closer to her. "Don't do this to me. I love you so fucking much. Come back. Please come back to me, I'm so sorry Emily."

"JJ! JJ wake up it's me!"

JJ shot up straight, her hands grasping at the duvet underneath them as she snapped her eyes closed against the harsh, bright light flooding the room. She blinked trying to fight against the light burning her eyes and gather her surroundings. Her adrenaline from the fear was still coursing through her body making her recoil from the hand touching her arm. She was disoriented and it took her a few moments of trying to control her breathing to recognise the voice that was pleading with her to calm down, trying to reassure her.

"Emily?" She panted, her mind finally slowly enough to let her focus and register that it was Emily sitting on the bed next to her. Emily placed her hand back on her arm and once JJ was certain it was really her, that she was really here she surged forward and wrapped her arms around her as tightly as she could. "I was so scared, Emily I thought you were - I thought-"

JJ stumbled over her words growing frantic again as she tried to explain everything to Emily. She could feel her chest tightening and the only thing that was keeping her somewhat sane was Emily's arms around her. Emily pulled her closer against her chest and let her bury her face into the crook of her neck as she cried. She rubbed her shoulder in circles hoping the steady rhyme would start to calm as she gently shushed her. Once JJ's crying began to slow she pressed a kiss to her hair before pulling back to meet her gaze.

"You're safe now JJ, it's okay. It was just a dream." Emily promised wiping away the tears streaming down her face. She hated seeing her so upset like this and all she wanted to do was make her feel better.

"No Emily, that's the thing. It's not just a dream because it actually happened and I just keep reliving it." JJ choked out with a shake of her head. She turned away from Emily's gaze as she started to explain it. The nightmares had been getting better ever since Emily came home from Paris and it had been a while since she had one this bad. "I keep having that awful dream of you lying on that warehouse floor dying while there was nothing any of us could do to help you."

"But just remember how that situation ended JJ, I didn't die. I'm right here with you." Emily moved to sit next to JJ, forcing her to look her in the eyes again as she ran her fingers through her hair and pushed it off her face. "There was something you could do to save me from that situation and you did. You were there for me and you were the reason I survived all those months alone in Paris. You can't keep blaming yourself because the team didn't find me sooner, because you couldn't change how it played out. It's not fair to you."

"I just feel like there was something more I could have done, maybe if I had just gotten to Quantico sooner. Maybe if I'd found more information." JJ sighed bringing her knees up to her chest as she slipped back into that old habit of blaming herself for everything that happened.

"Oh sweetheart, no. Don't, don't do that to yourself. I made my decisions and I am the only one responsible for that. You did absolutely everything you could and I couldn't love you more for it." She reassured her, wrapping her arms around her shoulders again.

JJ nodded then, finally letting herself relax for the first time that night. She let Emily pull her into her side and melted at the contact breathing in the smell of her perfume to ground herself. Emily had always been a source of comfort for her and no matter what was happening she was there to help her through it, she always had been. She'd never loved someone as much as she loved Emily.

"Come on, let's get you back to bed. It's late. Do you want some tea to help you sleep?" Emily asked gently stroking her cheek - that she was sure was now red and puffy from all her crying - as she waited for a response. Her eyes were filled with a warmth that put JJ at ease when she stared into them.

"Yes please." JJ's voice was hoarse from screaming out Emily's name in her sleep, followed by the crying which she was sure didn't help. Emily nodded at her with a smile and untucked her from her side as she stood up from the bed. She turned to walk out of the room towards the kitchen but she felt something tug at her wrist. When she looked back over her shoulder she saw that JJ was holding onto her wrist, running her thumb over the back of her hand. "Thank you, Emily."

"Of course, that's what I'm here for. Always." Emily said leaning down to press a kiss to her lips before leaving to get her cup of tea.

#criminal minds fics #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fanfiction #jemily #jemily fanfiction #jemily fanfic #jemily fic #jj #jennifer jareau #jj fanfiction #jennifer jareau fanfiction

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dhwty-writes · 4 years

Note

Prompt: toads. Just toads.

...are you the socks anon...? If so, you leave fantastic prompts! If not, I’ve got two anons who do :D All the better

Anyways, here is TOADS! I had a field trip with this. There's two horrible poems, friendly dunking and wrestling, and two grown men running after a single toad while trying not to laugh too hard. Have fun!

Read on AO3

"Gracious gods, Geralt, did you really have to take this contract?" Jaskier complained loudly and wiped his grimy hand on his breeches.

"Hm," the witcher grunted very unhelpfully and ducked down into the reed again.

"I mean, reall- eww," he tried to wipe his hair from his forehead and managed to smear mucky pond water all over it. "'Collect some toad toes', what kind of contract is that? And why in Melitele's cursed name do you need a witcher for it?"

"Told you, Jaskier," Geralt muttered and he could hear the tell-tale sign of two empty hands clapping together. "It's for a friend."

"Some kind of friend that is..."

He groaned and stood upright again. "Have you caught anything yet?"

"Of course not," Jaskier huffed and waded over to him. At least the way the mud squelched between his toes felt nice.

"A toady monster shall be slain,

But how can I praise prettily

That venerable victory,

If the white wolf cannot stake his claim?"

He slung an arm around his shoulders and revelled in the sight of Geralt staring at him intently.

"For I am but a humble bard,

Who, when he woke with a start

This morning, didn't think he would depart

With this stunning piece of art-"

"What?!" Geralt snapped and Jaskier had a hard time not to double over laughing.

"-who lives up to ev'ry ounce of his fame,

That I have equipped him with,

The man, the witcher, the myth,

Geralt of Rivia is his name!

But if you bet on him, go to your broker,

He can't catch a measly croaker.”

Geralt growled menacingly.

"You don't like it?" Jaskier frowned. "Alright, let me start over.

Though he's surely not a savage beast,

He pried me from a lover's side,

To go for a different kind of ride.

And I swear there was a growl at least.

He led me into the forest deep,

To a pond that stank to the skies,

Where we were attacked by vicious flies,

Far away from any town or keep.

There he said to me:

"Get right into the fray,

On this superb sunny summer day,

Forget the bed where you could still be,

Forget the adventure on the roads,

And collect some fucking toads."

Geralt glowered darkly and Jaskier smiled brightly. "What," he growled quietly, "the fuck?!"

Now he couldn't hold back the laughter anymore. "Oh, my dear witcher, the look on your face! If you could just see yourself, you-"

"Bard," he rumbled, "you're treading on very thin ice."

"-I mean, what was it that brought your mind to a screeching halt? The alliterations? The rhymes? I think I crafted those two sonnets just marvelousl- fuck!"

He had scarcely any chance to react before Geralt wrapped both of his arms tightly around his waist and tackled him into the water.

He thrashed around wildly, kicked and scratched and bit, and even tried to scream, although he wasn't very successful, just to pull Geralt down into the water with him.

They were still scrambling at each other when they resurfaced, Geralt attempting a chokehold and Jaskier pulling at his hair. "Fuck!" he howled, soaking wet and fuming. "Geralt, you brute, you ruined my new shirt!"

"You wrote two fucking sonnets because I can't catch a bloody toad!" he barked and dunked him again. This time he landed a vicious kick into the hollow of his knee that made the witcher grunt as his legs buckled beneath him.

"Bastard bard...," he grunted and hauled him up.

Jaskier grinned widely. "Witless witcher," he countered and dealt a blow that Geralt had taught him. Roach let out a judgemental snort and moments later Jaskier discovered why: The punch had been a severe miscalculation, for Geralt saw it coming. He deflected his punch and before he even knew what was happening, he fell face first into the mud. "Elgh, Geralt, that's disgusting!" he complained and struggled to get to his feet.

He rose up to shaky knees, but Geralt was on him again, smearing the muck into his hair. "Do you yield?" he asked and rubbed it in deeper. "Do you yield already, Jaskier?"

"I don't, I don't!" he screeched and Roached moved as far away from them as the lead rope let her. "Big bloody bastard man, get off me so, I can repay you, you- Geralt!"

The witcher laughed and attempted to push him into the mud again. "What? D'you want more?"

"No, look! Toad!"

And there it was, mere inches from their faces, staring at them with large eyes. It croaked quietly.

"Get it!" Jaskier screamed. "Fucking get it!"

He didn't need to, for Geralt was lunging already, hands outstretched. With a deafening SPLASH he landed in the mud, the wet squelching sound soon drowned out by Geralt's laughter.

"It's getting away!" He scrambled to his feet, slipping and sputtering, dashing after the small animal. "Fuck, Geralt, keep up, it's getting away!"

"I'm coming," he assured him, still fighting the giggles, but sprinting after the toad all the same. "There it goes!"

"Where, where?" Jaskier skidded to a halt and landed on his butt again. "Bollocks, I've missed it!"

Geralt ran further ahead, trying to reach down a few times, but evidently missing.

Jaskier tried to stand up again, hindered by the peals of laughter that bubbled out of his mouth when he watched the six-foot-two-hundred-pound witcher try to scoop up a single toad, completely unaware of his surroundings. "Watch out!" he wanted to shout, but before he even completed the sentence, Geralt had already noisily collided with a tree.

He groaned quietly, rubbing at his shoulders. "Fuck," he muttered and Jaskier had to sit down again, holding his aching belly.

"Geralt, please," he wheezed, "I can't take it-"

"Jaskier!" he bellowed. "It's coming your way!"

"Fuck!" He was right, there it was hopping towards him. He bit down hard on his lip, to keep from laughing and gathered the last bit of his strength to throw himself at the beast, effectively squashing it beneath him. "I've got it!" he cried triumphantly. "Geralt, I've got i- yuck, it's slimy, Geralt, come, quick, it's icky!"

"I'm here, I'm here," the witcher assured him and crouched down beneath him. "Where is it?"

"Nooo, eww, it's trying to squeeze into my shirt! I don't want it on my skin, I don't want it, Geralt, help!"

"Where is it, where?" he asked again, squeezing his hands beneath Jaskier's upper body in search of the nasty little fiend.

"On the left, higher, no, higher; are you groping me, you bastard? Stop that, get this thing off me first!"

"I've got it!"

"Good," Jaskier sighed with relief, "now get off me."

"Can't. I've got it in both my hands and you're spread-eagled on them."

"I'm very much not," he huffed, but wriggled out of his arms nevertheless. Not without using Geralt's forehead as leverage for his foot while pushing away, of course. "Spread-eagled," he muttered. "As if I ever did such a thing..." He got to his feet, dusting off his pants in habit. The only thing it managed was smearing the mud further. "Gross," he muttered. "What now, Geralt?"

"I'm supposed to only bring the toes," Geralt said with a grimace.

"Pfft. Your 'friend' can cut them off themself, if they insist on it. I'm not touching that thing ever again. It's far too well acquainted with my body already."

"Hmm. We still have to transport it there somehow." He looked around the small clearing. They had rid themselves of armour, doublets and boots before wading into the water and left them with Roach, who was staring at them disapprovingly. Jaskier's lute was with her, too, and-

"Ohh, no!" he declared loudly and backed up. "No, no, no, no, no! I won't, Geralt."

"Come on," he taunted, "do it for a friend."

"A friend?! Oh, now we're friends! Yeah, that sounds convenient!"

"Jaskier..."

"No, Geralt, you can't ask that of me. That's beyond cruel, even for you, and-"

"We have to put it somewhere, Jaskier. We don't have anything else where it might fit."

"No, and that's my last word."

"Fine," he growled and folded his legs beneath him, "I'll take you to Oxenfurt for the Bardic Festival this year."

He narrowed his eyes at him. "Keep talking."

"If you win all your celebratory indulgences are on me."

He raised his eyebrows.

Geralt sighed heavily. "And if you lose to Valdo Marx, I'll help you pelt him with rotten fruit when he goes to accept his prize."

Jaskier beamed at him. "I love to do business with you, Geralt!" He sauntered over to Roach and untied his lute case from her saddle. Gently he took out his priced instrument and wrapped it in his doublet — that was clean, at least — and approached Geralt with his newly empty lute case. "I swear to every god out there, if it shits into my lute case, I'll rip you a new one."

"Hmm," he answered and lowered his hands into it. "Quick, close it!" he hissed. He pulled his hands out, the lid snapped shut and they both threw themselves onto it to keep it that way.

Together they closed the buckles and only when Geralt had inspected them they dared to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Fuck," Jaskier muttered emphatically, sinking to the muddy ground next to Geralt.

"Hmm," he agreed.

He cautiously eyed the brackish water: "I need a bath."

"Not here," Geralt grunted and struggled to his feet. "We'll get a warm one once we deliver that fucking beast." Jaskier took the offered hand and reluctantly put on his boots again.

With his toad-infested lute case slung over his shoulder and the lute cradled in his arms he fell into step next to Geralt. He delighted in the smiles and japes he could pry out of his usually taciturn friend.

Entertained like that the way to the remote tower in the middle of fucking nowhere didn't seem quite as bad as before. Once they got there, he almost wasn't angry anymore.

They knocked and were quickly ushered in once Geralt gave his name and the name of the witch that lived there — one Triss Merigold. The servant took one look at them before leading them to a room with a sizable bath in the middle.

"Oh, fun!" Jaskier said. "Someone's got manners."

Geralt snorted and crossed his arms. "He's saying you stink."

"Pffft, pish posh. As if you smell any better, you-"

Unfortunately, their banter was cut short when the door opened and a beautiful woman with dark curls entered. "Geralt," she said with a smile, "you've brought a friend- what on earth happened to you?"

"Jaskier the Bard," he answered and bowed with a flourish, "at your service, Madam." He produced the lute case and held it out with a wide grin. "We've retrieved your toad. Slipped in a bit of mud in the process."

The sincere smile on her face faltered, reduced to a confused, albeit polite one. "My... toad?"

"Toad toes," Geralt ground out, "what you wanted."

And then, the miracle that made sure Jaskier would never forget that day occurred: a sorceress was stunned speechless before his very eyes. "Toad toes," she repeated slowly. "That's what you got me?"

"Yes."

"Well, not quite," Jaskier cut in. "It seemed a bit cruel to rid the poor thing of his toes, truth be told. So, we procured the whole animal. If you'd be so kind to relieve us of it? I'd like my lute case back, thank you very much."

"Geralt..." A grin tugged at the edge of her mouth. "You're no stupid man. What exactly did I tell you to retrieve?"

He frowned deeply. "Toe of frog."

"Is that a problem?" Jaskier asked without lowering the case. "Come on, that can't be a problem! Toad, frog, that's practically the same thi- wait a minute. What did you just say?"

"Toe of frog," he repeated, obviously very confused.

"Toe of frog? No, Geralt, please tell me this isn't happening."

"What?"

"Toe of frog," Triss supplied helpfully, "is a flower. Not an animal. Buttercups, to be precise." She giggled quietly and took the lute case. "Don't worry. I'll clean it. You two go on and clean yourselves. Dinner's in three hours, you can try again tomorrow." With that she left the room, a sly smile on her lips.

"Oh, I can't believe it," Jaskier groaned. "All of that for nothing? Couldn't you have asked her what she wanted toe of frog for? Couldn't you have told me? I would've known! But no, instead you say 'fucking toad feet'. Those are not the same, Geralt!"

He still stared after her. "Fuck," he muttered.

"Unbelievable!" he threw his hands up. "I want a bath, now. So, out with you." He walked over to the large tub and tugged the shirt over his head.

"Hm."

He turned and quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

"What you said earlier... Technically, I got the toad off you."

Jaskier prided himself on being a man who had travelled wide and far, and seen enough of the world that nothing short of the impossible could shock him. So, he wasn't ashamed to say his jaw dropped when he heard that. "Are you serious?" he spluttered.

"You're the one who said I could grope him if I got that thing off him."

"Geralt of Rivia," a wide grin spread on his face, "you impossible man."

He grinned, too, and pulled him closer by the hips. "Is that a yes?"

"'Is that a yes?'" he mocked him affectionately. "'Is that a yes?' asks the man who insulted my poetry, dunked me under water, slammed me into mud and smeared it all over my hair, made me chase after a toad, and, if that wasn't enough, made me carry said slimy, despicable animal in my beloved lute case. All in the span of one afternoon!"

"Mhm. Sounds like a horrible person."

"The worst." He sighed and slung his arms around his neck. "He also happens to be my best friend, who I love very much and who I am very angry at, at the moment."

"And what do you propose we do about that?"

"Kiss me," he ordered, "clean me, and take me to bed."

Geralt grinned. "That I can do." He bowed down and kissed him very gently on the lips. He wanted to pull away again, so Jaskier whined and tightened his grip. Geralt chuckled and deepened the kiss, drawing delicious little moans and gasps from Jaskier's lips and even a quiet squeal when he simply picked him up and began crossing the room. It was everything his fantasies had promised to be, sweet, heated, and pas-

All of the sudden the world dropped out beneath him. Jaskier had barely time to shout before he hit the water once again and the bottom of the tub shortly after. It took him significantly less time to resurface, though. "Geralt of Rivia!" he bellowed indignantly, wiping water and softened mud from his face.

The witcher only laughed and stripped to join him in the bath.

Send me prompts

#Anonymous #look i've got an ask #my writing #geraskier #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier fanfiction #triss merigold #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #fluff #seriously guys this is just fun #two idiots being idiots #i had a lot of fun writing it :D

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theladyofdeath · 3 years

Text

The Perfect Gift {Rowaelin}

Based on a prompt sent in by anonymous.

This has been a hard Christmas for everyone, @snelbz and I included, so I apologize for my lack of posts. In years past, Christmas fics have been my favorite to write and post, but this year...I lacked any Christmas spirit, whatsoever. However, as that has been the case for many of us, hopefully these last few holiday fics will give you a little boost of holiday spirit. (;

Written with Shelb, of course.

Rowan got the same gift for Christmas every year: working overtime from the week before Christmas until after the New Year.

It left him exhausted, hardly able to keep his eyes open as he pulled onto his street. He longed for his apartment, even if he wasn’t sure if he was going to the fridge for a beer or heading straight to bed.

It had been one of those days.

It didn’t help that he had to drive slower, being extra cautious, because of the heavy snowfall.

He parked in the lot, thankful that there was a spot near the staircase and as he brought the car to a stop, he dragged a hand down his face.

Thankfully, he’d be off tomorrow and would celebrate the holiday with his friends. Before turning right back around to be at work the day after Christmas.

With a yawn, Rowan pulled himself from the car and trudged up the stairs towards his apartment. As he approached, however, he realized he could hear festive music playing from within and he looked up to find a large, and very glittery, wreath hanging on his front door.

He reached for the knob and found it unlocked, which it certainly hadn’t been when he’d left for work this morning.

He slowly pushed it open, and froze.

Aelin Galathynius was up on a stepstool, reaching up high to place a star on the top of a Christmas tree.

It wasn’t his Christmas tree.

Rowan didn’t have a Christmas tree.

Rowan had zero Christmas decorations, had nothing that resembled the holiday whatsoever.

Aelin, as she shook her Christmas-pajama-ed ass to the obnoxiously loud Christmas music streaming through his bluetooth speaker, apparently disapproved of that fact.

Rowan cleared his throat, and loudly shut the front door behind him.

She yelped and nearly dropped the sparkling tree topper, but righted herself and turned around to look at him. “Oh. Hey.”

Rowan had to fight off another yawn threatening to take over, but he felt a small delight in unexpectedly seeing his best friend. “What are you doing, Ace?”

“You’re off early,” she said, ignoring his way question and hopping off the stool. She carefully placed the star on the coffee table, which looked like a tiny snowman village. “You don’t usually get off work until, like, ten on Christmas Eve.”

“Lorcan sent me home, said I’d been working too many hours,” he said, leaning against the back of his door.

“Great,” she said, grinning. “Here, go put these on.” She held out a pair of pajama pants, that were identical to the pair she wore.

He blinked at the red and green Christmas trees displayed across the gray, fleece fabric. “Are we really doing this?”

Her mischievous grin deepened. “Oh, most definitely.”

He shook his head, slowly. “You know, I planned on coming home, taking it easy, going to bed early…” He trailed off, taking the pajama bottoms from Aelin, once she shoved them into his chest.

“On Christmas Eve?” Aelin asked, one golden brow raised. She grabbed her phone off the side table and turned the volume down, just a little bit, as some classic, cheesy song played in the background. “You can take it easy, but we’re going to be festive, damn it.”

He sighed, knowing there was no way he was going to win the current argument, and made his way back towards his bedroom. Decorations lined all of the walls and there was some sort of lit up knickknack or garland sitting on every surface of the apartment. He paused and turned back to look at her. “How long have you been here?”

Glancing down at her watch, she said, “I got off work at two-thirty today, like a normal person, so…” She shrugged.

“So two-thirty, then?” He asked, starting his walk back to his room again.

Aelin laughed. “Pretty much.”

Rowan just shook his head as he stumbled into his bedroom. The moment he closed his bedroom door, he stared lovingly at his bed.

His perfect bed.

So comfy, so warm.

With another wide yawn, he kicked off his boots, then his jeans, and slipped on the pajama pants.

He hated to admit just how soft and cozy they really were.

And it didn’t make him want to not climb into bed any less.

By the time he made it back into the living room, Aelin had forgotten about putting the star on top of the tree and was pulling a tray of gingerbread man cookies out of the oven.

“You need a life,” Rowan announced. “This is…”

“Amazing?” Aelin supplied.

Rowan chuckled. “A bit much.”

She smiled, setting the tray down on the stovetop. “We only get one Christmas a year. Why not make it count?”

He rolled his eyes and turned, finding a festive movie menu on his television, with a pile of blankets on his couch, two mugs of hot chocolate and decorated cookies on the coffee table. He looked back into his room and wondered how he hadn’t noticed his comforter missing from his bed.

“Oh no,” he said, letting his head fall into his hand.

“Oh, yes,” Aelin said, smirking as she moved past him and flopped onto the couch.

“Christmas movies are cheesy,” Rowan muttered.

“Not all of them,” Aelin protested, crossing her arms.

“Yes, all of them, every single one,” he argued.

“You're such a Scrooge,” she teased, picking up her mug of hot chocolate. When she pulled the mug away, she had a thick, whipped cream mustache.

Rowan couldn’t help his laugh as Aelin’s eyes narrowed. She quickly sucked in her top lip and licked it off, a gesture that made Rowan’s laughter quickly fade.

Rowan and Aelin had been best friends their entire lives. They'd been there for each other through every high and low of their lives, whether that was Aelin graduating top of her class from the University of Terrasen or Rowan’s father leaving just shy of his fourteenth birthday.

Rowan had been in love with her for years.

She had no idea.

“Stop looking at me, asshole,” Aelin muttered, taking another sip from her mug.

Rowan cleared his throat and shook off the moment with a sneaky grin. “If only I had my camera. That would’ve made good future blackmail.”

Aelin rolled. “No need to save blackmail, you already scare every guy I meet away with your looming height and endless broodiness.”

Rowan chuckled. If only she knew. “Alright, Ace. What horrid movie are you forcing me to sit through?”

“A childhood classic,” she said, and pressed play, letting the sound of The Grinch fill the room.

Rowan narrowed his eyes and sat next to her on the couch. “You better be happy Jim Carrey is my favorite actor.”

“Is he?” She asked, with mock surprise. “I had no idea.”

Rowan grabbed a cookie from the plate and bit Santa’s head off. It seemed the best response to Aelin’s sarcasm.

The movie started — Rowan detested movies that spoke in rhyme — and the two settled in to watch. After only a couple of minutes, Rowan was yawning.

“You better not fall asleep,” Aelin said, raising an eyebrow as she looked over at him.

“So bossy,” he said, leaning forward to grab his hot chocolate. He put the mug to his lips and drank. Pausing the movie, he looked over at her. “Is there alcohol in this?”

“You’re asking me if there’s alcohol in it?” Aelin asked, shooting him a grin.

“Of course there is,” he muttered, taking a sip. He could taste a slight hint of rumchata through the cocoa and extensive whipped cream.

Aelin was good at a lot of things.

At the top of the list was a solid mug of hot cocoa.

The titles played, and The Grinch began.

Rowan used to love that movie, back before his father left and Christmas still felt like Christmas.

Aelin had had a hard childhood, too, and Rowan envied her for still loving Christmas. After all those years, she still adored the holiday. Still adored the magic of the day.

Rowan had a much more difficult time getting into the holiday spirit.

That could have been why he chugged the hot chocolate and Aelin was up getting seconds for them both before the titular character was even on screen. That pattern held until an hour later, when Aelin was grabbing a bottle of whiskey out of the freezer, the Rumchata long gone and Rowan was hollering from the living room, voice beginning to slur, “Like, if he doesn’t like Christmas, why doesn’t he just move? I’m sure there’s a community of people somewhere who hate Christmas just as much as he does.” Aelin sniggered as she set down the bottle, but he went on. “And for that fact, the Who’s just need to let the damn man live his life. He’s not hurting anyone up on his mountain.”

“He kind of is,” Aelin argued, closing the fridge and heading back to the living room. “I mean, he scares everyone and makes people miserable on purpose.”

“Yeah, because everyone’s so damn judgmental,” Rowan said, his head falling back against the couch cushions.

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you love the Grinch so much,” Aelin grinned, falling onto the couch next to him. “Save for being green, you’re practically the same person.”

“Not true,” Rowan scoffed. “I would never wear the outfit of a German yodeler.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “First of all, it’s called a lederhosen. Secondly, you’re so full of shit.”

Rowan was unable to control his grin.

“I could see you in lederhosen, by the way,” Aelin continued, sipping from her mug. Rowan followed her lead, the warm sensation of whiskey trailing down his throat.

“I don’t think it’s my style,” he snorted, propping one of his feet onto the coffee table.

“You’d rather wear the table cloth?” Aelin asked, giggling quietly.

“I think that’s more of your style,” he chuckled, tossing back the rest of his mug.

Aelin cocked her head and looked over at him. “Topless, huh? You think that’s my look?”

Rowan began to backpedal. “No, I mean- I just meant it was a skirt.”

Aelin began to howl, Rowan’s cheeks bright red.

“You’re something else, Whitethorn, you know that?” Aelin asked, downing the liquor in her mug.

“In a good way?” Rowan asked.

Aelin looked at him through his side eye and remained silent as she tossed an arm around Rowan’s shoulder. “You’re an interesting man, you know that?”

The alcohol he’d consumed, coupled with the scent of her around him was nearly too much and he was unable to stop his hand from resting on her thigh. “Interesting, huh? Is that a good interesting or a bad interesting?”

Aelin’s own cheeks darkened, but her fingers began to draw small circles into his shoulder. “Good interesting. You’re never boring.”

She lifted her arm off his shoulder, but was glad when his hand didn’t leave her thigh.

“I’ll take interesting,” he went on, even if all he could think about was his hand. His hand that rested on her thigh. Her thigh, which was warm and unmoving. “As long as it’s a compliment.”

Aelin cocked her head to the side, and golden strands fell into her face. “And what do you think of me? Am I interesting?”

“You’re…” His words trailed off as he turned his head to the side and looked into her eyes. Those turquoise and gold eyes that made his knees weak and his heart ache and made him feel like his chest was going to burst. “...dangerous.”

Aelin took a sip of her whiskey, licking the last sip off her lips. “How am I dangerous?”

“First of all, you have no filter,” Rowan said, unable to hide his smile. “You say whatever is on your mind without the consequences.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Aelin asked, brow raised, still fully aware of Rowan’s hand on her thigh.

“I say it has both its good and bad qualities,” Rowan followed.

Aelin laughed, quietly, then said, “And what else makes me so dangerous?”

“Exactly what you’re doing right now,” he said, taking a deep breath, regretting it immediately when he realized how close to Aelin he was. The smell of her spice and vanilla perfume him and if he would have been standing, he would have fallen to his knees. “You have to have the last word. It’s impossible to win an argument with you.”

“Some people would call that tenacity,” she said, bringing her legs up and tucking them beneath her.

Rowan’s fingers squeezed gently. “Most people would call that stubborn.”

Aelin tossed her head back and laughed and Rowan was powerless to stop himself from leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

As soon as his lips left her skin and he’d realized what he’d done, his eyes went wide.

Aelin only hesitated for a moment before lifting a beautifully sculpted brow. “What was that for?”

“There has to be a reason?” He meant for it to come out as a snarky remark, to match her tone, but it came out nothing more than a whisper.

Aelin slowly shook her head. “No, there doesn’t have to be a reason.”

Rowan took a moment to try and figure out what that statement meant. Was it an invitation? Something cordial to let him know that kissing her cheek was okay? Did it mean that she wanted something more?

The two fell back into silence and as the movie played, Rowan continued to ponder Aelin’s reaction to his kiss. He was just about to clear his throat and apologize when lithe fingers and manicured nails finger-combed through his hair.

He nearly purred.

Rowan leaned into her touch and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling Aelin move closer as well. He didn’t want to do anything to stop her, didn't want to say anything that would result in her stopping the way she was lightly scratching at his scalp, but he also wasn’t completely positive he wasn’t dreaming.

A thousand emotions rushed him, lust nearing the top of the list. He tried not to let it show, but was certain he was failing as his eyes fluttered shut one more time.

“Feel good?” She breathed.

He made a contented noise, somewhere between a moan and a sigh, and settled deeper into the cushions. With a breathy chuckle, she ran her fingers through the front and brushed the stray strands out of his face. He cracked one of his eyes open and looked at her through a heavy lid.

With his pine green gaze on her, Aelin’s cheeks heated. “What?”

He gently shook his head, but continued looking at her, taking her in. “What's on your mind?”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Nothing.”

“Liar,” he said, with a grin.

“Nothing important,” she corrected, her fingers still working their magic.

Rowan watched her for a second before repeating, “Liar.”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?” She asked, turning the tables on him.

He was quiet for a minute more before he admitted, “I was thinking about how different my night is going than I planned.”

She asked, “Yeah?”

He nodded. “See, I was planning on coming home, downing a beer or two, and passing out.” The smirk he tried to hide broke through. “Instead I find you, dancing around my house, baking cookies and just being all around cheery.”

“Are you complaining?” Aelin asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Not at all,” he replied. “I’m the luckiest guy in Orynth.”

She rolled her eyes, even though her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. “You're full of shit.”

“No, I’m not,” he said, slowly shaking his head. “I mean it.”

Aelin couldn’t hide the smile that grew on her face and when she turned to Rowan, she found a similar smile on his own. The hand in his hair drifted down, a thumb brushing over his cheekbone

“Can I kiss you?” Rowan asked, not letting himself think of the irreparable damage he could be doing on their friendship.

With a smirk, Aelin said, “I thought you already did.”

Rowan hesitated before letting out a breathy laugh. “Well, then can I kiss you agai-.”

Before he could finish, Aelin had leaned toward him, and put her lips on his.

That hand on her though tightened and her other hand framed the side of his face, and Rowan Whitethorn forgot how to breathe as he kissed Aelin.

When they finally pulled apart, both beaming at each other, Rowan wrapped an arm around her and they settled onto the couch.

“I hope you have a pretty good present for me tomorrow,” Aelin said with a grin.

Rowan laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He didn’t bother to tell her that no present would ever compare to this night, she was present enough.

#Rowaelin #Christmas 2020 #TOG #Throne of Glass #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #shara #rowan #aelin #modern au

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years

Text

Just one chance (Diego Hargreeves x Fem! Reader)

A/N: I'm really excited because a lot of people liked Diego's previous one-shot so ... here's another one. it has nothing to do with the other, I hope you like it, thank you soooo much for reading. <3 - Val

And btw, Thank you very much for the 300 followers, REQUESTS ARE OPEN ONCE AGAIN !! Check the post we made for the celebration.

Words: 3,035

Diego walks through the corridors of the house. He sighs, taking courage, and knocks on the door. When it opens, his sister Vanya is at the other side.

“Hey, Diego,” She says with a smile.

"I need your help, it’s urgent," He answers nervously. She frowns and lets him walk into her room.

"What's up?" Diego sits on the bed and plays with his hands. "I've never seen you so nervous…”

"Nervous? Me? Please,” He scoffs.

"What? You’re in trouble?" Vanya stands in front of him and crosses her arms.

"Something like that," he finally says.

Vanya knows what her brother does at night. Using his skill with knives and the arduous training everyone had in their childhood, Diego takes it upon himself to aid helpless people.

"Do you need me to call the police?"

"No, not that kind of problem,” he says wiping his hands on his pants.

“Okay, I don't mean to sound rude, but you're not giving useful information. So maybe you better ask someone else for help?”

"No!" Vanya startles, pulling away a bit. "Shit, I'm sorry– I didn't want to scare you, just that- uh, I-" He growls. “You're the only one who can help me, Vanya.”

The relationship she has with her brothers is somewhat complicated. With Diego, she’s sure that she’s not Diego's first choice when he needs help, so this is confusing.

"What's going on?" She sits next to him on the bed.

"I'm not good at these things,” He answers through gritted teeth. "But I’m desperate, this’ll be my last try,” Vanya raises her eyebrows. “I have problems with... girls?"

Both of them are silent for a few seconds.

"Since when? How come only I can help you?"

"Oh come on, you're the only one with a stable relationship!”

She can't help a little smile.

"Sissy is not my girlfriend.”

"But you haven't ruined it yet, you're the one that has lasted the longest out of all.”

Maybe that's true.

"And Allison? She’s still with Raymond.”

Diego makes a face and scratches the back of his neck.

"She wouldn't help me for this.”

“Why?" Vanya now understands the big problem. “Oh… Are you sure you want to try?"

"You already regret wanting to help me?"

“No, it's just that- well… are we talking about Y/N? Allison's best friend?” She asks.

They met Y/N when they were twelve years old and since then she and Allison have been inseparable, actually, they all like her and over time she’s gained the trust of the Hargreeves.

"But doesn't she hate you?"

Diego nods, feeling hopeless. It’s true that for his last -perhaps only- opportunity, he needs Vanya's help and her attitude is not helping at all, or at least that’s what he thinks.

Vanya grins and Diego looks at her in disbelief.

"I'm not laughing at you, idiot,” She smiles. "I thought you’d already given up with her.”

"I guess I can still attempt something, but this is my last try,” He says.

From the moment Diego saw Y/N, he thought she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in his life, but every time he tried to talk to her the girl would walk away or try to avoid him, so the only solution a 12-year-old could think of was to tease her; from pulling her hair, making fun, throwing knives at her -without hurting her- and as they grew older insults were added. In a way, Diego's plan worked, Y/N noticed him more, but it was only to yell at him. All this caused Diego's feelings for her to grow faster. He explained it to Vanya and she laughed again.

“So, all those bruises, yelling and insults were because you like her?” She says.

"Hey, I was just a kid!” He defends. "Now's different and I really want to do things right."

His sister is surprised, this is not a game, Diego’s asking her for help to conquer a girl and Vanya thinks it can work.

"I just want to add, I always believed you’d be a good couple.”

Diego's eyes light up.

“You'll help me?"

“That's right, brother. But you have to follow my lead…”

"I promise. Thank you, Sis! " he hugs Vanya very tightly making her squeal.

Later the doorbell rings, Allison's voice sounds soon after.

"Oh, that's right,” says Vanya with a smile, looking at her brother. “Y/N'll have dinner with us.”

Diego's breath hitches and his muscles tense.

"Oh.”

"First lesson, Diego."

***

After a few hours, they are whispering in the main hall, Diego’s about to panic as Vanya tries to reassure him.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"First, breathe,” she says. “It’s only dinner, relax. You can start with compliments, maybe of what she’s wearing, things like that.”

"Ok, ok, I can do that,” answers Diego.

“Well, let's go.”

Vanya takes his hand and they both enter the dining room, the other members are already waiting. Luther is the first, and on his left side are Allison, Y/N and then Ben, opposite to Luther is Klaus, then Five. Vanya tells Diego to sit across from Y/N and she sits at the end of the table.

Diego feels his legs shaking when he sees the girl for whom he’s trying his best not to scream. She’s laughing at something Allison said, the boy can't help but smile when he sees her happy. He sits down and waits patiently for dinner.

For a few minutes he only allows himself to admire her without saying anything, everything that Vanya said to him disappeared and he can't help but think how great it’d be the reason why she laughs, to take her hand under the table, whisper in her ear and kiss her cheek…

But his fantasies are interrupted by Vanya, who clears her throat to get their attention. While Luther helps his mother serve food, the others talk different things.

"It's good to see you again, Y/N,” says Vanya looking at the girl and she smiles at her.

“Same here, Vanya. How’s Sissy?"

"She’s fine, actually, we've thought about going to see a movie, any recommendations?"

Vanya could remember that Allison's best friend wanted to see a movie, and she had no one to go see it with, because none of her friends liked it, but she knew a certain man that would be willing to go without problems. The girl's eyes lit up, but then she grimaced.

"Oh yeah, they released a good one, but I'm not sure you’ll like it.”

"Are you still crying about it?" Says Five entering the conversation. Y/N looks at him offended.

"Shut up, I thought you’d be my salvation, but I only suffered from your betrayal!”

"That rhymed!" Klaus claps and Five rolls his eyes.

“None of your siblings want to go, but if you do, can I go with you? I don't mind being third wheeling…”

That's Diego's chance, but he doesn't say anything, so Vanya lightly kicks his leg.

"I could go with you!”

Everyone at the table looks at him in surprise and Vanya just wants to hit him again. Apparently yelling wasn’t part of Diego's plan. Y/N raises both eyebrows and huffs.

“Yes, right. I don't want you to be throwing popcorn at me during the whole movie, Diego. And surely you’d be talking all the time,” She rolls her eyes and Diego lowers his head. He knows the reason why she thinks that. It wouldn't be the first time that a movie went wrong because of their arguments.

Ben could notice how uncomfortable his brother is, so he decides to change the subject and now everyone forgets what happened. Vanya leans over to talk to Diego.

"What the hell was that?"

"I don't know, your help was useless!”

“You have to slow down, Diego. Baby steps, come on, give her a compliment!”

"Yes, okay,” He says nodding and they both turn to her.

Diego takes the time to think through his next move. Everyone has finished eating. When Diego leaves the dishes in the kitchen, he returns to the table and sees Y/N alone, perhaps waiting for her friend, so he approaches a little and notices her outfit.

He clears his throat to get her attention and smiles, hiding all the anxiety he feels.

"Hey, that blouse suits you very well, it matches your eyes,” While Diego expects a positive response, he receives the opposite.

"If that's your way to check out my breasts, let me tell you it's a pathetic attempt.”

Diego straightens up.

"No, no, no, no, n-o is not what I- uh, I didn't mean to," He stutters and behind him comes a laugh.

"My pathetic brother,” says Allison reaching her friend's side. Y/N huffs and they both leave the house.

Diego is startled when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"Ok, that went wrong,” says Vanya. "Maybe you can offer to take her home?" She tries.

“She'll probably think I'm going to kidnap her," he says with a grimace.

***

The next day Diego and Vanya talk for hours about all the possibilities in which his comments can go. After last night, Diego can't take any risks.

"Hey, it's not my fault that your favorite hobby was teasing her."

"I know! I know I was an idiot, but I didn't think this was going to happen,” He says.

"Now we can only hope for a miracle."

Diego complains again and hides his face with a pillow.

"Vanya, have you seen my skirt?" Klaus says entering the room. "Trouble in paradise, Dieguito?"

Diego restrains himself from throwing a knife at his brother.

"No, Klaus, I haven't seen it, are you going out?"

"Oui, mademoiselle. Y/N and Allison invited me to a party- Oh! There it is…”

Klaus grabs the skirt from the floor and leaves the room and as soon as the door closes, Diego sits on the bed and takes off his pillow. Both siblings share a hopeful look.

***

“Now, tell me how the hell am I going to be able to talk to her if she's with an idiot,” says Diego speaking louder so that Vanya could hear him above the music.

"As soon as she’s alone, you must go at it,” she answers.

These days have been stressful for the boy, he cannot believe his bad luck and he’s not used to this. Normally he has no problems with girls, he’s dated and even had a serious relationship with Patch, why is it so difficult with Y/N?

Hours pass and it comes to the moment when Diego is left alone on the balcony of the host's house, cursing every happy couple that passes by, and snorting every time he sees Klaus with a different drink. But everything changes when he hears a voice complaining near the balcony.

The boy walks away from the railing and toward the doors, only to find Y/N yelling at the boy she was with earlier. Diego doesn’t know what is happening, but he can get an idea of how it will end, especially when he sees that the boy takes Y/N by the neck and forces her to kiss him. Anger runs through the boy's body and he's about to go and hit the jerk, but halfway he stops totally shocked.

Y/N steps away from the idiot and punches him hard on his nose, causing him to fall to the ground and scream covering his face with his hand. Everyone around him reaches out to help and see what happens. The girl takes advantage of the opportunity, runs out of the scene, straight to the balcony passing Diego without noticing him.

The boy follows her, he can see that she’s holding her wrist and complaining, so he runs around the house and gets a bag with ice as if they were chasing him, he returns just as fast.

“Hey,” He catches her attention and she looks up with teary eyes.

"Diego, please, not now," She says in a tired voice.

"I brought you ice, for your hand,” He says quickly.

She looks at him and nods raising her injured hand. Diego gently takes it and puts the ice on it. He tries to ignore the chill that runs through his body at feeling her soft hand.

"Does it hurt too much?" he asks trying to distract her.

"I've never hit someone before," She says with a grimace. Diego smiles sideways, he can't help but be proud.

"Maybe I could teach you one day, I'm an expert in punching and receiving every day…” He says without much thought and she laughs slightly.

"I've only seen you fight with your brothers, but something tells me that you are not lying," She adds with amusement.

"It was a great blow, surely he deserved it.”

"Some people don't know what ‘No’ means" She sighs.

"I think it’s clear to him now.”

"I didn't know you liked parties," She replies, looking at him.

"Today I had a good reason to like them,” He shrugs.

"A girl?" When he nods she laughs again. "I think it's the longest conversation we've had without insulting each other…”

Diego laughs too.

"In my defense, I've tried to have a civil conversation with you for a couple of days, but you weren't helping much,” She frowns.

"I know you well, Diego. You always try to make fun of me.”

His smile disappears.

“I don't want to do it anymore, Y/N,” His serious face confuses her.

"What are you talking about?"

Before Diego could answer, Allison reaches his side and checks on her friend, pushing her brother away. Y/N assures her that she's fine, mentioning Diego's help, but Allison doesn't care.

"I'm glad but– uh, we have a problem.”

"I'm not in the mood to have another one,” complains the girl.

“Ray’s car just broke and we have to go with some friend of his, I have to take Klaus before we lose him and Vanya and Sissy left already, so... there's no place for you,” says Allison with a grimace, “Sorry.”

Y/N complains taking the ice from Diego's hands.

"Are you serious?"

"I'm sorry, really, Ray said that he offered his place for you, but you know he lives far away…”

Y/N doesn't live very far, but she can't go alone in the dark and Diego knows that.

“I'll take you home,” He offers.

“Diego…” starts Allison, but he cuts her off.

“It's not a game, I promise. Come on, I can't let her walk alone, I can watch over her,” He puffs out his chest.

"Okay, but if something else happens, I won't hesitate in saying the magic words to you, brother,” threatens Allison. The boy stirs uncomfortably knowing very well what the magic words are.

Both friends say goodbye and Allison returns to the party. It doesn't take long for her, her boyfriend, and brother to leave.

"Do you want to go?" Diego asks shyly and she nods.

***

The two of them walk slowly towards Y/N's house in a slightly awkward silence. She keeps holding her wrist.

"What did you mean before?" she asks suddenly.

"What?"

"When we were on the balcony, you said you didn't want to make fun of me anymore.”

Diego fortunately remembers Vanya's advices: ‘Don't be too hasty’, ‘Tell her how you feel when you get the chance’, ‘Don't scare her’, ‘Be honest’, ‘No, you can't just kiss her and then run away’.

He shakes his head and keeps walking.

“Sorry for being an idiot all these years. You may not believe me, but I want to try to fix things with you.”

"How?"

"Good question,” He replies with a grimace. “I don't know, these days I've tried to be nice to you, but you think I'm still playing– I don't blame you!” He raises his hands. “You have many reasons, but– I just want to say that…” He sighs. “I don't want to continue with that.”

She frowns in confusion, but also wants to know more.

"Why do you suddenly want to do it?"

"It's not something spontaneous, I- uh…” He fidgets. "Since I've known you, I wanted to be your friend and I thought you were beautiful and all,” He says with honesty. "But you always did your best to ignore me, so I did all those things to get your attention.”

Confession takes weight off his shoulders. Y/N stays silent, thinking about Diego's words. Without realizing it, they both arrive at her house. The girl steps forward a bit, but Diego takes her free hand and draws her.

"Listen, I know it's a lot to think about and you might not believe me, but I really want to be with you."

She knows that he’s not lying, Diego had never dared to talk to her like that, but there’s still something that prevents her from trusting him.

"What are you really asking me, Diego?"

He thinks about it and smiles sideways.

“I’m asking for an opportunity. Just one, you won't regret it.”

Y/N laughs at his confident demeanor, then he gets a little closer, looks directly into her eyes and puts a lock behind her ear with gentl e fingers.

"When we were kids,” She says, taking a step back. "I used to walk away from you because I thought you were cute, I liked you, but when you wanted to talk… I’d get nervous and run away,” She admits. "Then you started teasing me so I thought you hated me and eventually I gave up,” She shrugs.

Diego can't believe what he's hearing and feels stupider. He could’ve had the girl of his dreams much sooner if only things weren't wrong. They’re both silent, she waits for an answer but Diego continues to panic. Finally she sighs again.

"One chance, Hargreeves.” She points out and Diego's eyes lit up.

"Only one,” He says avoiding the urge to jump for joy. She shakes her head, but smiling sweetly.

Y/N goes up the stairs of her house and before opening the door she turns back to find Diego doing a very strange dance. As soon as he notices her look, he stops and smiles innocently.

"Good night, angel," He says, smirking.

"Good night, Diego.”

Would you like a second part?

#Diego Hargreeves #Number two #Umbrella Academy #Umbrella Academy fanfic #Diego x reader #Diego Hargreeves x reader #twoidiots writing

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