#anyhow WHY THOSE PUNCHES SOUND LIKE THAT

[ryllen]

sebek really said, i will give u a lifetime beating ur parent never gave u because they love u too much but u are too dumb to realize that

#fsdhs somehow i can never find the original image of that coach about to slap the arm of one of his sport player #even tho i find it really funny #twisted wonderland #twst #sebek zigvolt #twst silver #book 7 #twst yuu #twst mc #twst grim #fanart #anyhow WHY THOSE PUNCHES SOUND LIKE THAT #LIKE not exactly PONG! BUT AS COMICAL AS PONG! #FSDHSH SUCH A GAG GAME sometimes THEY JUST FOUND THE RIGHT TIME TO BE FUNNY

[fierymiasma]

✼ Drowning in Jealousy ✼ // Ominis x f!MC

Summary/Request: The hero of Hogwarts has been recently attracting a lot of unwanted attention from other boys. Jealous Ominis makes sure to remind his pretty little dove who she belongs to.

Requested by @slytherinpride94 Thank you so much 💗

Tags: NSFW, Smut, Jealous Ominis, Dominis, Choking, Hair Pulling, you have been warned

Words: 2.5k

|| Masterlist || AO3 ||

!! WARNING NSFW !!

"Will you just leave me alone, for once?" a familiar feminine voice asked.

Ominis froze in his steps.  The hero of Hogwarts was in their usual afternoon study spot in the library.  Notes she had copied down for Ominis already laid on the table before her.

Except, instead of the empty seat reserved for Ominis, there was someone in his place.

Ominis's wand revealed Porter, one of the 7th year boys who was always particularly rude towards pretty girls.

Unfortunately for her, Ominis's girlfriend was no exception.

The 7th year boy sitting in Ominis's seat leaned over, crowding her personal space.  "I came to ask you about that date again, do you remember?"

Her knuckles tightened on her quill.  "With your charm, how could I possibly forget?" she drawled sarcastically, not looking up from her Potions essay.  "I don't like to repeat myself.  I'm with Ominis." 

"C'mon, it's not like the guy can even see." The troll of a man persisted.  "He can't even see how pretty you are.  You're wasted on someone like him."

Ominis wasn't a jealous person.  Sebastian was jealous.  Ominis, well, Ominis was above such petty things.

So he wasn't quite sure what prompted him to interrupt their conversation, sliding in between his girlfriend and the offending idiot bothering her.

"Excuse me, I believe, she said she's not interested."  Ominis sneered.  "You must have troll brains up in that rather empty head of yours.  Figures, probably matches your face anyhow."

The other boy's face turned a blotchy red.  "I don't believe I was talking to you, Gaunt."  The other boy spat.  "It's a damn pity that she's seeing someone like you.  Knowing your family, you probably imperio-ed her into -"

WHACK!

Before Ominis could withdraw his wand from his sleeve, the other boy flew back, knocking over several chairs in the process.  Ominis frowned.  He didn't hear any spells.  It sounded like a fist colliding very hard with someone's face.  Pulling out his wand, it's familiar red glow illustrated the scene before him.

His usually gentle dove had finally stood up from her seat.  She was furious, knuckles now blooming with red.  The shock from her punch tingled up her arm.

Madam Scribner was going to come rounding the corner at any second.  Hand on the back of her waist, Ominis guided his tiny, furious girlfriend towards the library exit.  "Come, my love.  These gits aren't worth getting ourselves into trouble."

Ominis's touch was all that it took for her anger to deflate.  Gathering her belongings, she let Ominis escort her from the scene of the crime.  Though his lover's short temper might have been appeased, Ominis's wicked jealousy sure hadn't.  There was a small tremor in the tips of his fingers right where his hand was on the small of her back. 

How dare they? Ominis's arm tensed around her protectively.  How dare those boys try to make their claim on a woman when she was so clearly disinterested?  For shame, harassing someone like that.  Lost inside his swirling mind, he wasn't even aware of where he was leading her to until the telltale door of the Room of Requirement spun to life. 

His wand scanned the large space around him.  Good, they were alone here. 

"Ominis, why have you brought me here?  Are you alright?  Don't listen to Porter.  He's a moonmi-"

"Are you hurt, my love?" Ominis interrupted a bit harshly.  His trembling fingers running gently over her sore knuckles.

She blinked.  "Um, no, I don't think -"

It was all Ominis needed to hear before something in him snapped.  He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her rich scent before placing possessive kisses against it.  Her muscles loosened in surprise.  She instantly melted into him.  Her peaceful pleasure didn't last long before Ominis pulled her by her hair exposing her neck even more as he left dark marks in his wake. 

 "O-Ominis."  She was surprised at the rough treatment.

"You're mine."  His voice was soft yet firm.  It left no room for doubt. 

She could only let out a whimper in response. 

"Say it." He demanded, lips trailing up her neck towards her ear.  His hot breath tickled the nape of her neck.  Ominis bit her earlobe.  "Say that you're mine."

Shivering at the goosebumps erupting on her skin, she nodded feverishly.  "Yours, Ominis.  I'm yours." 

She could feel his lips curled into a smile against her jaw.  "Good girl."

Merlin, it was pathetic how wet she was from his words alone.

Ominis was unrelenting.  "Clothes, off.  Don't make me wait, dove."

Frenetic hands frantically undid her blouse buttons.  She feverishly stripped as fast as possible as Ominis accio'ed a bed closer to where the couple stood.

Uncharacteristically inpatient, Ominis turned to the still-undressing girl.  He was unable to wait.  Greedy hands mapped her body.  Her blouse now gone but bra and skirt were still in place.

Ominis would need to rectify that.  Trailing his hand up to her neck, he boldly wanted to try something dark that had been hidden in the back of his mind.

His large cold hand wrapped around her pretty throat, squeezing gently and experimentally.  His fingers dug into her skin, somehow dominating yet so careful around his flower.

She moaned, eyes fluttering shut.

A cruel smirk made its way on Ominis's face.  "Only I can see you like this, do you hear me?"

She tried to nod but Ominis's firm hand held her in place.  She mewled.

Satisfied with her answer, Ominis hand tightened around her neck before pushing his girl onto the bed behind her.  She fell, legs knocked apart, begging to be opened.  His other hand trailed down her body, marveling at the smooth, familiar curves of her body.  His fingers dancing along the band of her skirt before dipping underneath.

She leaned into his touch, desperate for more.

Ominis brain was a whirling storm.  She was his.  No one else's.  He could feel his girl completely soaking through her undergarments for him.  The wetness was shamelessly leaking through the material.  His fingers pressed firmly against the heat, drawing out a breathy gasp.

"You're so gorgeous, no one in all of Hogwarts can resist you."  His words were almost unrecognizable even to himself, deeper and more raspy.  "You've been such a good girl for me.  I'm going to make you forget everyone else but me."

Ominis had always treated her so delicately in bed, worshiping her.  He always whispered pretty compliments into her skin.  Never before had she had experienced anything like this. 

Letting go of her throat, he roughly hitched up her modest skirt to her stomach, eliciting a sound of alarm from his girl.  Her soaked undergarments still hid her essence away from him.  He growled.  Quickly pulling out his wand, he pointed it at her, vanishing her bra and underwear away, hopefully never to be worn again.

She squeaked in alarm, now completely exposed.  Her legs closing instantly, a bit embarrassed at how naked she was compared to Ominis, still fully dressed.

Her movements earned her a growl. Ominis fell to his knees, parting her quivering legs to make room for himself.  His face was so dangerously close to her wet center, she could feel Ominis's hot breath tickle her inner thighs.

"Fuck." He whispered to himself.  His arousal pulsed dangerously in his tight pants.  His mouth closed over her core, relishing in the thick arousal he tasted here.  His tongue dipped inside her, teasing her of things yet to come.  Throwing one of her legs over his shoulder, he dove deeper into her, worshiping her.

Her thighs tightened around his ears in a viper's hold around him, pulling him closer to her wet center.  Ominis couldn't breathe, gasping for air against her wet folds.  She was a siren, drowning her latest's victim between her thighs, and Ominis couldn't be more pleased to volunteer.

She hips began to move of their own accord, grinding against his wicked mouth.  Her eyes were shut in pure arousal.  Ominis's tongue sped up, occasionally pausing to suck her sensitive, swollen clit.  His firm hands gripped her before pulling her forward, half off the bed.

She's never felt such tense fire in her belly like this before.  Ominis could hear the pathetic stuttering whimpers that he was drawing out of his dove.  Her hands flew down to tightly pull in the strands of his hair.  A telltale tremble raced down her whole body.

"O-Ominis, I'm-"

Suffocating in her, he pulled her closer to his mouth, tongue working faster in response.

"D-don't stop!  Ah…!  Yesyesyes-"  Something tight snapped in her gut as she came over his face.  She felt dizzy and boneless, unsure if she was going to pass out from the way the very end of her nerves tingled.

"Please." She begged breathlessly, unsure exactly what she was asking. 

A growl ripped itself from his chest, as he stood up.  He surged forward, lips claiming her neck again, leaving bruising marks in her perfect skin.  His other hand reached for his trousers, fumbling them open to relieve the tight pressure around his cock. 

Throwing her arms around his back, she pulled him closer.  She never wanted to let go.  A hot blunt tip rubbed itself along her sensitive slit.  She gasped, still recovering from the aftershock of her organism.  Hips moving of their own accord, she tried to grind down onto him, begging for Ominis to take her. 

Ominis stilled.  His hands found her waist, holding her in place and preventing her from sinking down onto him.  "What would people think if they saw you like this? If they saw how the hero of Hogwarts was such an absolute slut."

She was delirious with want, only moaning in reply.

She could feel his smile widen against her collarbone.  "It's too bad they can't see you like this because you're mine.  No one else can have you."

Pulling her closer to him, he forced the full length of his cock into her in one smooth motion. She gasped, her walls trembled around his cock, still so sensitive.  Ominis never was like this, in all the time they've been together.  He's always been gentle, slow, methodical in his approach.

She liked this new side of him.  

His hips snapped forward relentlessly not giving her a moment's of rest.  Her eyes teared with pleasure as her nails left indents in the back of his shirt. The stark difference between a fully clothed Ominis and her completely naked self sent shivers down her spine. Her walls fluttered around his cock at every thrust, clamping down whenever Ominis brushed against her sensitive spot.  He was completely gone at this point.  His normally perfectly gelled hair fell out of place.  Strands of light blond hair cascaded in front of his eyes. 

"Mine.  You're mine."  He rasped, sucking on her neck. 

"I'm yours." she agreed eagerly.  His pounding was relentless.  His cock brushing up against that bundle of nerves that made her see white.

"I'm the only one who can see you like this."  Ominis reminded her.  His thrusts got deeper and harsher.  "Not Sebastian.  Not Garreth.  Not even fucking Porter."

She could feel his cock brush against a certain bundle of nerves, and she gasped in agreement.  It did not go unnoticed by Ominis.  Pulling her hips off the beg, he aimed for that spot with merciless precision in every stroke.

A man like Ominis could go mad just listening to the symphony of whimpers and moans from his dove.  The wet skin slapping each other, the sound of the bed rocking against the floors of the Room of requirement.  Ominis hissed, feeling the familiar warm coil tightening in his stomach.  His thrusts became more erratic and harsh.

It was too much.  She still hadn't recovered from earlier.  "F-fuck, O-ominis.  I-I'm so close."  she whined.  Her thighs trembled, on the precipice of another orgasm.  

Ominis chuckled against her neck,  His fingers moving to her clit, circling around it.

"O-Ominis." she begged. "P-please."

"Cum for me." he demanded roughly.

She moaned before finally reaching her climax.  Ominis's fingers still punishingly rubbing her clit as the tight walls around his cock spasmed.  His hips had not stopped, still brutally pumping his cock into her. 

"Good girl." he praised breathlessly.  He was so close. The knot that was building inside him completely unraveled.  As he bottomed out, he released inside of her.  His cock pulsed inside her velvety warmth. 

The feverish delirium abetted, leaving only cold embarrassment. How barbaric he treated her.  Pulling out of her, turned himself back into his pants.  He was raised better than this. Ominis ran thin fingers over her skin, hoping that his rough handling of her had not left bruises. 

With his wand, he tidied his girlfriend up, vanishing any bodily fluids and conjuring up a clean wet cloth for her.  Since they've been together he had always treated his dove with the delicate doting that she deserved.  So harsh and ugly were the challenges she faced both with Ranrok and within Hogwarts, did she not deserve some modicum of soft reprieve?

Ominis cringed as he laid besides her on the bed.  He had a clear mind now able to think back at the way his bruising grip tightened around her soft thighs as he licked her slit.  His fingers dug into her hips as he pulled her roughly against him.

He threw an arm around his face, embarrassed.  Ominis had acted on his baser instincts, and for what?  Because he got jealous over some stupid boys?  Ugh, he was no better than those trolls.

She shifted right besides him, basking in a warm after-glow.  She could already see the beginnings purplish bloom of finger-shaped bruises on her hips.  Delicately pressing on them, she was pleasantly happy to see that the memory of tonight would be etched into her very skin.

Ominis was too quiet next to her.  Turning to her other side, she say a very familiar pinched expression of Ominis's self-loathing.  She huffed.  Silly boy.  Probably distraught at how "un-gentlemanly" he was. 

Unbothered by her lack of clothing, she rolled on top of him, sitting on his hard stomach.  She was delighted at the shocked look of his face when he could feel her naked thighs slide along his bare skin.  He could probably feel how warm her center was.  Leaning over him, her undone hair cascaded down her shoulders, covering the two of them in a thick curtain.  The tips of her hair tickled his face.  Ominis could feel her warm breath as her lips hovered dangerously close to his.

"Let's do this again sometime."

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #hogwarts legacy #hl #hphl #ominis x reader #ominis x you #ominis x oc #ominis gaunt x you #dominis #fierymiasmawork

[oops-all-concrete]

BG3 fandom! I have more headcanons- but first!!

I must issue a very loud

⚠️SPOILER WARNING⚠️

For The Dark Urge playthrough of Baldurs Gate 3! There is no further warning below the cut, so if you care not to be spoiled, do not continue to read!

For those of you interested- ahead lies: Angst, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, blood, mentions of death, no MCD or any perma-death anyway, and lots of love. Greif and pain and emotional hurt are heavy themes as well!

Last warning! ⚠️Spoilers ahead⚠️

I've just gotten to this point in the Dark Urge run (where you reject Bhaal and fucking) DIE, and DUDE- I am stunned companions say NOTHING to your LITERAL DEATH after rejecting Bhaals gift or whatever. (Not in the scenes anyway) So, I'm writing how I think they'd respond cinematically, because your lively Durges deserve to be mourned and loved.

(Of course in-game this would be limited to the dialogue, but I've describes how they would be animated anyhow)

Lae'zel -

She's running to Durge the moment they start lifting from the ground, but pauses once their eyes start rolling back and blackening. There's something beyond her control happening, and she needs it to stop- and it does. With Tav hitting the floor eyes black, soul gone. She's immediately yelling at the others to do something, hand her a scroll, something- but nothing is working. Her shoulder slump after a good few minutes. And finally her voice breaks. She holds a hand to her chest as she wails in agony, holding her Tavs body like it's the last time- because to her- it is. "My angel, my moon. My great protector. I have failed you" She hisses, eyes scrunched shut.

Shadowheart -

She's been afraid her whole life. But even in the face of Bhaal, she will not be afraid if it means Tav will be safer. She immediately casts warding bond, if they're in danger, she'll halve it. If you're going to get hurt, so shall she- and she's okay with that. "Hang on-!" And then it all goes black, she falls without a word or scream, but she's content. If she dies protecting Durge, she cannot ask for better.

(After cutscene convo) Once Durge has been revived by Withers, it's up to them to get a scroll and revive her from the bloodied mess on the floor. She's stunned and confused, but the moment she sees Tav okay she couldn't care less. Why did you do that? "It might sound silly, but I was scared that you would be alone through whatever was about to happen. I don't regret it, if you're wondering"

Wyll -

"Gods- NO!" He shouts, a hand reaching out for them as they hit the ground. He's over them in a flash, holding their head in his arms, trying desperately to wake them, find a pulse, wake up himself and have this all be some sick nightmare. But of course, no such thing happens. The Tav he knows and loves just ceased living before his eyes. There's blood soaking into his every apparel and he's crying his eye out. It crosses his mind. Mizora is powerful- even if she can't fix this, she will know someone or something that can. He'd give anything- his whole life, he'd gladly be a lemure if it gave Tav back. He almost calls for her- until Withers starts his speech. (During the 'your rejection of Bhaal has earned you a place among heroes' section of his dialogue, he'll turn to Wyll and add: 'No devil's, demons or feinds required, I assure you')

Karlach -

If she wasn't raging before, she is now. A tomb-rocking scream echoes around the chamber, eyes wide with horror, body shaking and burning all over, engine out of control but she couldn't care less. One of the others will tell her to calm down. "FUCK THAT! FUCK EVERYTHING! FUCK THE GODS ABOVE AND THE HELLS BELOW." She roars. It goes on, swearing, screaming, swinging- and then, finally- collapse. She drops to her knees and punches the hard ground next to Tavs body, sobbing and exhausted. Withers walks in the the most gut-wrenching agonised scream of why

Gale -

He's frozen as it happens. His hands crackle with weave but he can't move. He needs to do something- anything, but time moves without him. All he knows is he can't breathe, all he can smell is blood and he thinks he's going to be sick. He can hear invisible bones cracking, distant blood dripping and their last choke. The wizard stumbles forward, barely making it to their body before collapsing beside them, on his knees and positively glowing from the mark on his chest. The orb can sense his distress and buzzes within him, as though it can smell the death. He pulls and hand to his mouth, kissing it gently- unable to comprehend a kiss goodbye. "Oh- Gods. Oh my love" he sobs, brows furrowed in what looks like physical pain. "I'm so sorry... I'm so, so sorry..." He wheezes out, scarcely finding breath.

Astarion -

He doesn't let their head hit the ground. He's swift as he catches them, but frantic as he sets their head on his thighs as a pillow. He pulls open their eyelids only to find a blackened core beneath, animalistic and distinctly unfamiliar. "Wake up, damn you...not after all this! You don't get to go!" He yells sounding genuinely furious- like he was going to get violent. If any of the others approach he doesn't notice. "We still have a cult to cull, we have a brain to control- I need you!" He yells, voice raw and eyes wet, the anger melting into greif. He makes a sheild of himself over Durge when Withers walks in, dagger/shortsword in hand, teeth bared, despite his damp face.

(Withers greets Astarion: 'Cry no more Spawn of sanguine- the universe is finally in your favour')

(Only Halsin is romanced for obvious reasons, but closeness is still implied for Minsc and Jaheira)

Halsin -

He catches Durge on the way down, their head on his chest as he lays them down over himself. "My heart? Can you hear me? Please say something" He begs hands glowing with healing magic, eyes aglow as well. He tries for a little, but then his breathing changes entirely, a small hushed gasp sounds from him, his he starts shaking his head, eyes wide. "Oh- oh Gods- Silvannus, please- I cannot bear to lose- oh Gods" He gasps, breath becoming harsher- finally letting tears fall. "Oak Father- please, wherever they go- keep them safe" he prays, teeth gritted in agony.

Jaheira -

She looks away as Tavs life is sapped away, unable to watch another Bhaalspawn friend suffer. When all falls still and silent, she looks among the other companions, shocked and frozen. "They're at peace now. Take comfort in knowing they chose to keep you all safe." She says with a proud nod- but her eyes are wet and her nose scrunched a little with a sniff.

Minsc -

There's small squeaking in the berserkers ear, before he sighs, almost a sob and speaks with a tired voice. "Wise words, Boo. I only wish our friend could hear you" Before he turns away, unable to look at them on the floor. "I am proud to have called them our friend. We should make them proud in return"

Hope you enjoyed! To the lovely people who have made requests, I will get to them as soon as I can!! Thank you for the requests, and please feel free to send me more!

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #wyll ravengard #gale dekarios #lae'zel #karlach #shadowheart #bg3 headcanons #astarion headcanons #gale headcanons #karlach headcanon #wyll headcanons #lae'zel headcanons #shadowheart headcanons #x tav #dark urge #bg3 dark urge #bg3 durge #x dark urge

[firstofficerwiggles]

Hello! I've binged so much of your writing today and oh my gods, I love it!

I hope I'm not too late to get in on the ask, but one of the star wars boys writing to me would be lovely. I'm over 50, and it's hard to admit this but I've never been on the receiving end of romantic gestures. Don't get me wrong, there's been much love in my life - practical, solid, occasionally goofy - but no romance.

Maybe it's my work? State Department, medic of various sorts including search and rescue, now a security guard. Practical stuff. But I also adore tea parties, and gardens, and steampunk and the entire Star Wars universe. Right now I'm building a Mandalorian medic outfit for conventions because bad ass medic who WILL shoot the asswipe who put that gaping hole in you? Yes.

Anyhow, sorry for babbling on and on at you. Whichever of the ones you think would romance an older woman, and would enjoy being spicy with a lady that can take a punch or dish one out, who grows flowers that also make a useful poultice to clear up that nasty bruise, hm?

Many thanks!

Aelf

Welcome to my blog! I’m so glad you found it and that you’re enjoying my writing. I can’t thank you enough for your kind words 💗 I’m going to ship you with Din Djarin for several reasons, first, I think Din loves badass women with a softer side too, and also because Din definitely needs his own personal medic 😂 (for the Mando’a: cyar’ika = sweetheart, ner kar’ta = my heart)

Cyar’ika,

How are you, my love? I miss you more than I can say. I’m finally headed home after this latest mission for the New Republic. Why is it that so many of their missions need to take place in places that are more swamp than land? I swear I’m going to be scrubbing the beskar for a full week after this glop. I’m also not ashamed to admit that I’m going to need some patching up when I get back to you. I promise I was trying to be careful, but chasing after Trandoshans in a place infested with vines and the galaxy’s biggest mud puddles was a recipe for falling on my ass. Speaking of, there’s probably a few bruises there that I could use your help with. Thankfully I know you don’t mind looking at said ass. Mmm, and you know, if your ass needs any checking, I’m always available. In fact when I get home, I say we send the kiddo to go visit Auntie Peli, and then we get into a nice hot, soapy tub and you can inspect every inch of me, and you know I’m going to want to return that favor. Plus, as I reminded you last time, your kisses do even more for me than your medicines. I think I need to spend at least one entire evening sampling those sweet lips of yours while you’re in my arms. That sounds like sheer heaven to me. And well, you’re always telling me I need to spend more time in bed, so of course, we’ll need to spend several hours there too. It’s important for my health, and for yours too, because I’m sure you need to have some tension relieved like only I can. In fact I intend to see how often I can relieve that tension for you all night long. Ah, ner kar’ta, I wish I were home right now. I can’t wait to hear you saying my name and telling me how much you missed me too. The moment I see you, this helmet is coming off and I’m going to kiss you like something out of one of those romantic holofilms you love so much. You know what, I’m also going to send a message to Peli right now, she might need to keep the baby for a few days, because I think I need lots of extra time to remind you how special you are to me. Until then, take care, cyar’ika and know that I’m hurrying back to you.

Love,

Din

Send in an ask for Wiggles' 1200 Follower Celebration

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #wiggles follower celebration

[varricscrossbowbianca]

Letter from King Alistair to his romanced Warden

i wrote something for my fic a while back and just wanted to post that part here as well (under the cut because it's long)

for context: the warden (amell in this case) had disappeared after the celebrations when the archdemon was defeated and they only reappeared ten years later (at the start of inquisiiton)

‘’My dearest Mary,

to be quite honest with you, I do not know how to start this letter properly. Well, I guess I just did. I don’t want to take too much away, since I want to tell you so, so much, in person. I need to know it’s really you who came back after...ten long years. And I know I’ll say that I keep this letter short but you know me, once I start rambling I won’t be able to stop. You always listened to my ramblings anyhow, so I might just as well make it as long as I please.

I miss you. I know this simple sentence is not enough to express just how much I miss you. How much I have missed you. All I want is to see your beautiful, your extremely beautiful and wonderful face again. I know you’d punch me if I didn’t say that. And all the things I’m not saying you’d probably punch me for, too. This may sound odd and makes it sound exactly like I’ve been raised by dogs but...I miss your scent, even. You had left your purple scarf at the feast, which I have kept ever since. I tried giving it to Barkspawn, maybe he would have been able to find you but I think it just made him more sad, as it did make me, as well. You told me you had made your own perfume while we were out on the road. We didn’t have much time for bathing. Not like there’s a bathtub in the middle of the woods, anyhow. Anyway, you made this perfume which had...lemongrass and basil in it? I just remember thinking ‘’Why does it smell like lemon cakes and where can I get them?’’ And it was you. I have to admit, I used your perfume on one occasion. Alright, maybe twice. For my hair. Zevran actually asked me about it but your secret ingredients were safe with me.

I miss you at night as well.

The dreams of the darkspawn happen more frequently recently. I don’t know what it means, perhaps you have an answer to that? I miss being able to ask you to sleep next to each other when the nightmares were too much to bear alone. When it was the middle of the night and I awoke from one of those dreams. I went to you. And of course you were already awake, having had the same dreams. No one could ever replace that, you know. I couldn’t. When the nightmares get bad again, I imagine you lying next to me, hugging me and telling me it will be alright. I don’t know if that’s-- if that’s odd and you think of me as some creep who imagines his girlfriend best friend when she’s...when she was—well.

I don’t know what force has brought you back but I am very much glad that you are. I don’t know why you haven’t written me first, why Leliana gave me the news, but to be fair, she was always like this, wasn’t she. She knows everything, and I mean everything, probably even what I’ve had for breakfast when I barely remember. Was it cheese? Who am I kidding, it was obviously cheese.

I am also sure she secretly read this letter, she just needs to stuck her nose into everything hah. So, uh, hi Leliana, please don’t kill me for writing this.

You know, I actually had dreams about you. Made me think I knew where you were and if I just concentrated enough, I could find out where you were hiding. I never did. You never answered me in those dreams, either. It was very strange and different from the time we were stuck in the Fade at the Circle. The dreams I have had of you felt somewhat real. Were you by any chance searching for something? You looked like you did. You also had a jester’s hat on and were playing lute. Alright, that part was a lie. Honestly, you looked tired most of the time. I was trying to reach out to you but no matter how loud I screamed, you couldn’t hear me. I know you wouldn’t purposely ignore me, you wouldn't.

Were you searching for me?

It was probably my imagination that got the better of me.

Why did you leave?

You will tell me when you get here, which surely will be soon. There are some things that I have said. You have no idea how much I wished I could go back to that day and…

I never wanted you to leave. I wanted you to—I want-- I will tell you when you are here.

You deserve that much. You deserve. Mary, you deserve so much more than that.

I- oh wow, I seem to be as bad as ending letters as I am at beginning them.

I can’t wait to see you again. I mean it. I can not wait. It has been ten very, very long years.

Just come back to me. I will hug you for all the times you’ve been gone. Which would result in us hugging for...a long time. I wouldn’t mind. I would stay that way until the end of time.

Did you...did you think of me? In those ten years. I mean, of course you must have. Not easy to forget, am I? Right? I have been wondering all that time what you had been up to, I knew you weren’t dead, you couldn’t have been. You are the strongest woman that I know. You know that, right?

So? Did you- think of me? I have thought about you. Well, that’s an understatement.

You know, you must know. I’ve always believed in you. And I always will.

Come back. Be here. With me.

In love You are always on my mind,

Alistair (you know the guy with the perfect hair and expertise for cheese)''

#dao #da:o #alistair theirin #warden amell #alistair x warden #alistair x amell #. my writing #. it's so cheesy ahahaha damn #. i only changed it slightly to what i posted on ao3 (just like one sentence or so)

[yyh4ever]

The Strongest Couple, Bonds of Love!

"Yu Yu Hakusho 100% Maji Battle" Valentine's Event

This limited event was first held from February 3rd to February 28th, 2021. After Enki has become the king of the Demon World, the barrier was removed and demons where free to travel between Human World and Demon World. In this story, Enki tries to adopt events and activities from the Human World into the Demon World. He calls Yusuke to help him out, but…

Video: 

Translation:

"The Strongest Couple, Bonds of Love!"

[At the Human World, Yusuke is on the phone with someone…]

Yusuke: ...Ooh, ooh. Ah, I see.

Yusuke: It can't be helped, right? I'm free right now, so I'm coming over there.

Yusuke: See ya!

*ka-chak* (Yusuke hangs up the phone)

  [At the Demon World]

  Enki: Sorry I called you out of the blue! I didn't think you'd come.

Yusuke: I regret it, you're exploiting me, man. You wanna adopt Human World events in the Demon World?

Yusuke: Did you call me because you're having trouble coming up with ideas?

Enki: No, I've already got an idea.

Yusuke: Huh?

*step* *step* *step* (sound of heavy footfall)

Yusuke: ...Ptooey!

Koko: .......

Yusuke: Hahahahahahaha!

Yusuke: That's not how it is supposed to be, oi! Have you gone out your mind!?

Enki: Hey, come on, don't say such things! That's how Valentine's Day works in the Human World, right?

Yusuke: I, I can't stop laughing! Where did you get that information?!

Yusuke: Seriously, man, it's too unexpected!

Koko: I, I, I am...

Koko: I am not doing this because I want to!

 *PUNCH!* *SNAP!* (Koko beats them)

Yusuke/Enki: Urgh!

[Koko changes back]

Koko: Hmph, that's why I didn't want to wear it.

Enki: Oh noooooo, I'm so sorry. I just misunderstood Valentine's Day…

Enki: But, it really looked good on you, huh?

Koko: .........

Enki: I asked and wanted you to wear it because I thought it would look good on you.

Koko: ...I'd never have worn this kind of clothes if you hadn't told me!

Koko: Oh my, whatever...

Enki: No, let's reconsider. There's still time.

Koko: If you say so, but I'm ... okay with this...

Yusuke: Damn it. What the heck? 

Yusuke: I wasn't called here just to watch you guys talk about your lovey-dovey relationship! 

Enki: No, you were not! I really want your opinion on the idea.

Yusuke: Yeah, yeah, enough of that ​ lovey-dovey talk.

Enki: Hahaha, I'm stumped. Anyhow, we've got to come up with solid plan.

Koko: We need to think of something as amusing as the Human World!

Enki: Alright, then I'll do my best for Valentine's Day!

Enki/Koko: Right!

– The End – 

That was just a short story. But, since we don't get to see Koko and Enki so much, I thought it would be worth translating it. I love Koko's dress and shoes. I don't know from whom or what kind of information Enki got about Valentine's Day, but I'd dress those clothes lol. It looks like a german folk costume. 

#最強夫婦、愛の絆! #Yu Yu Hakusho 100% Maji Battle #The strongest couple a bond of love! #Enki #Koko #Yusuke Urameshi #valentine's day #yu yu hakusho #Makai

[slynbarnes]

Embers: S1 E16-25

S1 E16: 

(In the car) 

Y/N: How was school?

L: It was okay. 

Y/N: Just okay? 

L: Yeah… Mom, why can’t we go back home? I miss my room.

Y/N: It’s not safe to go back home sweetie. 

L: Why? 

Y/N: Because bad people were keeping us there and now if we go back those bad people will hurt mommy. So we are staying with the good guys for a while. I’m sorry this happened kiddo. 

L: I miss home. 

Y/N: (Feeling horrible about everything.) I know buddy.

S1 E17:

(You walk Lucas to the bus stop and then go to training with Buck) 

B: You’re late. 

Y/N: I had to walk Lucas to the bus stop. It took longer than I thought. 

B: Well, plan accordingly next time. 

Y/N: Can we just get this over with. 

B: I’d like nothing more. 

Y/N: Where do you want to start?

B: Punching bag.

Y/N: Are you kidding me? You can’t challenge me at least?

B: Can you not complain, it’s the first session. 

Y/N: Well, maybe I wouldn’t complain if you weren’t such an ass. 

B: Maybe I wouldn’t be such an ass if you would just listen. 

Y/N: Fine, I’ll hit the punching bag. (You knock it off the chain while looking right at Bucky.) 

B: God you are such a child. 

Y/N: You wanted me to hit it so bad. 

(The rest of training goes not much better.) 

S1 E18:

(You have a nightmare about being tortured in HYDRA) 

(You wake gasping for air.)  

(You go in to check on Lucas, he is still asleep. You go down to the kitchen to pour yourself a drink but Bucky is in there.) 

Y/N: Great…

B: I’m not happy to see you either sunshine. 

Y/N: Don’t call me that. 

B: Alright sunshine. 

Y/N: Say it again and I’ll stab you with a fork. 

B: Why a fork?

Y/N: Because it sounds fun. Good enough reason?

B: Your testy. 

Y/N: You started this! 

B: Right because I am the one who walked in here annoyed to see me. 

Y/N: Screw you! (You take your drink and leave.) 

(Thinking to yourself) “He is the one who started all of this by getting weird about a question.”  

S1 E19: 

(There is a knock on your door while you are helping Lucas with homework) 

Y/N: Come in! 

W: Hey!!! It’s time to start getting ready! 

Y/N: What are we getting ready for? 

W: Tony didn’t tell you? 

Y/N: Tell me what? 

W: We are having one of his famous Stark parties tonight. Don’t worry Lucas will be long asleep before it starts but we should look nice.

Y/N: I don’t have anything to wear. 

W: I have that covered. (She holds up a garment bag) 

Y/N: Lucas will you be okay if I go?

L: Of course you go have some fun. I am almost finished anyways. Then I was gonna read before bed. 

Y/N: Okay. I love you and if you need anything you know how to find me. 

L: I know. I love you too mom. 

S1 E20: 

(You walk into the party and all eyes are on you.) 

(You head straight for the bar, nervous about being here so out of place.) 

Y/N: One of whatever your strongest drink is.

Thor: You might want a swig of this if you’re looking for something strong. (Thor offers his flask) 

Y/N: What is it? 

Thor: Asgardian Whiskey. It’ll do the trick trust me. (You take a swig and pucker your face) 

Y/N: That’s horribly strong. (Thor nods at you.) Thanks. 

Thor: Don’t mention it. Care to dance? 

Y/N: I’m not much of a dancer, but thank you.

Thor: Suit yourself. It was nice to meet you…

Y/N: Y/N… and you are?

Thor: It’s nice to meet you y/n. I’m Thor the God of Thunder.

Y/N: It’s nice to meet you as well Thor. You’re an Avenger right?

Thor: I am. You must be the girl Bucky found.

Y/N: Yeah…something like that.

B: You’re talking about me? (He asks curiously) 

Y/N: Why would I ever talk about you? 

B: That’s what I’m trying to figure out. 

(Thor leaves admits the tension and heavy eye contact between the two of you.) 

Y/N: Thor asked if you found me. Period. Nothing further. 

B: Right, why are you here anyhow? Shouldn’t you be taking care of your son? Kind of irresponsible of you isn’t it?

Y/N: How I chose to parent my son is my business. Not yours you ass. He is asleep and I am a grown adult allowed to have a night to have some damn fun. So if you will excuse me.

(You leave.) 

N: That was out of line. 

B: Leave it. 

N: I’m just trying to help. I thought you were her friend but that was pretty cruel.

B: I said leave it! 

N: (Puts her hands up surrendering.) 

S1 E21: 

N: We should play a game. 

Thor: What kind of game?

Y/N: What about 7 minutes in heaven?

B: No. 

Y/N: Awe are you scared? 

B: I’m not scared of anything, doll. 

Y/N: Don’t call me that. 

T: (Rolls his eyes) 

N: Enough you two. Who wants to play 7 minutes in heaven?

(Everyone but Buck raises their hands) 

Y/N: It’s settled then. (You down your beer.) Here. Use my bottle. (You spin it.) 

(Lands on Nat and then on Steve.) 

Y/N: Ok you two, have fun. 7 minutes starts when the door closes.

(A few minutes later they come back out and Nat is blushing.) 

(Nat spins this time and it lands on Tony and Pepper.) 

(Tony spins this time and it lands on you and Bruce.) 

B: (Stands up with an angry/annoyed look on his face.) 

Yelena: What’s his problem?

Y/N: You tell me and we will both know. He was nice at first but now he seems to hate me. I don’t know he’s annoying.

T: (Whispers something to Yelena) 

(You and Bruce leave and you kiss him. It’s actually really good.) 

S1 E22: 

(You just dropped Lucas off at school) 

(There is a knock at your door.) 

Y/N: It’s open.

T: Hey, how are you doing. 

Y/N: I’m doing alright. A little hang over from last night. But otherwise alright. How are you?

T: I’m good. I wanted to talk to you about something. 

Y/N: Shoot. 

T: I want you to start going on missions with us. 

Y/N: Okay. When?

T: Whenever we get our next assignment I will expect to have you there. It will earn you room and board. You can always do extras if you need money for anything else. 

Y/N: Sounds fair. It’s not like I will be qualified for a regular job now anyhow. 

T: How long were you in Hydra? 

Y/N: After my parents died, when I was 17 I got in with the wrong people and ended up dropping out of highschool. The people I was involved with told me I had to kill or be killed. Pierce found me dying on the side of the road one night and saved my life. Then they tortured me. They injected me with a serum that made me unnoticeably strong and fast. It’s different than the other super soldiers my strain is unique and tailored to me specifically so I became a prize to them. I always assumed that’s why they didn’t hurt Lucas but I’m not sure. Believe it or not I’m 74 years old. So I was in Hydra for 56 years since they found me not long after I turned 18. 

T: I’m sorry. 

Y/N: Don’t be. It was my own fault. But now all I know how to do it fight and there are not exactly many jobs out there for that. So thank you for taking me in and giving me the opportunity to work with you.

T: I’ll admit it took some convincing but I am glad I did. You are not at all what I thought you would be. 

Y/N: (You smile.) Thanks, I think.

T: It’s a good thing. I’ll see you later. I have other work to attend to. 

Y/N: Bye Tony.

S1 E23:

(In the lounge.) 

BB: Y/N, it’s nice to see you. 

Y/N: Hi Bruce. (You smile) 

BB: Can I ask you something?

Y/N: You just did but sure. 

BB: (Blushes) Are you busy?

Y/N: Right now? Nope. 

BB: Would you go on a date with me?

Y/N: So forward. I like it. Why not. When? 

BB: Now?

Y/N: Now?

BB: If your still not busy. 

Y/N: Of course not. Can I meet you back here in 20 minutes?

BB: Sounds like a plan to me. 

(You leave and get ready.) 

(You go on your date. It’s really nice.) 

(Add dialogue when editing.) 

S1 E24:

(You are in the training room) 

Y/N: Why all of the hand to hand combat? We will have weapons you know?

B: Because I said so. 

Y/N: (In a mocking tone.) Because I said so. (Under your breath) Ok mom. 

B: God you are annoying. 

Y/N: I am annoying? 

B: Yes you are. You act like a child. 

Y/N: Says the one trying to teach me things I learned over 50 years ago. 

B: And you clearly need a refresher. 

Y/N: (You come face to face with him) Oh is that so. Shall we test my skills?

N: (Walking in on it.) Enough. Bucky go cool off. I’ll train y/n.

B: (Walks away annoyed.) 

Y/N: Thank you. 

N: Don’t thank me. Buck is my friend and although I don’t like how he is acting, I don’t like how you are either. 

Y/N: He started all of this. 

N: Don’t. I’m not the one. 

(You continue to train.) 

S1 E25: 

B: (Walks through the lounge muttering shit under his breath.) 

W: What’s his deal?

S: He was training with y/n.

T: I thought they were friends? 

S: They are.. I think. That’s what Bucky said. 

Vis: They have quite an odd friendship. 

W: Agreed.

[ruin-iii]

Untoward

To become a fixture on this tavern floor is to unlearn all that she had been taught.

A back rendered straight by bells of book balancing now falls into a far more comfortable slouch, creating a less-than-graceful arc over the table. Of course, it ends in elbows, and those elbows end in digits, half of which incessantly cascade into taps upon the wood to contribute to the din. Sure, she keeps her legs together — with her boot-bottoms kicked up onto the footrest, rubbing off mud where she forgot to at the door. Her head is canted to one side, her visage in a shadow cast by flickering light, and she refuses to connect with the gaze of a single soul about her. It’s easier to hide the points of her ears that way, anyhow.

Here, the principle of posture is an unorganized religion. While the upper class of the Pillars adheres to the Holy See’s decree, painting their faces in deceptively perfect porcelain, the Brume-born let their rust blossom on every joint and hinge. A Rorschach test for those that gaze upon them seeking a mirage of solace, or a punching bag.

Imogen is blue blood in a dirty glass. A highborn parasite supping on the swill of the less fortunate. For all of her efforts to play a part, indulging in those base wants of her adolescence — the voice of her youth resounding in her mind, asking why she can’t kick her feet up — she’s still uncomfortable in this snakeskin she’s donned.

“This seat taken?”

The aqua in her eyes evaporates up, up to the sound piercing the shroud of noise about them. For all the rust about this woman, her voice is like a polished, ringing bell. Imogen navigates the inkblot test of the stranger’s mannerisms — and perhaps this is only true to an outsider like her — the woman was born on this broken cobble, as she meanders about the tavern like it’s home.

“No...pe. Nope."

“Great.” The stranger plops herself down on the stool, legs naturally curling to press her toes into the footrest, kicking heels against the chair legs as she goes. Her elbows plant themselves into the table, roots growing stalks of lazy, skewed arms. It’s funny, watching someone as tall as her curl so effortlessly about the table, Imogen having not inherited that towering elezen gene herself, and so she finds herself gawking like a child at a petting zoo.

It takes her only a glance. “Not from around here, are you?”

“... Nope.” This final iteration of the word is uttered shamefully from Imogen’s lips. 

“Had a feeling. You look like a fish out of water trying to act untoward.”

The corner of Imogen’s mouth slightly upturns as she says, “You’re saying I look thirsty?”

“Well, yeah. You’ve hardly touched your drink. D’you want a different one?”

“No thanks.” Her lips rest back into a line.

“Alright.”

So, they drink in silence.

The spindly figure of her gangly company is replaced with another, then another — some of whom don’t give her the time of day and others who attempt even more conversation, but to no avail. She is furniture, a mantlepiece, the only fixture amid the Lazy Susan of bar patrons about her.

Thus begins a habit for moons to come. 

#ch: imogen lafontaine #a: unsung prompts

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Lost Boys: Call 911

GIF by lostinsantacarla

Paul x Reader

Word Count: 2,550

Summary: Reader is out on patrol as part of the Santa Carla PD when they respond to a call out at the wharf. 

Amid the riotous flare of fireworks and fire crackers, it was difficult to make out the quickly approaching cop car but Marko prided himself on being observative.

Paul, Paulie, P-Man, his forever partner on the other hand…

Grabbing Paul by the front of his tank, he pulled the other vampire down to hiss in his ear. “We got company. We bail on my signal, got it?”

The honey blonde nodded distractedly, mesmerized by the bright bursts of colors overhead. The reds and blues and whites and pinks mixed with the curtain of smoke, creating a kaleidoscope against the inky night sky. 

He only heard part of what Marko was gripping about—something about a signal—but it wasn’t his fault he was having so much fun.

Another of their fireworks went off from behind Max’s Video, making him laugh even harder when some empty pallets became collateral. They splintered into pieces, the crunching sound of the wood masked by the other explosions.

Nothing said summer time fun like launching some Big Boys at the video store. It was a rockin’ light show and piss-off-Max scheme all wrapped in one. The crochety, old douche in question would no doubt have some choice words for them later but Paul wasn’t thinking about that; the only thing on his mind was blowing shit up.

In fact, he was so into it that he wasn’t prepared for the sharp punch to his ribs. He flew into the wall as Marko ran past, scampering to get airborne. “Go, go, go!”

The back door to the store opened with such force that it banged into the wall with a loud crack. Paul could sympathize. Two officers came through and before he could even think to pick himself up and run, they were on him.

The rounder of the two sat on his back, putting all his pounds into pinning Paul down. Normally, he would’ve thrown him off and maybe, probably, killed him, no sweat.

But.

There were too many people around that could catch him in the act. There’s no way Max would step in and not even Paul was stupid enough to slaughter that many people in plain sight.

Marko, he whined through the bond. A little help, bud? I’m kinda stuck.

All he got back was a manic cackle.

Paul squawked in outrage, knowing that the other would not be lending an assist. That traitor was all too content to sit back and laugh at him.

Whatever.

Screw him then.

It’s not like Paul had never been hauled in before anyhow.

“You know,” he grunted to the cop on his back, “It’s a good thing you’re not fat or anything, otherwise this would be more difficult.”

The knee dug into his back even harder and his head was pulled back by his hair. It didn’t hurt that much but still! He worked for hours to make his hair look good!

“Police brutality! I have rights, you know!” he yelled. The cop was starting to get on his nerves.

His face was shoved back into the ground and he ate gravel, sputtering to get the pebbles and grime out of his mouth with mixed success. The taste lingered and the only way to get rid of it would be to wash it down with something—

Hmm. He hadn’t planned on feeding that night but some pig blood would take care of it nicely.

He attempted to at least think of an isolated spot to rip out his throat without getting caught. Maybe in the cop car. Maybe he could drag him to the bushes outside of the station.

Oh! If the guy stopped for doughnuts, he could steal the car—doughnuts sounded good though. A nice chocolate glaze with sprinkles or something filled with strawberry jelly! The corner store on the boulevard had the best selection this time of night. He needed more hairspray, too, as long as he was at it, a magazine or three—he shook his head.

Come on, self, get it together!

“I’m going to find the one that ran. Officer Y/LN, you take this idiot back to the car and sit tight until I get back.”

Roughly, he was hauled to his feet and he had been so focused on the tub of lard that had him on the ground that he forgot two cops had burst through the door.

He planted his feet and refused to be moved as he glanced at the second one. It was like pushing at a stone wall, the other at his back unable to shove him into motion.

Immediately, Paul realized his mistake.

Why was he so occupied with that other asshole when he could’ve been looking at you, been pressed up against you the entire time?

The saying was that everyone loved a person in uniform and Paul was no exception. You made the normally dull standard navy uniform look good, the short sleeves showing off your arms and the pants managed to cup your ass in the tastiest way.

He’d cup your ass even better, if you gave him the chance.

Even the serious, disapproving scowl on your face was hot. What he wouldn’t do to get you to make that face with you on top of him, manhandling him any which way you wanted.

Screw his little feeding plan. He was willing to spare your partner in exchange for getting to know you better.

A big happy smile stretching across his face, he finally moved, dragging your partner rather than being forced forward.

“Hey, sexy,” he said with his signature wink, the one that always got him what he wanted with people. “Name’s Paul.”

To his disappointment, you didn’t respond and merely took control of his handcuffed hands as they were passed over.

As you lead him back through the video store, he pulled his arms to the left, acting like he was trying to resist. Just like he expected, you corrected him with a strong, tight grip that sent a rush down his spine.

“Ouch, babe, not so rough,” he purred. “I’m very sensitive.”

He glanced back quick to see your reaction and his bottom lip pushed out in a pout. You still wore a straight face that gave nothing away. No clenched jaw, no embarrassed tightening of your eyes. Definitely no hint of an amused smile.  

Gods, babe. You were really testing him.

Guess he’d have to try harder.

*** 

You were new to the Santa Carla Police Department. Very new. New as in it was your first incident on your first night on patrol.

It was just your luck that you’d ended up with airhead who’d set off a whole fireworks display right outside of a crowded store, which could have serious injury, and was now trying to flirt his way out of it.

Hell—was he pouting?

For a city of its size, Santa Carla PD had a surprising number of job openings. You were new to the area, having moved because it seemed like a nice, sunny California beach town and you were in need of a change.

You didn’t have any prior experience but you’d passed all the screenings and tests and expected the job offer they made. It had benefits, the pay was good, and, importantly, it was legal which seemed to be in short supply around these parts.

That last part was a surprise, especially with the high number of missing people’s cases; you’d think that more places would be desperate to fill jobs, too.

Steering the suspect towards the check out counter, you flagged down the owner who had been the called in to the station.

He turned towards you with a smile on his face and greeted you politely. “Hello, officer.”

“We caught one suspect, sir. The other fled the scene and my partner went after him. I’ll get started on the report—are you planning to press charges?”

The smile was suddenly no where to be seen and he casted a glare at the handcuffed blonde.

“But of course. I’ve told this degenerate and the others in this gang to stay out of here a hundred times before. They’ve gone too far this time.”

The suspect merely shrugged his shoulders and winked at you which set the owner off further.

“That! That right there is what I’m talking about. No respect, no conduct. How is a father supposed to parent if he gets no respect? Maybe they’re missing a motherly influence,” he trailed off.

A motherly influence? Okaaay, then.

Clearing your throat, you tried to bring the conversation back to topic. “Yeah…Well let me put him in the car and then we can get started on the report. Have a good night, sir.”

That should’ve been the end of it but of course the blonde had to open his big mouth. “Bye daddy!”

Max’s hand came down heavy on the counter and you jostled the boy away before he managed to start a full-blown confrontation.

“You surely have a big mouth for someone who’s being arrested. Don’t make things worse for yourself.”

His head perked up and you had to really plant your weight to keep him from turning around and sending you flying into a display in the process. Definitely stronger than he looked.

You noted that piece of information just in case he tried anything else.

“Aww. Are you worried about me?” he cooed. “Don’t be. I trust you to protect me, officer.”

“Any one ever tell you that you’re ridiculous?”

“All the time,” he nodded happily.

The profile of the suspect was coming together in your mind. Clearly, he was simple.

Happy and excitable, and yes, even pretty, but simple.

There’s no way he had been the mastermind behind the firework plot; that honor was likely saved for the one who escaped. He probably hadn’t agreed to do it with malicious intent either. Unfortunately, his inability to think things through had landed him in trouble and he was your problem now.

When you got to the entryway he even tried to the door open. “After you, officer.”

With a resigned sigh, you prodded him forward. Again. Really, this guy was worse than a puppy. A puppy could eventually be trained to listen but seeing as how he was late teens/early twenties, it was doubtful he ever would.

“You said your name was Paul?”

The p in his ‘yep’ popped.

“Last name?”

“Just Paul. I wouldn’t mind getting your name though.”

There’s no way you were telling him that. He would be that much more insufferable if he knew. And try as he might to hide his full name, that would come out when you booked him at the station.

“Well, Paul. You’re being charged with public endangerment and vandalism. Under California law, those are both misdemeanor crimes so most likely—”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved away your words with a flick of his head. Annoyed, you yanked on the cuffs, causing him to moan. “I do appreciate a good pair of handcuffs.”

“You—!” You had to stop yourself from calling him a little shit out loud. No one would’ve stopped you, but you felt weird about it, almost like it would come off as being unprofessional.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to bring your voice back down. “Saying crazy things is only going to make things worse for you.”

“Promise to punish me if I don’t?” Another wink was flashed at you.

It was at that point you noticed he had long lashes for a male. They fluttered like butterfly wings whenever he blinked. Except you had a job to do and really shouldn’t care about how pretty he was.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that it took you by surprise when he leaned in close. Acting on tactical instinct, you threw him against the police vehicle, his torso pressed against the hood with legs spread wide.

The position was designed to be as uncomfortable as it looked so that there was little to no chance of him bucking you off. Good.

“Need I remind you,” you said gruffly, “That you are under arrest. Don’t test me.” 

“You should most definitely frisk me,” he panted.

You sincerely hoped it was pain, and not from pleasure, but from your brief encounter with Paul, it honestly could be the latter. Your own heart was pounding in your chest as well but that was due to the adrenaline pumping through your system.

Or so you maintained.

Still, he had a point. Frisking was standard procedure to make sure the suspect was carrying anything potentially dangerous, or illegal. Hell. You were going to have to give into this particular demand, weren’t you?

Wanting to get it over with, you tried to be as fast as possible while still be thorough.

His muscles were surprisingly cold as you felt up his arms and then his back. It was summertime and when most people had problems overheating, it didn’t seem to be an issue for him.

You dreaded going anywhere near his ass but it had to be done. He even insisted on ‘helping’ by pushing his cheeks further into your hands by curving his lower back as you patted down his pants pockets.

“Check the front too. I could have anything down my pants, ya know.”

That didn’t sound suggestive at all. His flirtations were so over the top is was near comical at that point. You couldn’t let him know that though. You were the authority figure in this situation.

“Alright smart guy, the frisking is over with. And surprise, surprise there was exactly nothing in your pants.”

“You wound me, babe.” If he had use of his arms, his hand would’ve definitely been placed over his heart.  

Standing him upright, you opened the door to seat him in the back. That had been the plan any way.

One second you held his metal clad wrists firmly in your grip and in the next, he twisted himself away effortlessly.

He spread his hands apart and although they each had a shiny steel band around them, the chain that had connected them broke off with a metallic clink.

Just like that he was completely mobile and he wasted no time.

In another imperceptible move, he covered your back with his front, his breath tickling you.

You couldn’t hold back a shiver.

“It’s been a pleasure, officer, but I really should get going. I’m just too cute for jail.” He rolled his head and his nose traced the shell of your ear with a deep inhale. “This was fun though. Let’s do it again, hmm?”

He shoved you into the back seat and luckily your reflexes were fast enough to catch yourself before you face planted into the leather seat. Thrashing like mad, you spun around as fast as you could but it was no use: Paul was already gone.

Stumbling out, you looked back and forth hoping to catch a glimpse of what direction he went but it was useless. Not only was that little shit stronger than he seemed, he was also faster.

Noted.

With a sinking realization, you knew you were going to have to explain this to your partner.

Oh, you were not looking forward to this…

Worst first night on a job ever.

_______________

Hope you enjoyed Paul! I feel like this is goofy and over the top but I guess that’s basically Paul’s vibes in a nutshell. Marko has definitely gotten Paul arrested before and Max has definitely called the cops on them before too haha. Thanks for reading <3

#the lost boys #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys imagines

[mypoisonedvine]

Ok ok ok😆 How about step dad lee has a “take your kid to work day” and has to bring the reader to work. There the reader can be wonderful distraction at the sharif’s office by hiding under lee’s desk *wink wink* or even being a distraction to the other officers making lee jealous. Maybe this could even progress to the reader getting a part time job as a secretary working at the sharif’s office where they have excuses for being together more!!

(warnings for semi-public sex, almost getting caught, sexual harassment (not by lee), some violence, oral sex)

"Uh, Lee, don't you think your stepdaughter is a little old for this?"

You nervously tugged at the hem of your dress, silently agreeing with the officer.

"My wife insisted," Lee shrugged.

Someone in the back of the room emulated the sound of a whip cracking, and the other officers laughed. One glare from the Sheriff at the offending men and they all straightened into silence. Was it weird that it turned you on to see him exert his power over them so casually?

"Have her help you with simple stuff, okay? She can type, which I can't say for half of you anyways. Treat her like a secretary for a day. Except, treat her better than you did the last secretary," Lee frowned. "I'll be in my office if you need me," he informed you in a softer voice. You nodded and watched him walk away, turning your gaze back to the room of men eyeing you. Some seemed not to care much that you were there, some seemed offended by your presence somehow, and some... some made you wish you'd worn slacks instead, with the way they were staring at your legs. She's adorable, one of them mumbled to his deskmate, apparently not as subtly as he thought. No wonder he keeps her locked up at home, another added.

"Um, I'm happy to help however I can," you offered with a smile.

"Here, let me show you how we fill out case reports," one of them offered, motioning for you to stand by his desk.

You started to get in the swing of things after that, commandeering an empty desk with a typewriter and using it to help some of the men finish up some their work. You actually sort of enjoyed it, although you thought all the dirt you were seeing on the residents of Knockemstiff was wasted on you since you didn't care to gossip-- your mother would've had a field day with the information you gathered.

Lee came out every hour or two to check on you, move papers around, regular business stuff. Things got a little stranger just before lunch, though.

"Whatcha workin' on now, sweetheart?" Officer Lupitski asked, his hand descending onto your shoulder and squeezing a little. You didn't like that he was touching you, but he leaned down to look at your work and effectively caged you in.

"Uh, just this open vandalism report... I think I know who did it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, the witness said it was a short man, about 5'6", but she said he had on a blue cotton hoodie-- and that sounds like something Cynthia Fremont wears sometimes, and the height matches. Plus, the tag said CF, so..."

"Look at that, we made you a secretary when you oughta be a detective!" Lupitski laughed.

"Oh, I don't know about that," you smiled, your chest warming from the praise, "I'm just more familiar with the teenage girls of Knockemstiff than most of the officers are."

"Hm, you may not be as right about that as you'd like to be," he mumbled. "But anyhow, you don't feel bad about ratting out your fellow girls like this? I thought you were really into that feminism stuff."

"I don't know if feminism means letting somebody spray paint the library just cause they're a girl," you protested. "Where'd you hear that, anyways?"

"Your dad talks about you a lot," he explained.

"He's my stepdad," you corrected quickly, "so take it all with a grain of salt."

"No, no, he only says good things. Says you're a good girl, don't mess around with the law," he recalled, voice getting lower as his hand started to move to your back. "Sounds like he's right."

"Uh, I try to stay out of trouble, yes," you agreed hesitantly.

"But a little trouble is natural; I mean, a girl your age should be having all sorts of fun, that's the point of being young."

"I guess I find most of my fun within the confines of the law," you defended, trying to find a way to lean so that he wouldn't be so close to you but finding yourself trapped.

"Is it cause you're afraid of the Sheriff?"

You shook your head. "He doesn't scare me."

"Good for you," he praised, patting your knee and letting his hand rest there. "He doesn't scare me either," he purred, moving his hand a little higher, fingertips drifting under the hem of your dress as your breath hitched and your heart began to race. He was looking right at you with something sinister burning in his eyes, smiling with sharp but crooked teeth.

"Maybe he should," you suggested gently.

"Yeah?" he laughed, tilting his head and leaning in further. "Why's that?"

"'Cause I have a baton," Lee answered his question before hitting him swiftly in the face with it, which sent Lupitski tumbling back over your desk onto the floor. You giggled a little, and caught a few smirks from the fellow officers as well (though some others had that scared-straight look on their face).

"What the hell, man?!" Lupitski protested, spitting blood onto the floor.

"You tryna make your way to an early grave, Lupitski?" Lee challenged. "You've found a pretty speedy method, if that's the case."

"She's grown! She was into it!"

"Did you like gettin' felt up by this perv?" Lee asked you facetiously.

You shook your head, grinning when the officer on the floor looked back at you like you'd condemned him to death. Honestly, you might have.

"Get up," Lee rolled his eyes as he motioned for Lupitski to stand. As soon as he was up, though, Lee punched him and knocked him to the ground again.

"The fuck?! I thought you wanted me to stand!"

"Yeah, I did, but it was just so I could see you fall twice," Lee chuckled. "Clean up the blood and get back to work." Directing his attention to the rest of the room, he opened his arms in challenge. "Anybody else wanna take a spin, huh? Cop a feel, lose a tooth, it'll be fun!"

The men just looked around, shuffling their feet and clearing their throats nervously.

"...No takers? All right then," Lee nodded, turning to you, "you're spending the rest of the day in my office."

You stepped over the groaning form of Lupitski as you followed behind the Sheriff eagerly.

"Shut the door behind you," Lee instructed as he sat down at his desk. Once you'd done it, he patted his knee for you to sit on his lap. You felt a little nervous that someone would come in, but you were still excited to be in his arms again. He embraced you from behind, pulling your back into his chest. "I'm sorry about him," he sighed, "it's my fault, I should've known I couldn't trust them alone with you..."

"It's okay," you dismissed, "it wasn't that bad, he just put his hand on my leg."

"How high did he get?" he asked with concern in his voice. "Show me where he touched you, sweetpea."

You grabbed his hand and placed it on your knee, the comforting warmth making you relax a little. "Well, he started here," you explained, "but then he moved up... to here," you demonstrated, sliding his hand up until it reached where Lupitski's had.

"And then?"

"And then you hit him in the face, twice," you recalled with a shy smile.

"That's right," he beamed. You felt his hand moving higher from where you'd left it and you melted into his arms, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. "You know nobody can touch you there except your daddy."

You nodded, biting your lip as his fingers traced over the edge of your panties. Slipping inside, he growled a little when he felt that you were wet. "What's this, princess? Don't tell me you actually did like being touched by somebody else..."

"No, daddy, it's not that," you denied. "It was just... I thought it was really nice that you stood up for me..."

"Well, I don't care for it when other people touch my things."

"I know, daddy. And I couldn't help but think about what it would be like if-- if you had touched me in front of all those men, and showed them that I was yours..."

He grinned, finally rubbing your swollen clit as your back arched. "Mm, you're so shameless, baby. Is that what you wanted me to do? Beat him up and then bend you over the desk so I can beat up your cunt, too?"

You whimpered and nodded, hips bucking up into his touch.

"Dirty slut," he purred. "You know why I couldn't do that... but lucky for you, I have another desk right here that I can bend you over."

You giggled with delight as he pushed you up and over the wood, flipping up your skirt and pulling down your panties.

"Fuck," he groaned, "such a pretty little pussy you have, princess. And so wet for me, as always."

He didn't unbuckle his belt right away, instead leaning in to lick long stripes between your lips, the tip of his tongue teasing your clit and your hole-- wait, make that both your holes.

"Fuck, daddy," you gasped.

"Can you keep quiet, little girl? Or do I need to make you quiet?"

"I'll be good, daddy," you whispered.  It still took all your strength to keep that promise when he pushed his cock into you.  You gripped tightly at the edge of the desk, biting back moans every time the fat, swollen head of him plunged directly into your g-spot.

“You can’t imagine how many times I’ve been stuck at my desk and thought of doing exactly this to ya,” he chuckled lowly.  You wiggled your legs but he held you down, fucking you deeper and harder.  “Is this what you were hoping for, princess?  Is this what you want me to do to you in front of my men?”

You nodded with a whimper.

“You’d better hope nobody else steps out of line today, including you, or I might just be tempted to,” he threatened.  “I’d love for someone to give me an excuse to remind everyone that I’ve never been good at sharing my toys.”

After a few more minutes of pounding into you hard enough to rattle everything on his desk, you came with a choked moan and a sigh.  You were a little disappointed when he pulled out, because you wanted him to come inside you, but when he asked you to get under his desk and suck him off, well... you couldn’t say no to that.  Literally.

“Fuck, such a perfect little mouth,” he groaned.  “Wanna taste your daddy’s come, sweetpea?”

You nodded, without knocking his length out of your mouth, thankfully.  You always loved when you could taste yourself on him, as filthy as it made you feel.

“Then you’re gonna have to work for it.”

You were using your lips and tongue to suckle his tip while your hands worked tirelessly to pump the rest of him-- yes, you needed both hands-- when there was a knock at the door.

“Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he hissed at you before calling for the person to come in.

“Uh, I have these accounting sheets for you,” an officer explained, and you heard something set down on the desk above your head.  You looked up at Lee and watched his face as you kept going, though you were trying not to slurp or choke or make any other noises.  

“Thanks,” Lee nodded.

“Hey, wasn’t your daughter in here?”

“Stepdaughter,” Lee corrected quickly, just as you thought the same thing as the same time.  “And yes, but she’s using my private bathroom at the moment.”

“Oh, okay,” he agreed, although he sounded a little suspicious.  “I’ll leave you be.”

As soon as the door shut, you popped off of Lee’s cock and looked up at him nervously.  “Do you think he knew?” you asked.

“Did I say you could stop?” he countered; you got back to work quickly, not wanting to anger him lest he make good on his threat to fuck you in front of the station.  “I’m close,” he warned you.

You kept working until you felt him pulse and flex and, finally, come all over your tongue.  His hands tightened on your hair as he filled your mouth, the salty taste and the pressure on your throat making your eyes water.  He pulled you off of him with an exhausted groan.  

“Show me,” he requested, and you opened your mouth dutifully as his come pooled on your tongue.  “Good girl,” he smiled, “you can swallow now.”

You did, and licked up the small drop that had almost spilled from the corner of your mouth as well.  

“I think you should come with me to work more often, princess,” he grinned.

“I could use the typing practice,” you pondered aloud.  

“Oh, honey,” he chuckled, “you’re not gonna get in any typin’ practice, I promise you that.

#lee bodecker x reader #twi!lee #lee bodecker smut #i really hope that people know the whip sound effect thing is a way to call a guy whipped #kind of an obscure thing #also i wrote this at an airport #someone probably saw #oops

[asweetprologue]

me lámh le do lámh - Part IX

First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

The next morning brought the day of the ritual itself, and Geralt found himself woefully unprepared for its arrival.

Jaskier was nervous. Geralt could tell by the on-again-off-again chatter, the way Jaskier would launch suddenly into a diatribe and then go suspiciously silent for the next twenty minutes. Their breakfast was stilted, and Geralt tried to make it quick, not wanting to linger in the tavern any longer than needed. The air within it felt thick with the years that had passed between them, and the words Geralt couldn’t bring himself to say.

He wanted to perform the ritual outside of the city, though they probably didn’t have to. Ida had said that the place needed to be of personal or magical significance, not both, but Geralt figured that going overboard couldn’t hurt. The area where they’d been attacked by Filavandrel was heavy with magic; Geralt could still remember the way his medallion had hummed against his chest in the great circle of stones. That was the place, he knew, where they would be most likely to find success.

If Jaskier even let him go through with it at all.

They walked the path as they had so many years ago, through the craggy valley of plenty to the base of the mountains. It was sunny, and the air tasted like summer had firmly arrived. The sky overhead was shockingly blue, an uncanny match to Jaskier’s eyes. The valley was rich with the scent of wildflowers, almost overpowering, and every patch of grass seemed to hold a shock of vibrant color.

It took them several hours to get to the spot, but Geralt knew instantly when they arrived, even without the gentle vibrations of his medallion. It looked exactly the same as before, as if even nature itself had refused to go to work against it. Jaskier spoke from behind him, leaning against one of the large stones. “This is it, right?” he asked, looking around. “I’m almost certain I remember you punching that faun just there.”

Geralt huffed a laugh. “He had it coming.”

Jaskier grinned back at him, but then the smile dipped off of his face as he glanced around. “So, uh. How do we do this?”

Geralt shrugged off his pack, dropping it in the middle of the clearing. “It shouldn’t take much work,” he said, digging through it for the oathstone and the moonflax ribbons. Once he held each of the objects in his hands, he turned back to face Jaskier, and then stopped. Jaskier was looking at the objects with something like trepidation, and Geralt felt a swoop of anxiety in his gut. “It’s just a few words,” Geralt continued, hesitantly.

Jaskier wavered, shifting his weight back and forth on his heels. “Geralt, are you—are you sure about this? We still don’t know all that much about this ritual. What if it hurts you?”

It was a possibility. Ida had said that Jaskier wouldn’t be at risk, but he’d received no such assurances about his own safety. Geralt shrugged, and offered his hand to Jaskier, the pale oathstone resting in his palm. “It’s worth it,” he said simply.

Jaskier stared at him for another long moment, radiating hesitation. Finally, he stepped forward and took Geralt’s hand in his.

Letting out a barely audible sigh, Geralt pressed their palms more closely together, the oathstone warming to their touch. “This shouldn’t take long,” he said again, shaking out the ribbons so they lay flat. Gently, he draped them across their joined hands, the ends falling to brush the grass at their feet. This was what it would look like, he realized. It was like any old handfasting ceremony—all he had to do was say the words, and he and Jaskier would be bound together. The ribbons were soft against his skin, almost as soft as Jaskier’s sweaty palm in his. He paused, his free hand brushing across the fabric of the blue ribbon. All he had to do was wrap it gently around Jaskier’s exposed wrist, and then—

“Stop.”

Geralt paused, fingers twitching. He looked up from the ribbons to find Jaskier staring at them, his face tight and horrified. “What?” he asked, stomach dropping. Jaskier’s grip on his fingers would have been bruising to anyone but him.

“Geralt, we can’t… we can’t do this.” Jaskier stuttered, swallowing. His eyes finally lifted from the ribbons to find Geralt’s, and the pain and distress he saw there made his free hand itch for his sword.

“Why not?” he demanded, a little sharply. He was so close, and then he could live the rest of his long life with Jaskier at his side. Even if he wasn’t Geralt’s, it would be enough to have him live. He only had to finish the binding, and Geralt had half a mind to blurt out the words right then and see if they would stick. Jaskier didn’t deserve that, didn’t deserve to be bound to someone like Geralt without asking for it, but Geralt could see the grey in Jaskier’s hair and the lines at the corners of his mouth as he frowned. This was his only chance, the only way he knew of to keep Jaskier from leaving him all too soon.

Jaskier winced at his tone, his free hand clenching at his side. “I—I wasn’t sure if you knew. But you mustn’t—Geralt, this isn’t just any spell. It’s a soul binding ritual.”

Geralt forced his breathing to remain regular, though his chest was tight with panic. “I know, Jaskier. My life force tied to yours, extending your life in the process. That’s the whole point.”

Jaskier bit his lip and took a deep breath. It shuddered a bit on the exhale. “Geralt,” he said, face scrunched up as if expecting a blow, “it’s a marriage ritual.”

Even though he’d been expecting it, Geralt couldn’t help the feeling of defeat—of grief—that swept through him. That was it then. Jaskier would not only refuse to complete the ritual and die, but he’d also probably never want to speak to Geralt again. He wouldn’t be there in the winters, singing by the fireside and telling Ciri stories and jokes to pass the time. He wouldn’t whisper terrible little things about other bards when he dragged Geralt along to those horrible competitions in Novigrad. He wouldn’t sit quietly on the other side of the fire and offer Geralt soft smiles in the evenings, as he wrote about their adventures. He would die, and Geralt would have to live on with a hole in his chest that would never heal. He’d thought it was painful, to not have Jaskier the way he desired, or to skirt the subject of losing him, but this. Just knowing that it was inevitable now, facing it head on, made his gut lurch sickeningly.

The soft fabric of the binding ribbon felt terribly fragile in his grip.

He was reaching out before he could stop himself, taking Jaskier’s shoulder with the hand not still holding the oathstone between them. He started talking without knowing what he was even going to say, only knowing that there was a small chance that he might be able to salvage this if he could just say the right words. “Please,” he said urgently. Jaskier looked taken aback by his sudden intensity, but he couldn’t stop. “Please, just—It doesn’t matter, does it? I’m sorry, I should have—I know, I should have told you, I’m sorry. But it doesn’t have to be that, it can mean whatever you want, or nothing. We can still—”

Jaskier interrupted him, eyes wide in shock. “You mean you knew?” He was so beautiful, Geralt thought despairingly; even now he wanted badly to reach his hand up and cup Jaskier’s jaw, to trace his thumb across the red blush spilling across his cheekbones. Jaskier gasped, surprise and confusion warring across his features. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t think it mattered.” Geralt stammered through the lie, swallowing. “How did you know?”

Jaskier’s brow furrowed as he answered, his eyes roving over Geralt’s face as if looking for answers there. “It’s—There’s a poem. A piece I studied years ago, when I was learning to translate Elder at Oxenfurt. Something Silvandrel said reminded me of it. So the stars may hear your oath, was I think how he phrased it. The translation isn’t exact, the word at the end can mean oath or promise, but also has... romantic connotations. Usually we translate it as ‘adoration.’ But I wasn’t sure, until I saw the ribbons. It’s, I mean,” and here he flushed, his nervous rambling breaking off for a moment as he floundered, palm shifting in Geralt’s. “It’s all quite familiar, isn’t it? We’re only missing the floral crowns.”

Geralt pushed the words past the lump forming in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I should have told you, I just thought—” He stopped, at a loss for how to continue.

Jaskier brushed over the statement anyhow, looking away from Geralt and down at their still half-bound hands. He laughed, a brittle, bitter sound that set Geralt’s teeth on edge. “I’m just surprised that you knew,” he said, the shoulder under Geralt’s other hand shifting in a slight shrug. “I mean, I assumed that if you knew you would never…” He shook his head, looking back at Geralt with a tight expression. “Silly of me. I should have known it wouldn’t matter to you, after all. I know you would never honestly consider marrying me.”

They were standing so close, hands clasped tight together between them, barely a foot apart. Jaskier offered him a slight smile, as if trying to share a joke, but this close Geralt could see how twisted it was. Jaskier’s eyes were wet, and his expression was pinched, mouth tight as if he was in pain. And suddenly it was as if all of Geralt’s other concerns were smothered by the desperate imperative to wipe that look from Jaskier’s face. “Why not?” he asked again, defensive on Jaskier’s behalf, reckless in the face of the incomprehensible bereftness on the bard’s face.

Jaskier’s eyes widened. Geralt could hear how fast his heart was racing, and even if he couldn’t he would have been able to feel it under the hand that rested on Jaskier’s shoulder. “Well,” he stammered, clearly bewildered. “You wouldn’t—You’ve never, you’ve never wanted me. Like that. I know that, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Geralt took a half step closer, so that their joined hands were nearly pressed to his chest. This close, Jaskier had to look up at him, an ever so slight lift of his chin. Geralt took a breath, Jaskier’s fingers just brushing the thin fabric of his shirt. “I’ve always wanted you,” he said, forcing his voice to be steady. “I meant it. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“But not like that,” Jaskier argued, flustered, his free hand coming up to gesture between them. He looked near tears. “You don’t want me like that. You never have.”

“I’ll take you any way you’ll have me,” Geralt said honestly. A part of him was still crying out that this was a mistake, that he was showing his hand, that Jaskier would run when he knew the full extent of Geralt’s feelings. But Jaskier had to know that he cared. Geralt had let him carry on in doubt for so long, thinking he wasn’t loved, when nothing could be further from the truth.

Jaskier was still, staring at him. His mask was gone. Geralt could see surprise and confusion in his face, and fear too. But there was also something that made his own heart race in his chest, made a warm burst of hope crackle through Geralt’s ribcage, dangerous and heady. “You were going to marry me,” Jaskier said, voice cracking on the word marry.

“I still want to,” Geralt said softly, and summoned the courage to raise his hand up to cradle the side of Jaskier’s neck. His skin was warm, sunkissed and flushed prettily. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, if you don’t want it to.”

“What if I do want it to?” Jaskier demanded. His voice was hard, but his eyes were still damp.

“Whatever you want,” Geralt agreed. “Anything.”

Jaskier paused, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. Geralt’s eyes lowered to follow the motion compulsively, and when he glanced back up he found Jaskier looking down at his own lips. They were so close now, their still-bound hands held between their chests, sharing air. “Geralt,” Jaskier rasped, “I can’t do this unless we’re on the same page. If this isn’t going to mean… if it’s not going to be real, then I—”

“I’m in love with you,” Geralt said in a rush, and could have collapsed with the relief of it. He couldn’t help the small smile that stole across his face, even as his knees went weak at the admission. This could all go so badly, if he was reading this wrong. Even still, he felt lighter, as if speaking the words had allowed the feelings to seep past the barriers he’d built up around them.

Jaskier gasped, as if Geralt’s words had physically struck him. For a moment he just gaped, mouth opening and closing. Finally he put his free hand to his chest, pointing to himself emphatically. “With me?”

How was it possible to feel this fond of someone? It should have swallowed him whole, drowning him in a sea of affection. “For a while now, yes,” Geralt replied. “I understand if you don’t—”

Jaskier reached a hand out to grab the front of his shirt, and Geralt had time for one moment of crystalline shock before Jaskier’s mouth met his.

It was not hesitant, or gentle. Jaskier kissed him like he was trying to work himself so deep into Geralt’s mouth that he would never be able to pick all the pieces of him from his teeth. Geralt inhaled sharply at the warm touch of lips to his, and Jaskier wasted no time licking into his mouth. The hand in his shirt clenched tightly, keeping them pressed together with their bound hands awkwardly held between them.

Recovering from his shock, Geralt lifted his hand from Jaskier’s neck and finally held his cheek in his hand, like he’d been aching to the entire time. A slight tilt to Jaskier’s head changed the angle, and it was suddenly good, so good he could feel it in his toes. Jaskier made a wounded noise that Geralt eagerly swallowed. He flicked his tongue along the back of Jaskier’s teeth, and had to quickly take the bard’s weight as his knees buckled.

He lowered them to the grass carefully, separating to pant into the space between them. Jaskier laughed breathlessly as he half fell to his knees, a giddy sound that had Geralt grinning back at him. Geralt couldn’t help but lean forward and press another kiss to Jaskier’s lips, and then another, hot and sweet. Jaskier freed his fingers from where they’d been crushing Geralt’s shirt so that he could wrap his arm around the back of Geralt’s neck, pulling him in close. “You love me,” he laughed, and his eyes were so bright, Geralt could hardly breathe with it.

“I do,” he said, pressing yet another kiss to the corner of Jaskier’s mouth. “You seem amenable to that.”

Jaskier made a noise that seemed caught halfway between a laugh and sob. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he confessed, voice thick. The words landed softly between them. “Since before the dragon hunt. I didn’t think you would ever—” He cut himself off, turning to bury his face in Geralt’s palm.

“Me either,” Geralt admitted, smoothing his thumb under Jaskier’s eye and catching the faint moisture there. “I mean, I didn’t think you would… want me. Like that.”

“I think I’ve been half in love with you since the beginning,” Jaskier said, chuckling wetly. “Gods, we’ve been a couple of fools, haven’t we? We wasted so much time.”

“I enjoyed it,” Geralt disagreed, a warm tingle spreading through him as Jaskier tightened his arm around his neck. “And we can still… If you still want to go through with it, we could have as much time as we want.”

Jaskier smiled, his heart beating wildly under Geralt’s palm. “So wanting to extend my lifespan wasn’t just about Ciri, then.”

Geralt huffed, ears tingling with embarrassment. “I told you that already,” he said. “I wasn’t lying about Ciri, but I didn’t start looking into the ritual because of her. I just…” And here he stopped, momentarily lost for words. Instead he pressed his lips to Jaskier’s again, before muttering, “I truly couldn’t bear the thought of living without you.”

Jaskier made a soft sound, a gentle oh of an exhale, and Geralt felt it against his lips. “Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier breathed, “you are quite the romantic.”

“Maybe,” he allowed, leaning in again. “Marry me,” he whispered, and what he meant was, Stay with me.

Jaskier surged forward to kiss him again, hard. Geralt had already lost count of how many kisses they’d exchanged in the last few minutes, but he was less and less eager to end them each time. Jaskier pulled away for just long enough to breathe a joyful, “Yes,” against Geralt’s lips. And after that they didn’t come up for air for a long, long time.

*

By the time they had gathered themselves again, the sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon, the promise of night drawing near. The ribbons had become untangled from their hands in their eagerness, the oathstone cast carelessly aside. Sheepishly, they gathered up the materials for the ritual once again, kneeling before each other in the clearing.

It was amazing, Geralt thought, that he had ever managed to keep this a secret, had ever managed to restrain himself from reaching out and taking when Jaskier was before him. The low evening sun lit his hair in fiery shades of amber and gold, disheveled from where Geralt had run his hands through it. There was a dark red mark blooming on the pale skin of his throat, and Geralt wanted to fit his mouth over it again and see if he could match his teeth to the barely-there indents still visible. He had to stop himself from leaning forward again to catch Jaskier’s mouth when their eyes met; if they didn’t do this now they would be here all night.

It was surreal, knowing that this was how it would happen, that it finally was happening. Jaskier was smiling at him, the joy radiating from him echoing the feeling in Geralt’s chest. The earthy smell of the grass that they’d crushed under them filled the air, blanketing the sweet honey scent of the wildflowers. If they’d had time, if they’d been anything like other couples, they might have made crowns of those flowers to rest on each other’s heads. But Geralt didn’t want to wait, and he sensed Jaskier’s own impatience in the way he shifted forward, trousers stained green where his knees had been pressed into the dirt for too long.

It was time.

“Will you say it?” Geralt asked, breathless, anticipation bleeding into terror into longing. Jaskier’s eyebrows came together just slightly, and Geralt could see the question in the slight parting of his mouth, the forward twitch of his chin. So clear to him, after all these years, because this was Jaskier. Jaskier who he loved. “The poem,” he clarified.

Jaskier breathed in slightly, knelt before him in the grass. In the place where their lives had first been twined inexorably together, by choice rather than fate. Jaskier’s voice was as soft, but it rang through the clearing nonetheless, refracting off of the stones. “I will make my vows to thee,” he began, offering out his palm, “where ancient stone hears my voice.” Geralt pressed his own hand down to meet Jaskier’s, the smooth surface of the oathstone held safely in the cage of their fingers. “And the earth will know of my devotion.” The stone was warm against Geralt’s palm, and he didn’t know if it was from some magic or just the warmth of their joined hands. He didn’t think there was really a difference.

Reaching beside him with his free hand, he pulled the ribbon—blue, white, and gold braided carefully together—from his pocket. The white seemed to glow in the twilight, stark against their skin. “I will bind myself to thee in silver strands of moonlight,” Jaskier continued, and Geralt began to twist the ribbon around his own forearm, down and around their hands, back up around Jaskier’s wrist. Once done, he tied the ends together over the top, the knot resting in the hollow between their thumbs. “And the stars will know my adoration,” Jaskier breathed. Geralt looked up to find Jaskier watching him, eyes over bright. Geralt reached out, his hand curving around the back of Jaskier’s neck, thumb resting just under his jaw. He pulled them together, until Jaskier’s forehead rest against his own.

“In a court of our own making, I will make our halves whole,” Jaskier said, his breath ghosting against Geralt’s lips like a promise. “My hand to your hand, my heart to yours.”

“Me lámh le do lámh, me cáerme le do cáerme,” Geralt murmured, and then closed the distance one last time.

~

Last chapter before the epilogue! Truly amazing that this thing is almost done. I know for yall it’s been little over a week, but this has been a big project for me for the better part of a year, so it’s a little bittersweet to be wrapping it up! I’m very happy with how it all turned out, and I’m so grateful to everyone for your wonderful feedback. This chapter’s art is by @silvertonguelover​ and I couldn’t think of a better way to finish off the main story. Thank you!

tags: @whereismymonsterlover

#geraskier #geraltxjaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #the witcher #witcher #fic #fanfic #writing #geralt of rivia #jaskier #my work #multichapter #me lamh #silvertonguelover #art #big bang #geraskierbigbang

[swan-of-sunrise]

Taking Care of Business (Chapter Seventeen)

Summary: (Y/N) and Din clarify their relationship as they team up with an ex-Imperial sharpshooter to infiltrate a secret Empire-controlled refinery.

Pairing: Din Djarin X Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: A long chapter this week! I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Seventeen The Believer (Previous Chapter)

One of the things (Y/N) loved about sewing was the sheer complexity of it. Envisioning exactly what you wanted to create and carefully planning out each stitch before the needle could even touch the fabric, methodically constructing something out of nothing but your own imagination and with only the simplest of tools to help you. Sewing had always been therapeutic for her, a way of distracting herself from the challenges of life and proving that she could be more than what the Rebellion had turned her into, and it was onboard the Slave I when (Y/N) realized just how important the pastime had been to her.

Ignoring many encouragements to rest, (Y/N) had disassembled and cleaned each and every weapon onboard the ship, her hands moving on auto-pilot while she skillfully disassembled and put blasters back together. But the task wasn’t challenging enough to make her stop thinking about Grogu and the terrified look in his eyes as the droids had taken him away; the Empire had already taken so much from her, but she’d be damned if she let them take away the child she and Din had grown to love.

“Hey,” (Y/N) glanced over as Fennec sat down on the bench beside her and gestured to the blaster rifle in her lap. “You’re gonna burn a hole through that rag if you keep cleaning like that.”

At the assassin’s comment, her hands stilled and she registered the lingering soreness in her arms; she met her gaze with a brief smile and shrugged indifferently. “What can I say? Boba Fett has some incredibly filthy weapons. Seriously, you’d think that one of the galaxy’s most legendary bounty hunters would take the time to clean his blasters.”

“Keep cleaning like that and he just might hire you to do it for him.”

(Y/N) snorted in amusement. “A former Alliance Starfleet captain joining up with an assassin and a living legend; wouldn’t that be something?”

Nodding, Fennec’s eyes flicked over to where Din was seated in the corner. “Probably not as exciting as joining up with a Mandalorian warrior.”

“We’re here. Prep for landing.”

While Fennec went off to speak to Cara, (Y/N) set the half-cleaned blaster rifle down and made her way over to Din, who was preoccupied with adjusting one of his pauldrons. “Din, are you sure that this is a good idea?”

“No,” He answered truthfully, the visor of his helmet tilted up towards her as she stood in between his spread legs; his modulated voice sounded rougher than usual and her heart broke when she realized that he’d been crying. “But what other choice do we have? None of us knows any other ex-Imps who’d be willing to help; Mayfeld may be one son of a mud-scuffer but his allegiance isn’t to the Empire.” The ship began its descent as Din held one of her hands between his gloved ones. “We’re gonna get the kid back, alor’ad, I swear on everything I am that we will.”

“I know,” (Y/N) gave him a soft smile and allowed him to rest his helmeted head against her stomach. “I know we will.”

The ship landed smoothly on the surface of Karthon and after Boba lowered the ramp, Cara left to retrieve Mayfeld from the endless field of scrap metal. Din insisted on checking (Y/N)’s blaster wound while they waited and she reluctantly allowed him to wrap a bandage over her fresh bacta patch, understanding the reasons for his over-protectiveness. She was lowering the hem of her top when Boba emerged from the cockpit and her brow rose in surprise; he’d applied a fresh coat of dark green paint to his beskar armor, making it appear as good as new. Now he really looks like a legendary bounty hunter, she thought as she watched him and Fennec walk down the ship’s ramp, remembering all the stories and cautionary tales she’d heard about the man.

“Let’s go.”

Din gave her hand a final squeeze before dropping it and walking down the ramp. Pressing a hand to the bandage at her side, (Y/N) slowly followed behind and her eyes were immediately drawn to the man in the New Republic prison jumpsuit; the joking look that had been on his face quickly fell as he watched Din exit the Slave I and she couldn’t help but smirk at his discomfort, knowing that he deserved to feel fear after everything he’d done during and after the Rebellion.

The two of them stopped in front of Mayfeld and Din inclined his head. “Mayfeld.”

“Hey, Mando, long time.” Mayfeld was looking at everything but the Mandalorian as he anxiously asked, “What, you came here to kill me?”

Cara clenched her jaw. “All you need to know is I bent a lot of rules to bring you along.”

“Why am I so lucky?”

(Y/N)’s anger rose at Mayfeld’s sarcastic response and she didn’t stop herself from snapping back. “Because you’re Imperial.”

“Hey, that was a long time ago, all right?” He insisted, furrowing his brow while he glanced between her and Din. “And why the hell does me bein’ ex-Imperial matter to you, princess?”

“You still know your Imperial clearances and protocols,” Din interrupted, his gloved hands tightening into fists at his sides as he loomed over the man. “Don’t you?” Mayfeld frowned in confusion but kept silent as they all headed back into the ship, following Cara’s orders to change out of his jumpsuit and into a spare set of clothes. Din helped (Y/N) sit and stayed by her side while the ship took off and their guest took a seat across from them; Cara sat beside her, her eyes narrowed and diligently trained on Mayfeld, and Fennec’s arms were crossed over her chest. “We need coordinates to Moff Gideon’s cruiser.”

“Moff Gideon?” Mayfeld asked incredulously before shaking his head. “Yeah, forget it. Just take me back to the scrapyard. I’m not doin’ that.”

Cara let out a sigh and glanced over at them before replying, “They’ve got their kid.”

To (Y/N)’s surprise, Mayfeld’s hardened expression faltered. “The little green guy?”

“Yeah, the little green guy.” The gloved hand that rested on (Y/N)’s shoulder twitched and she bit her lip to keep it from trembling.

“So…I help you guys get him back, you guys let me go?”

(Y/N) snorted in amusement at his hopeful tone. “That’s not how this works.”

“Well, then what’s in it for me?”

Beside her, Cara pursed her lips in annoyance. “You get a better view.”

Mayfeld sighed, closing his eyes and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees before answering. “All right, but here’s the thing: I can’t get those coordinates unless I have access to an internal Imperial terminal. I believe there’s one on Morak.”

“Morak?” Din repeated, his modulated voice laced with disbelief. “There’s nothing on Morak.”

The man shook his head. “It’s a secret Imperial mining hub, okay?” (Y/N) and Cara exchanged matching looks of disgust, their time with the Rebellion making it difficult for either of them to stomach their new passenger. “If you can get me in there, I can get you the coordinates.”

(Y/N) tilted her head to look up at Din and after a brief moment’s hesitation, he reached for the nearby control panel and pressed a button. “Fett, punch in the coordinates for Morak.”

“Copy that.”

The ship hummed around them as it prepared to enter hyperspace, and (Y/N) felt an unexpected pang of sadness; she missed piloting a ship, the familiar task having the same effect on her mental health as sewing. I’ll add the Razor Crest to the ever-growing list of things that the Empire’s taken away from me, she thought as the image of Grogu’s face crossed her mind again. With Din’s assistance, she got up and moved to join him and Boba beside the navigation system but not before she heard Mayfeld speak again.

“Hey, Marshal, who the hell’s the girl anyhow, some sort of royalty or somethin’?”

“Her name is (Y/N), and she’s Mando’s partner. That’s all you need to know.”

She wasn’t sure if Din had heard Mayfeld and Cara’s exchange but she didn’t say anything to him, allowing him to wrap a steadying arm around her waist and looking over expectantly at the bounty hunter working the controls of the navigation system.

“I did an initial scan of the planet,” Boba announced, gesturing towards the navigation system he’d been tampering with and waiting for them to move closer before continuing. “This is what you’re talking about, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the refinery right there.” Mayfeld gestured towards the blue-tinted image of a massive stone structure.

Fennec shifted as her eyes remained trained on the hologram. “Wonder what they’re refining in there.”

“Looks like rhydonium. Highly volatile and explosive.”

Mayfeld snickered at Boba’s words. “Yeah, kinda like this one, huh?”

(Y/N), Din and Boba all turned around and the man’s joking grin fell; the bounty hunter turned back to the hologram with a sigh. “They have anti-aircraft cannons protecting it.”

“And a platoon of security forces.”

Din nodded. “So we go in quiet. Let’s take another look…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Slave I soon landed on the surface of Morak, hidden away behind a dense forest of trees, and after arming themselves the group trekked through the foliage to the edge of a cliff. It overlooked a dusty road and just as they arrived, an Imperial vehicle passed by and into a tunnel carved into a nearby mountain.

Mayfeld turned away from the sight to look at them, apprehension quickly filling his eyes. “I’m not gonna need long inside so once I get the coordinates, you guys gotta get me the hell out of there.”

“You get to the roof, I’ll drop in and pull you out.”

Cara nodded, her hand moving to rest on the blaster at her hip. “All right, Mayfeld and I will swap out for the drivers in the tunnel-”

“Hey, as much as I’d like to take a road trip with Rebel-dropper here, that’s not gonna work.”

The marshal’s brow rose as she examined his face. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

Mayfeld sighed in exasperation. “Well, because these remnant bases are set up and run by ex-ISB. If you get scanned and your genetic signature shows up on any New Republic register, you’re gonna be detected and it’s guns out.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, (Y/N) couldn’t help but scoff at his words. “You sure do know a lot about Imperial remnants.”

“Hey, if you wanna accuse me of somethin’, princess, then just say it!”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by Din’s stern voice. “We don’t have time for this. Fennec will go.”

“No, I’m wanted by the ISB,” Fennec shook her head. “I’ll trip the alarm, too.”

Din turned to Boba beside him. “Fett?”

Sighing beneath his helmet, Boba cryptically replied, “Let’s just say they might recognize my face.”

An idea began to form in (Y/N)’s mind while Mayfeld and Cara began bickering, and she took a deep breath before speaking up. “I’ll go.”

Her companions all turned to look at her but her eyes were only focused on Din, who had visibly tensed at her declaration. “You can’t, alor’ad, you’re a former Rebellion captain; you’ll show up on New Republic registers the same as Cara.”

“…Not necessarily.” She glanced down at the rocky ground to avoid their confused stares and continued. “The Alliance Starfleet kept a record of all the smugglers within the Rebellion but since it was imperative that our missions remained secret, they never kept records of our genetics. So, there’s a pretty good chance that I won’t show up on any ISB genetic scans.”

“And there’s a pretty good chance that you will.”

“Then I’ll avoid getting scanned.”

“I don’t trust Mayfeld.”

“Last I checked, I can take care of myself.”

“You’re still injured.”

“I’m fine!” (Y/N) insisted, her frustration with the Mandalorian mounting with each excuse he gave her. “Look, we don’t trust him to go in alone and I’m the only one of us who has a chance of not being caught! We’re wasting time arguing when-”

“I’ll go with you.”

(Y/N)’s mouth fell open in shock and she was vaguely aware of Mayfeld’s amused chuckle somewhere nearby, but her eyes remained trained on the visor of Din’s helmet. “Hey buddy, I may be good at fast-talkin’, but I don’t think I can explain away a guy in a Mando suit to Imperial guards. So, unless you’re gonna take off that helmet, it’s gonna be me goin’ in with your smuggler gal here.” He ignored the pointed glare (Y/N) shot him as he shrugged a shoulder. “Or say goodbye to your little green friend.”

Din continued to stare down at her. “You two are not going alone. I’m coming with you…and I won’t be showing my face.”

To say that (Y/N) was angry with her partner was an understatement; she was infuriated that after everything they’d gone through together, Din didn’t believe that she could complete the mission without him. She was fuming throughout their planning session and when they prepared to make their way to the top of the tunnel, she ignored his attempts to help her and instead asked Cara to guide her down the rocky slope. She’d also be lying if she said she wasn’t frustrated about the way he was risking his Creed; the Way was more important to him than anything and the thought that he was putting it at risk because of her made her feel equal amounts of irritation and guilt. I’m not going to be the one responsible for breaking his Creed, (Y/N) silently vowed, not when I know how much it means to him.

While the next Imperial vehicle passed underneath them, the four of them jumped down onto its roof and crouched low as it entered the tunnel. Cara disappeared into the vehicle and soon after, it came to a jarring stop; the sudden movement made (Y/N) hiss in pain and clamp a hand down on her healing wound, but she was quick to climb down onto the ground before Din could try and help her.

“Looks like we lucked out,” Cara called, opening the side hatch and kicking one trooper out. “These two had a passenger with them.” The marshal tossed a second unconscious body out of a vehicle and (Y/N)’s stomach dropped when she recognized the uniform of an Imperial naval captain.

“Wow, what irony; the former Rebel captain putting on the uniform of an Imperial captain!” Mayfeld snickered beside her as she knelt and began stripping off the man’s outer clothes. “I’d offer to swap outfits with you, princess, but that Imperial kepi’s not really my style.”

“Shut up and get changed,” Din growled and despite her frustration, she watched with satisfaction as the man paled and hurried to comply with his order; the Mandalorian, who had already gathered up the second trooper’s armor, moved closer to her once she stood with her borrowed uniform. “Can we talk?”

(Y/N) brushed past him and began walking towards a nearby crevice in the tunnel wall, calling over her shoulder, “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Alor’ad…” His plead didn’t do anything to stop her and moments later, she heard his heavy footsteps follow her into the crevice. “C’mon, alor’ad-”

“Don’t you ‘alor’ad’ me, Din.” She stopped dead in her tracks and spun around to face him as her anger finally boiled over. “You don’t think that I have what it takes to finish this mission on my own.”

Din let out an exasperated sigh. “(Y/N), that’s not true-”

“Yes, it is! You’re putting yourself and your Creed at risk all because you don’t trust my skills.”

“No, I’m not-”

“Then why?!” (Y/N) demanded, tears of frustration prickling in her eyes. “Why would you insist on coming along and-?”

“I love you.” Din’s words echoed through the crevice and she froze as he continued on uninterrupted, his voice beginning to waiver. “(Y/N), I love you and I can’t lose you, I just can’t. I’m already the one who got you injured and made you lose everything that mattered to you, but I couldn’t…I couldn’t be the one responsible for getting you killed, too.” Tossing the trooper’s armor onto the ground and ripping off his gloves, he stepped forward and held her face between his warm, tanned hands. “Nothing in this galaxy means more to me than you and the kid, alor’ad, nothing. Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika alor’ad. I love you.”

A tear streamed down (Y/N)’s cheek and Din’s thumb gently wiped it away as she replied, “And I love you too, Din Djarin.” She pressed a kiss to his palm and his helmeted forehead lowered to rest against hers; after taking a moment to revel in their love confessions, she looked up into the visor of his helmet. “Din, you’re not responsible for what happened; my blaster wound is nearly healed and my possessions…they were only possessions.”

“But your mother’s journal, your dream-”

“I won’t lie and say it doesn’t hurt that the only thing of hers I had is gone, but the Empire can never take away my memories of her. And as for my dream…” She held the uniform in one arm and rested a hand against his beskar-covered chest, directly over his heart. “It’ll come true one day, Din, but only if you’re there with me.”

“Hey lovebirds, we’re kinda on a time crunch here! Hurry up!”

Din let out a frustrated growl as he pulled away from her. “I swear on the Maker, if we didn’t need his Imperial clearances…”

Her partner kept watch at the entrance of the crevice while she quickly changed into the Imperial captain’s uniform and once she was fully dressed, she headed back to where Cara and Mayfeld were waiting; the marshal flashed her a sympathetic smile as she moved to stand beside her. “Grey wool looks terrible on you, Captain.”

“Feels terrible, too.” (Y/N) grumbled, fidgeting as the rough material rubbed against her skin. “Imps don’t know krif about constructing comfortable uniforms.”

From his spot inside the vehicle, Mayfeld snorted in amusement. “What are you, one of those fashionistas from Naboo or somethin’?” She refused to look in his or Cara’s direction, and her jaw clenched as the man began to laugh. “The silence is incredibly telling, princess. Who would’ve thought that an Alderaanian could work alongside someone from Naboo? You know, since Naboo’s kinda to blame for the rise of the Empire…”

(Y/N) was spared from answering when Din appeared from the crevice and made his way over to them; it was jarring to see him wearing something other than beskar and she knew that it couldn’t have been easy for him to pack his Mandalorian armor away after so many years of wearing it.

“Look at this! Oh, the shame; now, that right there is worth the price of admission.”

The three of them ignored Mayfeld’s remarks as they moved to stand beside the Juggernaut. (Y/N) avoided glancing over at the marshal standing beside her, instead keeping her eyes on the visor of Din’s new trooper helmet. “Wish I could say it looked good on you but I’d be lying.”

“Just make sure you take out the rooftop gunner, or we’re never getting out of here.”

“We got you,” (Y/N) felt a hand on her elbow and when she looked over, Cara was smiling as she continued. “Both of you.”

(Y/N) felt the tension immediately leave her body, her shoulders sagging in relief when she realized that Cara didn’t despise her; they shared a smile of understanding and Din held out the burlap sack towards the marshal. “Take care of this, keep it safe.”

Cara nodded firmly and accepted the bag. “I will.”

“Hey guys, still on the clock.” Mayfeld called out and with one final look, (Y/N) and Din turned and made their way over to the side of the vehicle. “What would they say on Mandalore?” She allowed her partner to help her up into the cab, rolling her eyes in annoyance as the man continued to talk to Cara outside. “It’s a shame you’re not comin’ along with us. You got such a sunny disposition, can’t imagine how fun you are in one of these…”

“Please let me shoot him, Din, I promise that I’ll only mildly injure him.”

Instead of answering, Din huffed out a quiet laugh while he settled in the seat beside her and (Y/N) focused her attention on the road ahead as Mayfeld worked on starting the Juggernaut. The engine roared to life after several moments of fiddling with the controls and the man cheered. “And we are off!” The vehicle lurched forward and the cab was silent while they journeyed out of the tunnel; just as she felt herself begin to relax, Mayfeld looked around her at Din. “Hey, how’s it feel? Huh?” Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him gesture to the armor he was wearing. “I mean, c’mon, man. You still get to wear a helmet, right?” Neither of them answered and Mayfeld sighed. “All right, you know what? I’m takin’ this thing off, I can’t see anything.” With his free hand, he removed his helmet and set it aside before focusing back on the road ahead. “I don’t know how you people wear those things. And by ‘you people,’ I do mean Mandalorians.” (Y/N) felt her anger begin to rise at his taunts and she bit her lip to keep from speaking, keeping her eyes trained on the scenery outside. Just when she thought that he’d grown tired of talking, though, he spoke again. “Feels better when it’s off.”

Unable to contain herself any longer, (Y/N) turned towards Mayfeld with a harsh glare. “Just shut up and drive the kriffing vehicle, Mayfeld.”

Mayfeld smirked and raised a hand up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll be quiet now.” When she turned back to face the road, she felt Din’s gloved hand wrap around hers and gently squeeze. “So, a Rebel smuggler, huh? Whatcha smuggle for ‘em, spice? Weapons? Chak-root?” She didn’t reply so he let out a quiet laugh. “Didn’t peg you as the mercenary type. I thought that the Naboo were supposed to be peace-lovin’ people…but I guess that changed when they helped the Empire rise to-”

“Juggernaut Four, you’re running hot. Be sure to watch your cargo heat limits and speed.”

“Copy that, Three. We hit a couple bumps; thanks for the heads-up.”

The man beside her looked down at the vehicle’s monitors, his brow furrowing in worry as he struggled to check their cargo’s levels, and Din finally spoke up. “Don’t worry about the rhydonium. As long as you drive steady, you’ll get us to the refinery.”

They continued down the road, eventually coming across a small village. (Y/N) reached forward and activated the vehicle’s horn, carefully watching as the children hurried off of the road; seeing the children playing not only reminded her of Grogu, but of all the cities and villages she’d evacuated during the Rebellion. Even on the most heavily-controlled planets, children found ways to ignore the Imperial influences surrounding them and try to enjoy what little childhood they could; kids are resilient no matter their circumstances, she thought as the vehicle drove out of the village, but they shouldn’t have to be.

As if reading her thoughts, Mayfeld chuckled. “Yeah. Empire, New Republic…it’s all the same to these people. Invaders on their land is all we are. I’m just sayin’, somewhere someone in this galaxy is ruling and others are being ruled. I mean, look at your race.” He gestured towards Din, and (Y/N) could feel him tense up in anger; even she knew that it was a Creed and not a race, but it was clear that the man was only trying to rile the Mandalorian up. “Do you think all those people that died in wars fought by Mandalorians actually had a choice? So how are they any different than the Empire? If you were born on Mandalore, you believe one thing and if you were born on Alderaan, you believe somethin’ else. But guess what? Neither one of ‘em exist anymore.”

“I’m warning you, Mayfeld…”

“Hey, I’m just a realist, princess.” The man shrugged his shoulders. “I’m a survivor, just like you two-”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Din’s stern voice filled the cab of the vehicle. “You are nothing like us.”

Mayfeld snorted in amusement. “I don’t know, seems to me like your guys’ rules start to change when you get desperate.” (Y/N) glowered as he gestured to the Imperial captain’s uniform she wore. “I mean, look at you, a former Rebel captain wearin’ the uniform of an Imp. And you,” He looked around her at Din. “You said you couldn’t take your helmet off, and now you got a Stormtrooper one on. So what’s the rule? Is it that you can’t take off your Mando helmet, or you can’t show your face? ‘Cause there is a difference…”

At his observations, (Y/N) squirmed uncomfortably in her seat; Din had removed his helmet several times in her presence, though only while she was blindfolded, had her eyes closed or they were surrounded by darkness. He’d assured her several times that removing his helmet in her presence wasn’t breaking his Creed, since she couldn’t see his face, but Mayfeld’s words gave her pause. Have I been forcing Din to bend the Way of the Mandalore, she asked herself, uneasy with the idea of her partner compromising his beliefs for her. The hand that was holding hers flexed, and she knew that Din was also uncomfortable the man’s theorizing.

“Look, I’m just sayin’, we’re all the same. Everybody’s got their lines they don’t cross until things get messy.” Something shifted in Mayfeld’s eyes and he was quick to turn his attention back to the road before continuing. “As far as I’m concerned, if you can make it through your day and still sleep at night, you’re doin’ better than most.”

Before any of them could say another word, a voice called out from the cab’s communication radio. “Control, this is Juggernaut Three, we might be coming up on some route interference…Control, Control, we need a new-” The Juggernaut Three pilot screamed over the sound of blaster fire before the transmission cut out.

(Y/N) and Din turned to one another as Mayfeld began panicking. “What was that?”

“Please stand by for reroute.” The voice emitting from the communication radio was punctuated by a deafening explosion far ahead of them, fire and smoke filling the sky as the wreckage of a vehicle came into view. “Juggernaut Four has been destroyed.”

“Destroyed?!”

“The rhydonium’s still stable,” Din called out, glancing away from the monitors to look at (Y/N) as he lowered his voice. “Everything’s gonna be okay, alor’ad.”

“Juggernaut Five, maintain speed and course. Proceed with caution. Rerouting course, stand by.”

Mayfeld’s eyes widened in horror. “‘Proceed with caution?’ Is she serious?!”

“Control, this is Juggernaut Three, requesting-” The pilot was cut off by shouts and blaster fire. “Abort, abort!” There was another explosion, its shockwaves shaking their vehicle as they soon swerved around the wreckage of another Juggernaut.

A chill ran down (Y/N)’s spine, and she quickly looked away from the wreckage to stare at Din beside her. “They’re blowing up the rhydonium.”

Something heavy suddenly hit the side of their vehicle. “What the hell was that?”

The three of them looked down at the monitors to see a ship full of people flying alongside their vehicle, one of them already standing on their roof. “Pirates. Keep driving, I’ll take care of it.” Din opened the window beside him and leaned out before shooting at the pirates; (Y/N) watched the monitor with mounting panic, taking note of how close the blaster fire was to their volatile cargo.

“Are you seriously shooting a blaster near rhydonium?!”

(Y/N)’s jaw dropped when she spotted what the pirates were holding in their hands. “They’ve got thermal detonators…”

“Terrific!”

Din pulled away from the window and hurried to the ladder in the back of the cab. “Just keep it steady!”

“Get these guys off, get ‘em off us!”

“Just shut the hell up and keep driving!” (Y/N) shouted, watching her partner climb up the ladder and open the hatch before turning back to the monitors; as Din shot the attackers, their vehicle shook and the rhydonium levels began to fluctuate dangerously when one of the pirates thermal detonators exploded behind them, the monitor’s blinking red and an alarm blaring as she swore, “Dank farrik…”

“They’re trying to blow the rhydonium!”

Mayfeld huffed out a sarcastic laugh at Din’s exclamation. “You think?! You should’ve left me in prison!”

Despite their dire situation, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Finally, something you and I can agree on!” Another loud noise on the roof of the vehicle made her look down at the monitor to see Din fighting off more pirates; he’d somehow lost his blaster and was fighting them without a weapon, but he seemed to be doing all right for the moment. “Mayfeld, pick it up. Drive faster!”

The man’s brow furrowed but he listened to her command, pressing his foot down on the accelerator; they both lurched back as the Juggernaut sped forward and just as (Y/N) was breathing a sigh of relief, the alarm sounded and the rhydonium levels began to rapidly rise. “I don’t think faster’s a good idea!” He slammed on the brakes, instantly slowing the vehicle and stopping the alarm.

“What are you doing?!”

“The rhydonium’ll explode if we go any faster!” (Y/N) shouted back, scooting over to open the window and lean out to get a better look at the fighting; she watched as Din was knocked down onto his back, his helmeted head hanging over the edge of the roof as he was pinned down by three attackers. A fourth attacker hurried over to the open rhydonium container and retrieved a thermal detonator from his pocket, and that’s when (Y/N) knew she had to act.

“Where the hell are you goin’, princess?!” Mayfeld asked as she began clambering out of her seat, her hand pressed tight against her healing wound. “You’ve got a hole in your side and no blaster, remember?”

(Y/N) gritted her teeth and climbed up the cab’s ladder. “I don’t need a blaster.”

Ignoring the mounting pain in her side, (Y/N) clambered onto the roof of the vehicle and hurried over to where Din and the pirates were; she planted a hard kick onto one pirate’s back, sending him flying off the roof and freeing up Din’s hands so that he could take care of the other two. The beeping noise emitting from the thermal detonator grew more incessant as (Y/N) wrenched it off the rhydonium and, seeing no other option, threw it as hard as she could towards the pursuing ships; the force of the explosion sent her flying back into Din, and they both crashed onto the roof of the Juggernaut.

“(Y/N)…(Y/N), you okay?” Din panted, letting out a grunt of pain as he rolled over to onto his side and held the side of her face with a gloved hand. Still winded from the fall, she nodded and he breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Uh, Mando, I gotta stop! I can’t cross at this speed!”

The Juggernaut began to slow down as it neared the mouth of the bridge and while they helped each other sit up, (Y/N) spotted four more ships filled with pirates fly through the smoke and dying flames of the explosion; her heart sank when she saw the activated thermal detonators in their hands. There’s no way we’re getting out of this, she thought with dread, clambering to her feet to stand beside Din as he raised his fists. The unmistakable sounds of approaching TIE Fighters made (Y/N) whirl around just in time to see the Imperial ships shoot the ground on either side of their vehicle before hitting the approaching pirate ships; hating herself for feeling relieved, she allowed her partner to guide her down the ladder and into the cab of the Juggernaut.

From her seat in between Mayfeld and Din, (Y/N) watched with a mixture of horror and disgust as Stormtroopers gunned down the remaining pirates while others stood and saluted them as they drove into the refinery. Now that the fighting was over, guilt began to wash over her; the pirates that they’d fought and killed were only trying to defy Imperial rule, just as the countless people she’d smuggled off Imperial-controlled planets had done.

“Everybody’s got their lines they don’t cross until things get messy…”

You did it for Grogu, (Y/N) told herself firmly, clutching her side as she glanced over at her partner. Din was breathing heavily, his hand massaging his unarmored shoulder, and she could tell from his body language that he was thinking along the same lines as her.

“Never thought you’d be happy to see Stormtroopers, huh?” Mayfeld grinned, saluting back to the Stormtroopers flanking the Juggernaut with ease.

(Y/N) hated herself a little more as she silently agreed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A/N: Idk about this chapter, I edited a lot of it while recovering from my first dose of the Covid-19 vaccine so I’m not as sure about it as I’d like to be but I hope you like it! Thank you guys so much for reading!

Mando'a Translations: Alor'ad-Captain Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika alor’ad-I love you, my darling captain

Chapter Eighteen

Taking Care of Business Masterlist

Tagging: @remmysbounty​ @sinon36​ @seninjakitey​ @thatonedindjarinfan​ @ginger-swag-rapunzel​ @mostclevermiss @momc95​ @welcometothepedroverse​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @zukoyonce​ @itsnottilly​

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din x reader #mando x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #grogu #the child #baby yoda #fennec shand #boba fett #cara dune #migs mayfeld

[bagelbright-tok]

Take Me to Funkytown!

____   

Yellow Temperance proves to be a great enemy to Jotaro. Without much of an aid there to assist the teen, he hasn’t much of a choice but to fight for his life. After trying to burn and freeze temperance off of his finger, hope is lost. At least, until an odd individual dances their way into the fight. Ally or enemy? Temperance and Jotaro are unsure.

Jotaro x fem!Reader [Platonic One-shot]

Italics = the music

Word Count: 1,564 Warning(s): Violence, swearing, negligence, bit of social isolation, intense grooving, swearing again, gross horny man tries hitting on reader, I did not re-read __ Blame It on the Boogie! __

You were mostly just touring Singapore for your own personal reasons. You had nothing else to do and you got bored quickly. So, you packed your bags and left for Singapore. You had the essentials; clothes, personal hygiene products, and your Walkman cassette player and headphones. The flights over were smooth as could be. Not like you noticed much anyhow. Most of the time, you had your headphones on, listening to the several cassettes you also had brought in your bag. Since you’d left, you’d made 0 social interactions with other humans. That didn’t bother you in the least. You didn’t necessarily care much for making friends along the way. In fact, you dreaded when people would talk to you. They were annoying, quite frankly. So you would drown out the voices with your music. The only problem was that you would get sick of listening to the same songs over and over again. The perks of traveling were being able to try out new music from places around the world.

Your thoughts were mostly blank while you peered out of the train window at the city you were approaching. “Hey pretty lady~!”

A man’s voice quickly pierced the air around you. But you couldn’t hear him over your loud music. He noticed that quickly and took this as a sign to sit right next to you. “What’s a girl like you sitting all by yourself?”

You scooted away from him once you noticed he had sat next to you. Your smiling expression quickly turned into a frustrated one. You couldn’t hear the man, but his presence alone made you uncomfortable. You became infuriated when you felt his hand remove your headphones. “C’mon girl, don’t-”

You didn’t let him finish as you summoned your Stand, and sent it lunging at the man. Your Stand, Ace’s Wand, representing the tarot card Ace of Wands, was a Stand with the form that could vary depending on your mood and the sounds in the air. With you angry without music, your Stand took on a horrifying form that you could barely comprehend. The noises it made as well were scary. All you could see was the body of the annoying man getting flung like a ragdoll. His body was crumpled like a piece of paper on the other end of the train.

You scoffed, grabbed your headphones, and returned to your position. Your music continued and your site seeing went on. Everyone was scared and confused as they surrounded the man in concern. “Won’t you take me to Funkytown?” You bobbed your head to the beat while everyone whispered in a hushed and terrified tone.

***

The train ride turned into a cableway ride. You sat in a cable car with a man, his kid, and their dog. The kid happily snacked on his popsicle as he enjoyed the view from the car. You were doing the same, except you were listening to your music instead of snacking on a popsicle. Looking out the window, you noticed a guy on a cylindrical shaped building that was tall enough to reach the height of the cable car. It was an odd sight for sure, you even gave him a confused squint. You noticed his sights landing on your cable car. You blinked a couple of times. Your eyes quickly widened when you saw him back up, then charge forth towards your car.

“Oh shit!” You whispered loudly. The teen landed on the car and clutched to the side you had been viewing from. You noticed a purple figure emerge from him and rip the door off the car. Things only got weirder. The man peered at you, then turned his attention to the kid with the popsicle. 

“Hey kid, I am gonna need to use this.” The kid began to cry until the teen spoke again, “Alright, I’ll buy you a new popsicle when we reach the ground.”

The kid nodded, and the tall teen rose back to his height. Your headphones had been knocked off during the impact of the teen crashing into the car. You hardly noticed, even hearing the teen talk and hearing yourself talk. “Whoa! What an entrance! What the hell are you doing?” You blurted out.

“Is this your kid, lady?” The black haired teen asked.

“What? Hell no.”

“Then shut up and enjoy the view.”

Your brows furrowed at that statement. It was of annoyance, but then it turned into confusion when you noticed the yellow blob on the teen’s hand. Just what was going on? You could only ask this as the teen pressed the cold treat onto the yellow substance, wincing in pain in the process as the gross yellow jello spiked and stabbed into his hand. Things only escalated when another presence began to enter the cable car through the door that the teen had rudely ripped off. The presence was similar to the substance on the teenager’s hand, except larger and with another person inside.

“Can’t you get it through your thick skull?” The deep male voice spoke in a taunting manner that sent shivers down your own spine. “My Stand, Yellow Temperance, is indestructible! No matter how much power you may have, you cannot beat my Stand!”

Well shit. It means you’ve found yourself in a Stand battle. You found yourself even more infuriated than before on the train. The black haired teen referred to as Jotaro had ripped a pole from the car and tried to swing it at Yellow Temperance. It wasn't just Jotaro, though. It was his Stand, a large purple humanoid entity that was clearly fast and strong. Angered, you put on your headphones and stood up. It was as the Stand projected itself onto Jotaro and the cable car that things got weird.

Jotaro and the user of Yellow Temperance were now looking at you. Your expression was scrunched up and you could feel the heat rising. With the beat of your music, you had better control of your Stand. "Don't blame it on the sunshine!"

You moved with the rhythm and summoned your Stand without further comment. "Don't blame it on the moonlight."

"Holy shit!" Temperance's user yelled in horror as his eyes laid on your Stand. You could barely make that out with your music as loud as it is.

"What the hell!" Jotaro also exclaimed, but not as loud. Based on Temperance's reaction, it clued him in on the fact that you are clearly not with him. A relief, but also, you aren't with the Joestars.

"Don't blame it on the good times." Just as Temperance was about to latch onto you, you sent out your Stand first. "Blame it on the-!" "BOOGIE!" Your Stand screeched as it went up against the yellow Stand.

The enemy user only screamed as he witnessed your Stand vigorously and aggressively stabbing and digging through his sludge. Even while your Stand could make contact with his, it couldn't be said that the situation could be switched around. Your Stand's form was horrifying in itself, but the idea that his Stand with no weaknesses couldn't touch your Stand was just as terrifying. 

Jotaro realized the opportunity he had now. The enemy had even panicked and removed his Stand from Jotaro. He wasn't even paying attention to Jotaro anymore. You knew why. The fear was overwhelming. You are the greater threat at the moment to him. You bore your eyes into Jotaro, telling him to make his move if he wants it. Your Stand was slowly making its way closer and closer to the user with its claws. Just as your Stand was about to make it to the enemy, with him sobbing, Jotaro used his Stand's fist to punch the user and knock him unconscious. Your Ace's Wand stopped mere inches away from The Temperance card holder. Your Stand emitted a sickly wheeze of laughter before being de-manifested. You were still grooving to the song, though.

"This magic music grooves me! That dirty rhythm moves me! The devil's gotten to me through this dance!"

Jotaro was unsure of how to communicate with you. That uncertainty was cleared up, though, when you yourself removed your ear buds and spoke.

"Hey! Jotaro right?" You chuckled, pointing at him. Jotaro nodded, knowing you had caught his name in the fight. "That was pretty cool. We should do that again sometime."

"What?" Is all Jotaro could murmur in confusion as response to your suggestion.

"I'm [Y/N] [L/N]." Your pointing finger turned into an open palm hand to shake Jotaro's. "I'm a Stand user, too. Not like.." You looked down at the unconscious and shirtless man at your feet. "...him, though. I'm cool, like you."

Jotaro hated women who fawned over him. Most of the female students who crowded him referred to him as "cool," as well. Hearing you say it, though, was different. It wasn't of lust or love like those ladies at school. It was of genuine friendship and curiosity.

"That's.. Great." Jotaro said, extending his hand out and shaking yours. "Hey, I have a question…"

"Go ahead and shoot!" You shook his hand and returned yours to your side.

"Could you join us on our mission to Egypt?" Jotaro is well versed in being blunt and very straightforward. Not that you would know that.

You paused and processed what he had said. " "Our...?" Mission..? Egypt!?"

___

E N D.

A/N: AAAA! This has been sitting in my docs for sooo long! I had no idea where to take it and how to end it. Finally figured it out though! Apologies if it seems rushed or half-assed. This one is very similar to the In With A Bang one-shot. Introducing a character in that fashion. Also, In With A Bang has reached over 100 notes!! That's fuckin bonkers! Please go give it a read if you haven't! I promise it's better than this one, lol!

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo part 3 #stardust crusaders #writing #reader insert #x reader #insert reader #jotaro kujo #jotaro x reader #oneshot #jotaro x you #jotaro x y/n #platonic

[neoheros]

how would haikyuu boys handle getting shipped with a friend on tiktok? feat. kuroo tetsuro

kuroo tetsuro has a crippling tiktok addiction and he’s in denial about it but everyone around him knows because all he does in his free time is get on that app

that’s canon i’m not arguing with anyone about this

he’s the kind of guy to fall asleep from scrolling through his fyp and the moment he wakes up he looks for his phone under his pillow to watch more lmaooo

so anyways

you share classes with him and he’s not really the kind of guy to have crushes especially on people he’s not close with

but then one day he’s on his fyp and he stumbles on one of your videos

and he’s just like ?? woah

he recognizes you obvi, he’s not one to talk to people out of his friend group but he’s not completely ignorant to everyone else

he immediately sees that you have indeed quite the following and have almost majority of your posts going viral

so yea you can say he’d notice you more in class now

at first it was subtle, looking at you more when he’s spacing out or paying close attention to you when you’re reciting

he doesn’t even notice how he includes you more in his thought process until the day kenma pointed it out to him how he’s been a bit more distracted lately

he brushed it off thinking it wasn’t really anything serious

but then boy Oh boy !!!

he started noticing the fact that you’ve got a really nice room in your vids and your fave led lights are the red ones since you almost always use them

he’s also really into the fact that you upload more on comedic videos than dancing ones

but HONEY when you posted your take on the dance trend of savage by megan thee stallion ,,, he was GONEEEE !!!

he sent that video to kenma like five times in a row with the caption “aha brb gonna LIVE for this woman 😗✌️”

kenma be like: simp city population - u

at this point he just accepts it, like flat out he took it within himself to UNDERSTAND how much he’s crushing on you and kenma asks him if he’s gonna do anything about it and he’s like ????

like he gets how awesome he is and stuff cause duh captain of the volleyball team and most probably the most beautiful man on campus but you’re also really good in class and very attractive

not to mention that you’ve never even looked his way before

he was hurt, man !!

only he could feel as rejected as someone who actually did get rejected

nevertheless, he got over that and just woke up one day telling himself that he was gonna shoot his shot anyway !!

so one day in class, right after the lunch bell rang, he took a deep breath and rummaged his insides for every drip of confidence he could muster

he walked to your seat and you were kinda surprised because this boy right here has never once talked to you before

his opening line was “can i sit here?”

you were still really confused but then he said something about wanting to be friends and your heart was just really warm cause !!!! that’s so NICE !!

and he mentioned how he knew you from tiktok since you practically lived on his fyp

you were really embarrassed and he got to see in action how your ears turn really red when you get shy

kuroo, internally: “that’s so FUCKEN CUTE !!!!!”

he had to reassure you that it was indeed really cool that you made bomb ass tiktoks

you were so grateful cause like one minute you were having a terrible day because of your stupid teacher then bam this 6’2 beauty of a man came swooping in telling you you were terrific

you two became friends after that and it made you really happy to have someone as cool as kuroo as your best friend

kuroo likes to sit with you at lunch except when you’re with other people then he gets a bit dejected so he’s just “well damn maybe tomorrow then”

it’s all good though cause he has invited you to numerous of his practices and that’s when you SEE how amazing this man is at volleyball

one day you’re like “hey wanna do a tiktok with me?”

and he’s like “the one where you kiss me?”

you, flushed: DIPSHIT WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT !!!!1!1!1!!

you guys do the one where you dance to supalonely by benee

it went OFF !!! 700k likes and a solid ass 2.7M views because apparently the viewers really like it when kuroo dances next to you in his varsity uniform and has sweat dripping on his forehead

your comments for the next two weeks are just like “bro post another one with kuroo please PLEASE”

kuroo: guess people just like me more :)

you: leave my mentions <3

sometimes you’d get people replying to your videos with “you and kuroo look really good together”

you see them but you most likely ignore it because even if you did know how much you liked kuroo, you didn’t wanna jeopardize the friendship, yk?

anyhow due to popular demand, you include him in your videos again and every time you do they always go viral !!!

it’s very cute especially when you do the ones where you snapchat him song lyrics and he answers even if he does know it’s a trend

“can they please just get together already, we all know they’re pining but they’re too coward to say it !!”

you: ok u know what user9728182829 since u’r so good at this why don’t u be the one to make tiktoks at a volleyball court and dodge all those stray balls 😤

you were so fed up with it that you actually tell kuroo about the entirety of tiktok shipping the two of you together

he was worried that you were upset because people liked you and him dating that he thought maybe you just weren’t into him

BUT THEN !!!

because of the corona virus all the schools shut down and people were forced to stay in their houses for quarantine

it was sad that everything got cancelled and you weren’t allowed to see your friends anymore

but that’s ok cause kuroo insisted to facetime everyday

you: why can’t we just text

kuroo: because what if you forget what i look like 🥺

you: hey i’m not that blessed ❤️

it was like the quarantine never happened since you still saw and talked to him everyday

sometimes he’d show up at your place but refuse to come inside cause social distancing

this mfer threw rocks on your glass window just to get your attention once

kuroo: i got you those edible cookie dough in pints !!

you: omfg 🥺👉👈

then he chucks it at you because he ain’t boutta break the law to get you food 😤

it’s ok though you have really good reflexes and it only hit your elbow the first 2 times !!

you got it all on camera and posted it on tiktok and everyone in the comments were LIVID at the fact that you captioned it with “best friends b like”

“i just know that kuroo is punching the air right now.”

“imagine risking the corona and still being friend zoned.”

“when you realize kuroo is actually the president of simp city.”

other times he’d snap you at 3 in the morning asking if you want anything from starbucks

no one:

your snapchat dms at 3:28 am: you really went to bed you SN A KE !!

and when you wake up the next morning you find out that this guy is still awake and that he’s been chilling in the starbucks parking lot all morning !!!

that’s ok though because other than the fact that his sleep schedule is completely wrecked he still got you your venti strawberry acai refresher

you: thank you sm 🥺 what do i owe you

kuroo: a kiss on the cheek

you: you can have the drink back ❤️

that’s when the new tiktok trend started and people were posting the hottest guys on campus or revealing their crushes since 1st grade

you, feeling brave because school is cancelled: aight bet 😎

you do a tiktok hopping on the trend and you captioned it with “now that we aren’t coming back to school here are the boys from campus that i’d date for real”

you stall for the first 30 second by vibing to the music and when the beat drop !!

you showed a picture of kuroo and you put in the text “kinda missing him too”

you were extremely regretting this but numerous people already saw it and the comments went on and on about how unsurprising this was

press f ma’am

so one afternoon while kuroo was scrolling through his tiktok, he was surprised by the amount of notifications he was getting

cause he doesn’t even post videos ??

he’s only there to watch funny stuff and leave insulting comments on your posts cause he’s a good friend

he checks and they’re all just tags of him in this one video and he was kinda worried cause what if it was a hate post ??

but then he saw that it was yours and he’s less nervous !!!

kuroo, texting you: if you diss me in this one i’m posting the screenshot of you falling asleep on facetime

so he watches it and ??????????????

bro he went 🥺

before he messages you he went straight for the comments and !!!!!

“who knew it was kuroo before watching the whole video?”

“don’t be shy put some more photos of him !!”

“if kuroo duets this i’m gonna make sure to never fall in love unless its like this.”

“y’all he did it boys!! he graduated from the best friend zone!!”

he’s still really surprised by this and he really hopes you’re not kidding cause bro you??? like him????

thanks to that comment he saw, he decides to duet your video by using the same sound and doing the same dance with the same caption “now that we aren’t coming back to school here are the ones from campus that i’d date for real”

and they’re all just pictures of you 🥺

it blows up but before you see it on your fyp he’s already asking to facetime and when you answer you swear he’s just got the biggest smile in the world i’m :(

kuroo: lol remember when you publicly told majority of the internet how much you liked me

you: lol remember when you weren’t talking ❤️

#if this flops ahahaha i will cry #but yes kuroo is my dream man unfortunately #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #nekoma #haikyuu #hq #haikyuu!! #hq!! #tiktok #quarantine #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu drabbles #smut #fluff #angst #imagines #x reader #fanfiction #drabbles

[blitzturtles]

Title: Nothing Else Matters

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo

Pairing(s): NaraFugo / FugoNara

Summary: [In a world where it takes Pannacotta a while to come home after the events of VA...]

Patience is not a concept, but a word that bounces around in Narancia’s mind. An echo of syllables rather than something that has meaning. He can repeat it to himself as many times as he would like, but he will find none of whatever it was that Bucciarati wished to impress upon him when he spoke the word in the first place.

Notes: Also, this was honestly an excuse to write Fugo with long hair and scars.

-

Patience is not a concept, but a word that bounces around in Narancia’s mind. An echo of syllables rather than something that has meaning. He can repeat it to himself as many times as he would like, but he will find none of whatever it was that Bucciarati wished to impress upon him when he spoke the word in the first place.

Narancia is not patient. He is not capable. His only lapses in action come when he sleeps or when it is absolutely necessary for survival. The only things he has ever waited for are food and medical care; the latter of which nearly killed him. For Narancia, there is no virtue in patience; only unending anxiety. Worry that gnaws at his already chapped lips and pulls the threads loose in the cuffs of his sleeves. It keeps him up at night with questions that never receive answers.

How is patience a form of high moral standard (what does that even mean?) when it could mean that Fugo is out there by himself? Possibly in danger. With no one to watch his back in a Passione that is rapidly changing around him in a way that he surely is not prepared for.

It’s been a year. One very long year, and that’s accounting for the fact that Narancia spent several miserable weeks in the hospital after a two week long coma. He remembers looking out the window, unable to see the street from so high up, yet hoping he might catch a glimpse of white-blonde hair off in the distance. He had never given up hope that Fugo would stop by one day, even if only to sneak in for a moment. That day had never come, and now countless more have passed.

Giorno does his best to reassure Narancia that Fugo is alive, but that only brings about more questions and concerns. Alive is a pretty low bar to set, but it’s better than some of the scenarios that have run through Narancia’s head. It’s better than dead at Diavolo’s hands-- indirectly or otherwise--, but it only does so much to soothe Narancia’s nerves.

He can’t bring himself to ask how Giorno knows that Fugo is alive. That he’s at least surviving out there in the world where the most powerful crime syndicate is undergoing significant restructuring. Has Giorno seen him? Spoken to him? Does Fugo visit him?

Giorno’s got eyes in more places than Narancia can wrap his head around, so it’s possible that Giorno’s monitoring Fugo from a distance. And Narancia tries to ignore how that thought makes his chest ache. As if Fugo is some kind of threat to them.

The problem is that Fugo could be a threat. If he had it in him. He has more information on those closest to the Don than anyone else in the entirety of Passione combined, but he’s not a traitor. Narancia knows that like he knows the sky is blue, an observable and undeniable truth.

What almost hurts more is the thought that Fugo is talking to Giorno directly. That he’s gone to see the Don on more than one occasion, or that he has some means of reporting to Giorno that none of them are privy to. That Narancia knows of, anyway. He wouldn’t be entirely surprised to hear that Bucciarati also knows of Fugo’s whereabouts, but that thought doesn’t hurt nearly as badly as the idea that Fugo is avoiding him.

Narancia does some avoidance of his own. Mostly, it’s calendars that he can’t stand to look at. He tries his best to steer clear of them, but it’s been hard ever since he started up school again. Everything operates on a damn schedule with school. Tests, homework, tutoring (remote and not through Fugo, and he hates it)... It’s never ending, and the moment he gets his hands on one, he’s counting back all the time that’s passed.

Today marks one year, two months, and three days, and patience has gotten him absolutely nowhere.

______

Giorno sends for Narancia while Narancia is busy studying in the mansion’s library. He gives Mista-- the one often sent to collect for the child Don, whether it be man or money-- a look of confusion, with one eyebrow cocked and eyes searching, but Mista only shrugs,

“Dunno, dude. You’re gonna have to go see for yourself, I guess.”

Narancia doesn’t know how Mista can sound so detached. These kinds of things drive him crazy. He wants to know, and he wants to know now. Patience is bullshit, and he’s tired of pretending otherwise.

______

The door to Giorno’s office is a large, heavy oak thing carved with expert hands. Narancia’s fingers sink into the grooves that make up the design of foliage and wildlife. He’s found himself tracing various parts of this door more times than he can count. The scene is beautiful. One of the artist’s whim, but she had clearly understood her client, given how perfectly it fits Giorno. It’s often the first impression people get of the Don when they’re called upon. The door comes across as unnecessarily ornate, but, truly, it’s a reminder. Besides, the whole thing had been a gift. Not a single penny had been spent (well, not in commission, anyhow.)

Narancia likes it because he can usually find something he hasn’t noticed, some groove he hasn’t touched. The surface is surprisingly smooth for wood, and it feels nice under his fingers. He’s used it as a distraction before; a way to pass the time while idling outside of Giorno’s office, either as a living radar or as an invited guest.

He’s almost never there for a mission briefing. It’s rare that he gets sent out on field work at all anymore. He’s technically an ex-mafioso now. School is supposed to be his priority (it’s not), which means mafia work is saved for everyone else. Most of the time. Which raises the question: what does Giorno want?

“Come in!” Giorno calls loud enough to be heard. It startles Narancia out of his thoughts, but he brushes it off quickly and reaches for the door, only stopping for a moment because he can hear a second voice. A quiet murmur that Giorno responds to in a gentle cadence of his own. One that’s meant to be reassuring, yet sends alarm bells off in Narancia’s head. He flips Aerosmith’s radar over his eye, checking the signatures in the room. There’s definitely only two, but that doesn’t give him a whole lot to work with.

Rather than keep his boss waiting any longer, Narancia pushes the door open and peers inside, half expecting the stranger to be holding a weapon of some sort. Instead, the man stands there, stiff as a board with his back facing Narancia. He has a ratty hoodie on with the hood being pulled up in such a way that Narancia can’t see any of the man’s features. It does nothing to settle his unease. Something is going on, and he feels wholly underprepared.

“It’s alright,” Giorno says, standing from his chair and moving around his desk. Narancia doesn’t know if he’s trying to reassure the stranger or him, but he has a feeling that neither of them feels any more at ease than before the Don spoke. And what Giorno says next makes even less sense, but is definitely aimed at the stranger, “He’s been waiting for this.”

Slowly, the unknown man reaches up to lower his hood. It seems to take an eternity, but the moment Narancia sees his face is the moment when he feels like someone has punched him in the gut hard enough to go through layers of skin and muscle and fat. There’s a horrible twist in his stomach before an odd, detached hollowness settles in, and all he can do is stare in disbelief.

Fugo’s fingers linger on the rim of his hood. He holds it tight around his neck, still partially obscuring his hair and part of his jaw. His fingers remain clenched in the fabric so tightly that his knuckles have gone white, and he stands there, seemingly frozen part way through his reveal. His mouth is too obscured to see the full extent of his expression, but his brows are drawn in a frown. Bright red eyes dart suddenly from Narancia to Giorno, searching. He looks ready to run, and that’s enough to kick Narancia’s brain back into gear.

“You bastard!” Narancia’s lunging at him in an instant without bothering for his knife. He grabs at Fugo’s hood, and his fingers clasp tightly in the bunched fabric before Fugo’s hands.

Giorno moves to get between them with a hand raised, prepared to force the two apart if need be. Gold Experience manifests behind him, no doubt prepared to create a literal barrier to prevent any bloodshed.

“Don’t,” Fugo breathes, eyes darting to Giorno. “Don’t,” he repeats, “It’s fine.”

“Fuck you!”

Fugo doesn’t flinch at the exclamation, though he does sink his gaze downward and refuses to look up at Narancia. No amount of time could have prepared him for this particular reunion. Getting into contact with Mista and Giorno again had been hard enough, and that hadn’t exactly been his choice. This is an entirely different matter. One more complex than he knows how to deal with, and that’s exactly why they’re in this situation now: because he hadn’t known how else to do this.

Rude as it is to stick Giorno in the middle of all of this, it’s the only way that Fugo could assure that he would follow through with his plan to finally reintroduce himself to the rest of the team. He’s already proven himself to the Don. To Giorno. And to Mista. Though he hardly feels as though he deserves their trust. No matter how often Giorno reassures him otherwise. Still, this is more complicated.

Narancia stares him down with a fire in his eyes. Aerosmith’s radar vanishes from existence, which at least means Fugo won’t be shot, but that’s little consolation given the rage rolling off of Narancia in waves. His fists press into Fugo’s jaw, causing him to wince, and just like that something… snaps. Either inside of Fugo or in the air. It’s like a crack of thunder that rings in his ears.

“I hate you,” Narancia nearly sobs into his ear the moment he gets his arms around Fugo. He pulls him into a crushing hug with no warning and repeats the phrase ad nauseum. They both know the words aren’t true, though Fugo deserves them to be.

“I’m sorry,” Fugo breathes his response, and not just because Narancia is trying to squeeze the life out of him. His own eyes are burning with tears. Months of pent up emotions spill forward in an unstoppable avalanche, and all either of them can do is hang on tightly to the other until the worst of it passes.

Fugo barely has a moment to catch his breath before Narancia is reaching, and he flinches. Narancia’s eyes widen and his mouth falls open a bit. Nothing needs to be said for Fugo to know that he’s added one more hurt to a very long list.

“Just,” Fugo tries and glances helplessly at Giorno, but the Don seems to have made his escape in the little outburst of chaotic emotions once he had realized the two weren’t a threat to one another. “I’m different.” It sounds ridiculous in his own ears, and it doesn’t cover the reality of what he’s hiding behind his hood and his clenched fists.

Narancia laughs. A startled sound that gets ripped from him before he really processes the words, or the look on Fugo’s face. He feels bad almost immediately and tries to recover the situation by saying, “You’re you.”

Fugo inhales deeply and holds his breath a moment before he drops his hands away finally. The hood falls down around his shoulders, and he has to steel himself to avoid turning away.

“Oh,” Narancia sucks in a breath. He reaches his hands to either side of Fugo’s mouth, only hesitating a moment when Fugo stiffens, but he forces his own hands steady enough to brush his thumb over the newly gnarled skin. Well, not that new, he supposes. The scars are healed enough; no longer the bright, angry red that they once were, but it’s clear they had been painful. They may still be. Narancia thinks it must hurt when they pull at the corners of Fugo’s mouth whenever he speaks.

“Purple Haze,” Fugo explains without really explaining. He gives a half shrug and stares down, but he’s startled when Narancia surges forward and kisses him. Of all the reactions he had been expecting, that has to have been the last on his list.

It’s not as if kissing is new to them. They’ve done it plenty of times before, when they were together. Before Fugo chose to stay behind and watched Narancia swim off after the boat without him. When his feet had been cemented to the ground underneath him and his heart had been hammering in his chest and his stomach had been doing its best to turn itself inside out because they were all going to die, and nothing he could do or say would change it.

He doesn’t deserve Narancia now. Doesn’t deserve his undying devotion and his freely offered affection. He can’t justify asking for forgiveness, much less another chance at what they had before, yet here they are.

Narancia draws back with a gasp of air. His eyes bore into Fugo’s, searching, and he must find whatever he’s looking for because he’s grinning wide. “You look badass, Panna,” he says and steals a second kiss while Fugo’s brain reels violently.

The next time they break apart for air, Narancia runs both hands and eyes over Fugo, undoubtedly searching for more marks. More changes, and he finds them in the form of Fugo’s hair, which has gotten absurdly long in his time away. He can’t bring himself to let anyone cut it, and it hardly bothers him.

There’s a moment he worries that Narancia might hate it, but Narancia has his hands in the soft, white locks with that same, goofy look on his face. “You look so pretty with your hair like this,” he tells Fugo with so much love in his voice that it almost burns.

“How can I look badass and pretty?” Fugo asks, though it isn’t important. It’s something to focus on. Something that means nothing at all. His hair is inconsequential. A safe topic for him to latch onto until his heart stops pounding painfully in his chest.

“You’re asking me!” Narancia says in a non-answer. He brushes his fingers through Fugo’s hair again and again, and all Fugo can do is lean into the touch that he’s missed for so long. He hasn’t been able to let anyone else get close since that day with the damned boat. It had been like being thirteen again. Where he felt alone and scared; every noise making him jump and check over his shoulder, prepared for something ugly and unspeakable, but the only real, irreparable damage that he’s taken is from his own Stand. A penance for all the hurt that he’s inflicted on those that he cares about most.

“Does Bucci know you’re back? He’s going to lose his mind, but oh! Too bad, because I call Panna time first, and I’m not giving it up for nothin’,” not even to Bucciarati, who Narancia has the utmost respect for. He doesn’t care; he’s waited so long for this, and Fugo came back with new scars and pretty hair. They’re both things he wants to commit to his memory via the longest cuddle session he can get away with.

“Not yet, and I think he’ll understand,” Fugo replies with the barest of smiles.

“Good, let’s go!” Narancia moves his hands from Fugo’s hair to grasp at one of Fugo’s. He intertwines their fingers and tugs hard enough to nearly knock Fugo off balance, but Fugo recovers enough to allow himself to be dragged along.

He still feels like a raw nerve. Fight or flight are just on the edge of his conscious brain, and his ribs ache from the way his heart continues to beat too hard and too fast. There’s a lingering feeling that he doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t deserve any of this, but he pushes the self-hatred down for now. Somehow, Narancia doesn’t hate him, and nothing else matters.

#narafugo #fugonara #narancia ghirga #pannacotta fugo #giorno giovanna #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #vento aureo #golden wind #jjba part 5 #blitzwrites #blitz

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

Severed blood ties...

A gift for the dear @sergeant-donny-donowitz​

Hope you will​ enjoy the story...

France, 1945.

Tied to a chair, Hans Landa, the infamous "Jew Hunter," furiously glanced at his jailers. The enemies he vowed to bring down were the ones who finally defeated him. Those men who the German troops nicknamed "The Basterds" put an end to the Nazi regime, stopping the war in the process.

Holding his head up, he arrogantly said:

"May I guess that you're happy, Lieutenant Raine?"

"Ya bet I am! It's been a long time since I wanna catch ya! And here ya are!"

Landa has a rictus.

"You pretend to be a hero, but we both know that you are only a redneck murderer from Maynardville!"

"Lieutenant, do ya want me to make him shut up?" asked Donny as he held his prized baseball bat.

"It would be very distracting, indeed!" smirked Wicki as he lighted his cigarette.

"Na, not now, guys!" answered Raine.

The Apache turned to the Nazi and explained:

"To answer ya question, Hans, you don't stop a war without getting yer hands dirty, right? After all, you are an expert in this field..."

"Unlike you, I don't kill people..."

"Not directly. But every time you're somewhere, it's like a death sentence!"

"I return you the compliment, Lieutenant Raine!" snarled Landa.

Utivitch raised an eyebrow.

"Is it just me or Landa seem mad at us?"

"I share your impression, Private," stated Hicox.

Stiglitz glared at their prisoner with all the hate he had. For the deserter of the S.S, Landa was the epitome of what he loathed the most.

"Why can't we kill him on the spot?" he growled.

"The orders are the orders, Hugo: the general staff wants him alive," answered Omar.

"What a shame!" scoffed Hirschberg.

"Anyway! Now, I would like to know why he seems pissed!" asked Sakowitz.

"Don't bother! He would never tell us..." scoffed Zimmerman.

"Okay, who dared drink his beer?" jokingly asked Kagan, making his comrades laugh.

However, this joke pissed off Hans, who snapped:

"You EXACTLY know what you've done!"

All the Basters stayed silent, surprised by Landa's outburst.

Wicki replied:

"Apart from screwing your plans up and killing your men, I really don't see what you are talking about..."

"Killing! What an appropriate word for your biggest crime against me, Private Wicki."

Annoyed, Donny roared:

"WHADDYA TELL US WHAT WE HAVE DONE, PRECISELY?"

"Calm down, Donny, calm down!" said Omar.

"Okay, Landa... What pisses you off right now?"

The S.S officer found his calm composure and asked:

"Do you remember Captain (Y/N) (L/N)?"

"Captain (Y/N) (L/N)... It rings a bell to me..." muttered Utivitch.

"This guy was one of the youngest captains of the Wehrmacht. A lot of people said he was a brilliant officer and a capable leader," explained Hugo.

"Sergeant Stiglitz is right. According to MI6 files, the young Captain (L/N) quickly rose to the top. He excelled both at his exams and at his missions. Even the Führer held him up as an example..." added Hicox.

"I got it! Was it not the guy we met in Italy during our mission over there, two years ago?" inquired Zimmermann.

"That's right! It was the young Kraut captain who fought us near Milan! Hell, we struggled to save our skins!" exclaimed Sakowitz.

"A brave boy, I admit. Crazy, but brave." nodded Raine.

"Tell me if I am wrong, Landa, but you hold a grudge against us because of this boy?" asked Wicki.

"Why? Because he was your boyfriend?" snickered Hugo.

"HE WAS MY SON!" exploded Landa.

When they heard that, all the Basterds screamed:

"WHAAAAAAT?"

"(Y/N) (L/N) was ya boy?" asked Raine.

Fuming with rage, the Jew Hunter sighed:

"Yes, he was. (Y/N) was my only child."

"But you don't share the same last name." pointed out Sakowitz.

"He took his mother's name when he entered the army to avoid any accusation of nepotism."

"Okay... So, all you have done against us until now... was only to avenge your boy?" inquired Omar.

"Your judgment is remarkable, Private Ulmer!" said ironically Landa.

"Don't be a smartass, Landa! Maybe the general staff wants you alive, but we can have fun until we arrive in the United States!" snapped Stiglitz.

"Would you dare wound a defenseless opponent, Sergeant? I know it is your modus operandi, but still..."

"If I were you, I would keep my mouth shut. Because my dear friend Donny here would like to bash your skull like a baseball!"

"Ya bet I do!"

"Calm down, boys!"

Suddenly, Landa heard a door opening behind him and a young masculine voice saying:

"My apologizes for being late, Lieutenant Raine."

"Don't worry, boy. We just chat with our guest."

Puzzled, Landa asked:

"Who is it?"

Smirking, Hicox replied:

"In your defense, Landa, you could not know our dear friend here. He prefers working in the shadows... Such a humble boy!"

"I am flattered by your compliment, Lieutenant Hicox." replied the newcomer.

Trying to see who is talking, Hans scoffed:

"And why is he here? Is he going to torture me too?"

Much to his surprise, the newcomer replied in perfect German:

"Nein, dafür bin ich nicht hier. Es wäre Zeitverschwendung!" (No,  that's not what I am here for. It would be a waste of time!)

Impressed, Landa replied with a smirk on his lips:

"Du sprichst Deutsch wie ein Einheimischer..." (You speak German like a local...)

"Das liegt daran, dass ich in Österreich geboren wurde." (That's because I was born in Austria) replied the mysterious young man as he walked to Landa.

This voice sounded familiar to Landa, but he cannot tell where he did hear it. But this accent... He was sure he heard it before!

"Wer bist du?" (Who are you?)

"Du weißt wer ich bin ... Vater." (You know who I am ... father.) replied the young man as he sat in front of Landa.

When he saw the face of the person he was speaking to, the Jew Hunter nearly had a heart attack.

"(Y/N)..."

"Himself, father." replied the young man with a smirk on his lips.

The S.S colonel could not believe it: his flesh and blood was alive! A wave of relief went through his body. But he cannot help but wonder how (Y/N) managed to survive at the hands of the Americans.

Stammering, Hans asked:

"But... But you died! The survivors of your detachment told me that you get killed by Lieutenant Raine!"

"They thought Lieutenant Raine killed me. But the truth is... I faked my death!"

"WHAT?"

Landa could not believe his ears: his son dared betray the army he swore to serve!

"But... How could you do such a crime?"

"Let me return you the question, father. How could you sleep at night while knowing that you send innocent people to their death?"

"That's not the question! You betrayed your army, you dishonored our name..."

The loud slap on his face made him shut up. When he looked at his son's face, he saw a wave of boiling anger in his eyes.

"You thought that I dishonored our name? But look at you: you paraded with this stupid uniform until you crawl in front of the Americans for saving your skin."

"Do not talk about crawling in front of the Americans, boy! You did not act better than I do!"

(Y/N) looked at his father with disdain.

"Maybe. But at least, I redeemed myself by helping the Allies. Did not ask yourself how the Basterds manage to outsmart you?"

Hand stared in amazement as he realized.

"YOU WERE THE MOLE?"

"Bingo, dad. Unfortunately, your loyal lapdog named Hellstrom knew something was wrong and was not far from discovering the truth. It was at this moment I planned to fake my death... with the help of my new friends, of course!" explained the young man while gesturing at the Basterds.

Hans fumed with rage: he hated being outsmarted. But the betrayal of his son was the last straw!

"I can't believe you even dare betray me, your father!"

The icy glare of (Y/N) sent a chill down his spine.

"You're right: you're my father, but only for blood. The fact is you never loved me. You belittled me, pushed me away... All because you wanted me to be your carbon copy. I tried to be the son you wanted me to be, but nothing was enough for the great Hans Landa."

Every word (Y/N) was full of hate and pain, and they hit Landa like a punch.

"But I must admit that you were a great teacher. I've learned a lot from you. Thanks to you, I have learned to speak different languages. With this skill, I can exchange pieces of information with various interlocutors. 

Thanks to you, I mastered the art of deception. Do you want an example? While I gave the pitch of the perfect little Nazi, I helped many Jews escaping from you."

The young man smirked like a predator.

"I have acquired so much from you that I was able to foresee all your comings and goings."

Trying to keep his composure, Hans retorted:

"And you came here just to say that?"

(Y/N) burst into laughter.

"No, dear father... I am here also to say goodbye!"

"Goodbye?"

His son nodded.

"Yes, indeed. Because this touching meeting is our last!"

"What does it mean?"

"The general staff allowed me to see you one last time before your trial... and your move to Nantucket Island. After that, you will never see me again."

(Y/N) shrugged.

"After all, you're not supposed to see me, as I am officially dead!"

He got up and said:

"Now, if you excuse me, Colonel Landa, I have some work to do before we depart for the United States. Enjoy your stay in France!"

(Y/N) went to the exit, followed by the Basterds.

Losing his temper, Hans yelled at him:

"Sure, go away! Anyhow, I have no son!"

(Y/N) turned his head and said:

"As for me, I consider myself as an orphan since my father said Heil Hitler!"

He smirked.

"Besides, (Y/N) (L/N) belonged to the past... as well as (Y/N) Landa. Now, you can call me (Y/N) Raine, like the father I found."

Smiling, Aldo gently ruffled (Y/N)'s hair.

"Come on, kiddo. Time to get home!"

As the door closed in front of him, Hans Landa let out a scream of pain and anger: this time, he lost the war for good. 

And the fatal blow came from his son, who severed their blood ties with his sharp words.

Even him, the great detective, did not see that coming... 

Thanks for the reading!

I hope you enjoy the story!

Your requests are always welcomed here!

Stay safe and see you later! 😘🥰😍

#requests #gifts #inglourious basterds #hans landa #christoph waltz #jannik schümann