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clockwayswrites · 7 months

Text

Like Betta Fish Do Part 25

WC: 3,537 Masterpost CW: Canon typical violence

“I can’t believe I’m in a custom suit,” Danny said as he admired himself in the mirror.

“It is really weird the first few times,” Jason agreed as he did up his own cufflinks.

Danny twisted so that the very faint blue on blue pattern sewn into the suit caught the light. It gave the impression of rolling waves. “So how many fish things did you manage to fit in?”

He watched the reflection to catch Jason’s lips tick up into a pleased smile.

“Well there’s the fabric itself, deep ocean blue.”

“And patterned like waves,” Danny finished. “I caught that.”

“Your shirt and tie are sea foam white.”

“Okay, that one might be a stretch,” Danny said, but he touched the fabric gently.

Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m counting it. The pocket square, very nontraditional, is a Japanese indigo linen in a pattern that is a historic representation of waves. The buttons are abalone, the cufflinks red coral, and the tie pin is mother of pearl.”

“Six, if I give you sea foam white.”

“You better, I worked hard on this. And it’s actually seven, one last thing,” Jason said. He picked up a blue velvet jewelry box off his side table and held it out.

Danny took it curiously. It was bigger than a ring box, but smaller than a necklace case. He brushed his thumb over the soft covering before he snapped the lid open. His breath caught.

Inside was a set of earrings. Simple silver studs for for his cartilage piercings, a pearl earring for his left ear, and then the show stopper: a crystal studded and delicate woven silver betta fish on a chain for his right ear. Its black pearl eyes were bright. They almost made it seem alive.

“Jason…”

“I tried to stay subtle with the rest, but this I couldn’t resist,” he said. “You’re my fish, and everyone at the gala should know that.”

Danny carefully closed the box before he flung his arms around Jason’s neck and pulled the other down for a kiss.

“Careful,” Jason murmured when the kiss broke, “if we show up late and mussed Tim will frown at us the whole night.”

“That would be a shame,” Danny whispered back before kissing Jason again.

“I can’t believe I’m being the voice of reason,” Jason said, “but you have to let me get dressed.”

“Fine,” Danny said, even if it made him want to pout. “Maybe… I can take it off after the gala then?”

The pink that Jason blushed was more than worth being bold and Danny took a moment to admire it before he turned to put in the earrings.

Behind him, Jason knotted a white (or sea foam, Danny supposed) tie and shrugged on a matching jacket. The suit looked bright, almost glowing, against the rich blue dress shirt that complimented Danny’s own suit. He couldn’t be sure what it was from this distance, but Danny thought he saw the glint of white on white embroidery on the cuffs and lapels of the suit. It was the silver fish bone tie pin that made him laugh.

“People are going to have questions.”

“Let them,” Jason said with a cheshire smile.

“I’m starting to get what going to a gala with you will be like,” Danny said.

“Oh, this is tame for me,” Jason said. “I’m behaving.”

“I know, it’s part of your charm.”

“If only the press thought that,” Jason said, grabbing his phone as it beeped. “That’s our car.”

“I wish we could just take your bike,” Danny said, watching Jason put his phone back down, “and our phones.”

“Suit lines. I’ve got a connection to the family,” Jason assured Danny.

“Still. But I guess those suit lines do really great things for your ass and it would be a shame to ruin that,” Danny agreed with a put upon sigh.

“You’re incorrigible tonight,”Jason said (not that he seemed to mind if his smirk was any hint).

“Maybe it’s just that new years mood,” Danny said with a little shrug, lacing their fingers together as they left. “This year turned out pretty great, and I bet next year is going to be even better.”

“Yeah? Any reason for that?”

“Well, I happened to move to a city that’s pretty weird but also pretty awesome,” Danny said.

“Good reason,” Jason agreed. “What else?”

“I’m finally in the degree for what I want to do, and I’m kicking ass at it.”

“Of course you are, you’re brilliant,” Jason said, holding the door open to the town car after he subtly checked the plates. “Nothing else?”

“Well,” Danny drew the word out as he slid into the car. “There’s this guy I met, maybe you know him? Tall, dark, and handsome?”

“I don’t know, he doesn’t sound real,” Jason teased and leaned into Danny’s space.

Danny leaned up and pressed Jason into a light kiss. “He is pretty magical.”

“The red carpet, less than magical,” Danny said once they were through the sea of reporters and photographers. “I’m going to be seeing camera flashes for weeks.”

“Only a few hours at most,” Jason said.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not, your whole being is just one blinding white blur,” Danny said, motioning at Jason, who laughed and caught Danny’s hand.

Jason pressed a quick kiss to the fingertips. The cameras went off in another round of flashes, apparently not having enough of the lost Wayne and his boyfriend. “Come on, let’s head further in away from this circus.”

“Is your family here yet?” Danny asked as they headed into the gala proper. Jason was skilled at keeping them moving without getting caught up by any one group, even as he greeted some of them.

“Bruce, Damian, and Duke arrived pretty on time so Bruce could greet people. Tim is around here somewhere too, networking I’m sure unless Bernard has distracted him. He’ll have arrived with Cass and Steph, who you haven’t met. Steph isn’t family, but she’s family, you know?”

“I think so?” Danny at least assume that meant she was in the Bat life.

“And Dick should be around here or will soon, likely with Barbie.”

“Barbie?” Danny took one of the drink glasses that Jason had snagged. The tart tang of cranberry bloomed across his tongue followed by the burn of alcohol and lingering taste of sugar. It was good.

“Yeah, but don’t call her that. Her name is Barbara, but she goes by Babs.”

“But you can get away with Barbie?”

“He was a very cute kid,” a voice behind them said. “Somehow he convinced me to let him.”

Danny spun and then had to look down to meet the gaze of the red headed woman in a wheelchair. He couldn’t help but feel a pang for Jazz, but it was softened by the fact that he’d get to see her soon.

“Bull,” Danny said with a smile, offering his hand. “I refuse to believe that Jason was ever not a little shit.”

“Oh, no, he was still a little shit,” Babs said, returning the handshake firmly. “But he was a cute little shit.”

Danny sighed dramatically and looked over at Jason. “Where did you go so wrong?”

“Hey, I believe it was you who were extolling the virtues of my ass in this suit not that long ago,” Jason said with just the hint of a pout.

“I think most of the press will be doing that too, so I’m not sure how much weight that has,” Babs said, painted lips ticked up in clear amusement.

Jason just sighed while Danny laughed.

“I like you, Babs. Is Babs okay for me to call you?”

“Of course, you’re Jason’s man, so you can call me Babs. And I really do prefer it to Barbara. The name is just a little old fashion, you know?”

“And you’re a modern kind of woman?” Danny asked with a smile.

“In so many ways,” Babs said. “But I better go make the rounds, or at least find where Dick is. He got distracted.”

“Isn't he always?” Jason said and bid Babs farewell.

“Are they together? Dick and Babs?” Danny ask as he watched her wheel away.

“Not anymore, but they were,” Jason explained. “They’re still really close. And Babs has been close to the family for a lot of years, so she’s special to all of us, you know? She’s a real inspiration to Cass and Steph.”

Oh, that sort of friend. “Wait, was she?”

“Yeah. So you know.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Danny said. The wheelchair meant something a little differently now. He took a breath and looked around the gala, which was already swarming with beautiful, laughing people. He felt out of place without Babs’ friendly face distracting him.

“Come on, I bet we can find some family to talk too,” Jason said, taking Danny’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “There are a few people who I’ll need to hit up tonight for the Foundation stuff, you know, try to get some donations from them or build up the start of that, but you don’t have to hang with me during any of that. There's plenty of siblings around for you to chat with and use as a distraction. Hell, could always introduce you to Lucius or some of the other inventors we have and you all could talk nerd shop.”

“Nerd shop,” Danny repeated with a sigh. “You say Lucius who I’m going to assume is the Lucius Fox and call it nerd shop like that man is not out there breaking barriers and changing the world with his inventions? And that’s just the stuff that’s been announced to the public! Who knows what else he’s been doing behind closed doors! It must be mind blowing.”

“Well, thank you, but I have a lot of very smart people working for me, so it’s hardly just my work that’s out there making waves,” a silky voice said from behind them.

Danny spun and couldn’t help the little squeak he gave.

Jason chuckled and reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Lucius, how are you doing? Did you manage to drag any of your family to tonight’s event?”

“Just my lovely wife. The rest found excuses, you know how it is.”

“I do. Sadly I’m in a position of note now,” Jason said, the words practically had air quotes around them, “so I’m afraid that my days of excuses are gone.”

“Oh, I’m sure that you can still find a few when you truly need them. You’ve always been mighty good at that.”

Jason just shrugged with an unrepentant grin. “Well, you know. But anyway, Lucius, this is my boyfriend Danny. Danny, this, as I guess you know from that sound you made, is Lucius Fox.”

“Of course I know. Really, sir, the work you and your teams have done… amazing.”

“Just Lucius, Danny,” the man said, reaching out to shake Danny’s hand. “If you’re dating Jason I expect that we’ll run into each other from time to time and I am too old for formalities like that.”

“Alright, just Lucius then. I can’t wait to tell my friend Tucker I met you.”

“Another one for, what was that you said Jason, ‘nerd shop talk’ like you are?”

“Totally. He’s in computer sciences, but he’s not bad at engineering some hardware when he needs to. Mostly to be able to get his software to run on, but I always make fun of his soldering.”

“So you must solder a lot then?”

“Yes s— er Lucius. Aerospace engineering, but I grew up always tinkering and things. I still do it some, but it’s harder here when I don’t have the space, you know? First dibs on tables and tools go to the other majors, which I get, since they need them more than us.”

“Still, hard not to be able to get your hands dirty when you want to. Are you going to be in Gotham for the summer? Not sure where you call home.”

“Well, at the moment, home is Gotham. I want to visit some friends and my sisters, but I’ll be here, yeah. I might take a summer course and get an advanced math knocked out or something.”

“A good plan. You should reach back out to me around early May then. I bet we can find a corner of one of the labs for you to at least use on the weekends when no one is around doing work much.”

“Really?” Danny said, hands twitching at just the idea of getting into a space where he could do some inventing. He had so many new ideas from his time at Gotham U on to improve some of his parent’s inventions or even make new things.

“Really. There will be the usual red tape and all, background checks and paper work and hours you’re allowed in, but those things can be worked out. Can’t keep a curious mind and skilled hands stagnant, now can we?”

“I know I can’t,” Danny said with a little laugh. “Thank you Lucius, really, I’ll definitely take advantage of that again. And start planning! I mean I have plans, of course I do, but a lot is just rough sketches, you know? I need to do some proper diagrams for a few things.”

He didn’t want to waste a moment once he had access to tools again— especially not the tools that were available to him at a place like Wayne Enterprises. Danny idly wondered if it would be out by summer that he knew about the Bats. Lucius had to be involved in that work and it would be so cool to take a look under the proverbial and the literal hood of those gadgets. Did they store the Batplane here?

Lucius chuckled and smiled. “Yes, I think you’ll fit right into that corner. You two boys behave now.”

“Never,” Jason said with a laugh and shook Lucius’ hand one more time as they parted ways.

The night turned into a slew of little meetings like that— people coming up to talk to Jason. Some of the conversations were enjoyable like with Babs and Lucius (Steph was overwhelming, but cool), some were with the many family members Jason had, and some were with the tpyical the socialite crowd. Those people seemed either to be there to get their claws in Jason or to observe Danny like he was some curiosity. Danny really could do without that type. Luckily, Jason seemed to know this, and Danny was passed off to Dick a few hours in and then freed to the food table after some teasing.

Really, even with the gawkers, the night was pretty fun.

“Hey Barbie, have you seen Danny recently?” Jason asked as he crossed her path at the party.

“No, but I’ve been talking tech. Have you tried over by the food?”

“That’s where I just came from,” Jason said with a little frown. These things were really too busy, one of the many reasons that he hated them. “I guess I’ll go try another sibling. Dick hadn’t seen him in a bit either, he got distracted by one of the people from the foundation that works with kids.”

“I keep waiting for him to join you there, you know. You could try Tim if he hasn’t been co-opted by Bernard yet,” she suggested. “How long has he been schmoozing?”

“Too long, Tim is worthless to me I’m sure. Cass would be—”

Jason dropped instinctively to cover Babs before he even registered the sound of shattering glass.

“Jason—”

The all to familiar muzzle of a gun pressed into the base of Jason’s head. “Turn around slowly. Try anything and I’ll shoot through you to get your lovely friend.”

Jason locked eyes with Babs, a thousand messages passed in that look as he slowly raised his hands and turned around.

It was one of the waiters.

Okay, it was a number of the waiters, Jason mentally corrected as he took in the room. Each of them with a gun pointed at some portion of the party. Jason spotted Bruce and Damian where they were being rounded up and Steph over on the edges of the room, but he couldn’t find Tim, Dick, or Cass on the quick glance at the space.

He snapped his focus back to the gunman at a popping sound. The man raised his left hand to his face and smeared the popped paint pellet across his face, coating half of it in a splotchy blue.

Guess they knew what Two Face was up to now. Speaking of the man of the hour, Two Face walked through the shadowed window, black and white suit spotless and fit for the event, and flanked by henchmen. He was clapping. Head tilted so that the bright lights caught his good side.

“Lovely event Bruice! Really, a shinning light in Gotham to ring in the new year. Don’t mind us, please, we’re just here to pick up the usual, jewels, watches, money clips, wire transfers. I’m afraid we need the extra funding…” He twitched, twisting so that the scarred side of his face was tilted forward. “Because the damn Bat made sure we lost it all! I’m hoping he shows tonight. I’d like to make sure he doesn’t make it to the new year!”

Dent cleared his throat; his right hand smoothed back his hair, tipping his head back the other way. “Sorry about that. Just some… linger resentment. You all know how it is. But let’s not get too serious yet! Brucie! And his adorable little spawn! Some of our guests of honor too! Behave if you don’t want to be shot in the head.”

Jason watched helplessly as Bruce, Damian, and several other social elite like the mayor were lashed together with rope. Two Face walked over after they were trussed and slapped a bomb to Bruce’s chest. While the the henchman secured it, Two Face turned to the crowd.

“Where is he? Our darling lost prince of Gotham?”

The gunman stuck the cold metal back to the base of Jason’s neck and pushed him forward.

The bomb started ticking down.

“There you are! When I heard you returned to us, my heart swelled, truly,” Dent said, looking up with his good eye as if praying to heaven. “And now! Now I hear you’ve found love!”

Dent bent over, cackling. The enlarged, yellow eye looked up at Jason from under the white bangs. “So let’s play a game while we count down to midnight.”

Two Face’s goons dramatically rolled out a podium. Two bright red buttons were mounted to it, right below a large television.

Danny was on the screen.

He was tied to a chair in some building’s basement. A bruise was already blooming to life around his right eye, deep blue as his suit. He had clearly caught a fist to the lip too. The fish earring was bright silver, catching light reflected from the pool of water that the chair was sat in.

“As you see, we’re giving your boyfriend some hospitality,” Dent said, smooth side of his face to Jason as he walked around the podium like some perverse Vanna White. “So you have a simple choice: decided what type of love is more important to you. Do you press the left button and save your boyfriend, letting your family and these other lovely people die to the bomb…”

He rounded the screen, scarred open eye starting at Jason accusingly. “…or do you press the button on the right and save the people in this room, but fry your boyfriend to death with electricity?”

Two Face snapped his fingers.

Danny’s head jerked up, unfocused eyes staring just to the right of the screen.

“Hey, dead boy,” Danny rasped. Just talking made the split on his lip crack and bleed again, adding another line of blood to his chin. On the screen the red was bright, bright, bright—

Jason clenched his hands. He was going to kill Two Face. “Hey, fish.”

“You know, the irony of this whole thing is that it does make me realize I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you.”

“Yeah? That's convenient. I've been in love with you for weeks.”

Dent cackled and motioned grandly at the trussed up people. The bright, bright red of the bombs’ timer counted down another tick. “Looks like you're all out of luck! True love always wins.”

He twisted to Jason with the scarred side of his face and growled, “Forty-five seconds left.”

“You know what you have to do, don't you?” Danny asked.

He was smiling at Jason, a soft calm thing. But Jason didn't know if he could trust it. He didn’t know Danny's limits. He didn’t know if this would kill him the rest of the way.

But he did know what Danny would never forgive him for. He knew he didn't really have a choice. “I do. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.”

Jason lunged and hit the right button. On the screen, the wires sparked bright with electricity, lighting up the pool of water. And Danny screamed.

And screamed.

The camera cut out.

---

AN: We're finally here! To the scene I wrote last year! Aaaaaah~

I would say I'm sorry, but this time I truly am not. (Please don't stab me.) ._.

It will be fiiiiiiiine... right?

#dp x dc #dead on main #like betta fish do

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soundspeachytome · 4 months

Text

baby fever - shohei ohtani au

summary: (i don't think this needs a summary, the title says it all lol)

word count: 10,584K

tags: fluff, mentions of sex, impregnation

other notes: midnight word vomit things~ i honestly didn't think i would be able to write something so soon after the one i posted on NYE but i'm blaming that video of shohei playing with some kids on my timeline. my thoughts have secured me a seat in hell.

enjoy and cry in delusion with me.

=====================================

Shohei couldn’t help himself but beam all the way home. He had spent his entire day surrounded by a group of kids no older than twelve years old, the youngest around five, to help facilitate the annual children sports camp at the elementary school he worked at. Being the only teacher who had played baseball during his primary and secondary years in school, he was elected by default to coach a few hours’ session of baseball basics to which he did not object. Aside from that, he also helped facilitate another few hours in assisting the lead teachers during the games like scavenger hunt, capture the flag, and water balloon dodgeball. The last one being his favorite, he was just supposed to be watching and making sure none of the kids get hurt, or if ever they do, he’d play medic when the need arises. Thankfully, his first aid skills were put to the backseat and he was joined in on the fun when one of the twelve-year old campers aimed a water gun at him. He had no choice but to retaliate. With his wide hands and arm support, he grabbed a bunch of water balloons and aimed at anyone within proximity, creating an entirely new chaos between the kids and the other teachers, too.

He had ended the day soaked and sore from all the laughing and running around trying to avoid the kids aiming at him. Thankfully, you had made sure to pack him extra clothes to change into. “Just in case you get a little too fun and get soaked in sweat,” you had said, ignoring Shohei’s initial comments on not needing extra clothes since he was not technically sleeping over for the night. But proven to be always right, he made a mental note to get you something special as a way to thank you for being, well, the best.

After he had changed into his comfy cotton pants and white shirt, he bid goodbye to everyone at camp, especially the kids he had made friends with. They hugged him and some even gave him DIY goodbye presents (one gave him a bracelet made out of plucked flowers and laced it around his wrist), a tall kid with glasses who must be around seven years old gave him his precious Snickers bar, almost melted, and the youngest girl of the bunch clung onto his leg and tried to stop him from leaving. These short but meaningful interactions touched Shohei that he almost felt bad for leaving.

“Will you teach us again next summer camp, Teacher?” one kid had asked.

“Hmm. Maybe, we’ll see,” Shohei beamed, eyeing the other teachers in response. If not for the lead teachers and school principal, he would not have been able to cross the schoolgate and reach his car. He waved one last goodbye to the kids who stood behind the gates and then drove away.

He couldn’t wait to go home to you and tell you about his day.

You were in the kitchen when you heard Shohei’s Corolla park in the garage. You continued tending to the Tsuyu broth and soba noodles that you were saving up for a warm day like this.

While Shohei was out for camp duties the entire day, you were able to finish the flower embroidery design you had been challenged with for over a week now. Being new to the craft, you had a slightly difficult time understanding the patterns in the first place, but once you got the hang of it, you were on a roll and without realizing it, you were already done. You regretted buying only one design thinking it would take you longer to complete it, and also considering that you were the type to abandon something when you feel overwhelmed or had just simply lost the fixation, just like the few hundred other abandoned projects you started this year. This time, however, you were so accomplished that you couldn’t wait for Shohei to come home and brag.

Upon his arrival, Shohei sees you busy in the kitchen, humming to Adele. He put his bag on the countertop and went straight to you, your back facing him. He embraced you from behind, leaning his chin on your shoulder and slightly shifted his weight against your body.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” You angled your face upwards to meet him and he planted a kiss straight to your lips. When you went back to what you were doing, he left kisses on the small spots on your neck and shoulder.

“Hmm, I love soba. I was craving for this.” He murmured against your skin. He still had his arms wrapped around, waiting for you to finish and give him your full attention.

“Really? Didn’t I tell you that I’m a mind-reader?” you joked and turned the stove off and faced Shohei.

“Yes and you are the best.” He did not waste another second and kissed you tastefully on the mouth. As soon as he got your attention, he made sure your tongue was preoccupied with his.

You stayed like that for a few seconds. A slow summer day deserves an equally slow and hot makeout session like this. Shohei put both his hands behind your back and you had no choice but to push your body closer to him while you coiled your hands behind the nape of his neck, tugging a few strands of his thick hair.

“What’s gotten you so worked up today, love?” you asked when you separated.

He pulled back, catching his breath and looked seriously at you.

“Let’s start doing it, love.”

“Do what?”

“Kids. Babies. I want to put a baby on you right now.” He massaged your lower back and showered your neck with more kisses.

“So sudden?” You looked at Shohei with bewilderment. You weren’t angry or anything, just a little surprised that he had suddenly brought it up. You had always known to use oral and physical contraception ever since you started dating and like an unspoken promise, you made sure that your relationship would not bear anything both of you didn’t feel like committing to yet. But this was definitely something new.

“I was just thinking… At camp, the kids loved playing with me… some even clung to me–like this–” he hugged you tightly in demonstration. “--and I almost choked up when I was driving away.”

“And…?”

“I played with kids the whole day, I realized that I really, really want to have kids.” He pouted.

In a way, Shohei had always been great with kids. You saw how he used to fawn over your neighbors’ kids and their tiny steps, how he’d wave to babies in strollers whenever you’d pass by them, smiling extra wide.

“Like, I really, really, really do. We’ve been married for three years now. Don’t you think it’s time for us to get pregnant?”

You were silent the whole time, looking straight into Shohei’s face, and trying to see any hint of him joshing around but he was nothing but serious with his dead set eyes and determination.

“What are you thinking, love?” He asked, getting fidgety after seeing you were quiet for a while.

“Are we even ready for kids? There are a lot of newer parents that get divorced after babies are born…” you trailed off. Shohei noticed your worry and decided to change the topic.

“I’m sorry, I won’t force it if you’re not comfortable.” he kissed your nose and pulled you into a tight hug. “The noodles look amazing! So much about my day, they can wait… What did you do all day without me?”

Dinner ensued and the pregnancy topic was never brought up again, much to your relief. Shohei was quite understanding and never the pushy type. He always made sure that when you both decide on anything, you were both in it, just like when he moved in with you after a year of dating, when you decided to get married a few months after, and then buying a house.

You felt no pressure whatsoever about creating a family with Shohei because he never pressured you or his family. You don’t know if you wanted kids at all. When you were single, you thought there was not a single good man left on earth but meeting Shohei had changed your mind. Maybe, with the right kind of man, it’d be possible to love and still be loved properly while having kids. So yes, maybe. Maybe one day, you’d want Shohei’s children but were waiting for the right time. You hoped maybe someday, bearing kids will not just be a reluctant maybe, but a definite, sure and unwavering yes.

Not until Shohei’s sister came to town to visit a few days later and brought their two year old daughter in tow. Shohei was ecstatic. He had fallen in love with his niece the moment he met her. He’d carry her as much as he could when they visited, buying her presents for every occasion, sometimes even when there’s really nothing to celebrate at all.

This time, when Shohei had picked up his niece, Nora, from her trolley and into his arms, kissing her lightly on the cheek, cooing and swinging her back and forth along with their boisterous laughter ringing around the house, you felt something shifted.

You felt the anxiety on your shoulders lift and leave your body, leaving you with an immense sensation of love and happiness. You sat at the dinner table watching Shohei play peekaboo with Nora while she sits on his lap, and couldn’t help but imagine Shohei carrying a baby–your offspring–while feeding her, or humming it to sleep. It sounds like a beautiful dream, doesn’t it?

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

After they had left and the house was silent again, you cornered Shohei in the kitchen, who was loading the dishes in the dishwasher. He was humming a Cocomelon nursery rhyme which you assumed was the same song he had played on his ipad with Nora.

“Shohei.” You tugged his arm and looked at him straight in the eyes.

“Yes, love?”

“Let’s do it.”

“Do what now?” He said mindlessly, pulling his sleeves down and shrugged off the kitchen apron.

“Fuck a baby into me, I said.” You raised your voice, unsure where to look.

It took him a few seconds to understand but when it finally dawned on him, he wasted no time and carried you into his arms bridal style.

When he pushed you onto the bed, kissing you hungrily, both of you still half-undressed, he suddenly pulled back and asked, “Wait, is this your new kink now? Seeing me with kids?”

“What, no.” Your hands busied on the buckle of Shohei’s belt and when that ordeal was done, had pulled his boxers down to touch him. Like a knee jerk reaction, his hips jerked forward to your hand.

Definitely.

“Hmm, this is going to be a long night,” he whispered, biting at the garter of your underwear and pulling it down with his teeth. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

Absolutely.

“I’ve never been so sure.”

You pushed yourself up on your elbows and met Shohei’s lips, while he slowly entered you, both of you adjusting to the size and feeling. He started thrusting in and out of you hungrily, as if on a mission, determined to fill you to the brim. And you, on the brink of pleasure and chasing your high, you couldn’t help but moan Shohei’s name and said, yes, yes, yes, over and over. Like an assurance statement, like a promise.

This is my yes, unquestionably, a hundred times over.

#shohei ohtani au #shohei ohtani imagines #shohei ohtani pov #shohei ohtani #shohei ohtani smut #shohei ohtani fluff

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ami-v-dragnire · 2 years

Photo

“Get Ready With Me” my comic for the @itsstylishzine! A zine dedicated to Aziraphale's fashion. I love their fashion so much and it's a SHAME you don't get to see all the layers. The song Aziraphale gets dressed to is "Everyday" by Buddy Holly, the almost-theme/opening

pic id below cut

[ID: An illustrated comic of Aziraphale getting dressed for the day. The first panel begins the montage with the angel wing mug full of hot coco and Crowley’s sunglasses on a table surround by books. Aziraphale is singing along to Buddy Holly’s, Every day. “Every day, it’s a-getting closer” plays as Aziraphale buttons up their pale blue dress shirt covering the tattoos on their arms, neck, and chest. “Going faster than a roller-coaster” frames close up shots of them linking their cuff links and putting a heart shaped earring on. “Love like yours will surely come my way” follows a frame of them locking their sock braces and buttoning embroidered suspenders/braces. The socks are tartan-patterned and they have visible leg hair. The embroidery features a snake, flaming sword and red flowers. The page ends with the lyrics “A-hey, a-hey-hey.”

The second page begins with a two panelled shot of Aziraphale tying their tartan-patterned bow-tie and then adjusting it while singing “Every day seems a little longer”. This is followed by a frame of buttoning up their waistcoat to the lyrics “Every way, love’s a little stronger.” The waistcoat is worn around the button, lower lapel, and bottom edge areas. The next frame has them pulled down the waistcoat in adjustment. There is double-albert chain and fob attached to the front. “Come what may” plays as they are now wearing their coat and is pulling it down. The song continues “Do you ever long for true love from me”.

The montage ends with a full body shot of Aziraphale fully dressed. They are mid motion of swaying to the music and turning around. Their neck tattoos are visible over the top of their collar. The lining of the jacket is a light jade eye and wing pattern. They stand with a mirror behind them illuminated by a halo with swords.There is a panel of a close up of a gramophone playing the song. The song continues “Every day, it’s a-getting closer, going faster than a roller-coaster, love like yours will surely come my way”. The next panel shows Aziraphale checking their pocket watch whilst directly singing “A-hey, a-hey-hey”. They continue to sing “Love like yours will surely come my way” but get interpreted half way by a car honk. Aziraphale then says “Oh! On the way down!” whilst moving out of frame. They are smiling.

The final page starts with Crowley outside, leaning against the Bentley. They are humming whilst playing on their phone. Their hair is shoulder length and in a half bun. Some of it spills over their face. Aziraphale greets them with “Hello, my dear” which causes them to look up in the second panel and lower their phone. The last panel fills the lower half of the page. Aziraphale is striding in from the left, hand outstretched. Their coat flows behind them exposing the lining. Crowley is leaning up against the car. Aziraphale and Crowley’s hands are gently grasping each other’s. Crowley says “Looking good, angel.” The comic ends. End ID]

#good omens #good omens fanart #good omens comic #ineffable partners #ineffable wives #Ineffable Husbands #Aziraphale #crowley #good omens zine #aziracrow #its stylish zine #av art #ami v art

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i-crochet-things · 11 months

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Karby Amigurumi Pattern

Pattern is available on Ravelry and on Etsy.

Playing with unusual shapes again. Not a pattern I would suggest to beginners - getting the car to look car-shaped is trickier than it seems.

I’ve realized I have patterns for two other mouthful mode items (lightbulb and traffic cone). Might just have to wrap Kirby around those too.

This is an icrochetthings original pattern © 2023. For personal use only. Do not copy, sell, alter, or distribute this pattern or parts of it. You may sell a limited number of your handmade finished items provided you credit icrochetthings as the designer.

Size: 3.5” tall, 4.5” long

Materials:

DK weight yarn in blue, light pink, medium pink, dark pink, orange, light gray, dark gray, black, white

C (2.75mm) crochet hook

B (2.25mm) crochet hook

Stuffing

Scissors

Yarn needle

Some knowledge of embroidery is needed to complete the pattern as shown. You should be familiar with the following technique(s):

Chain stitch

#crochet #crochet pattern #amigurumi #amigurumi pattern #handmade #plush #kirby #karby #mouthful mode

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c-rowlesdraws · 1 year

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Does Siwa have a personalized or customized suit in any way? I've always felt like the Volus suits (and to a lesser extend the quarian suits) that we see in game are a bit too 'one size fits all' to really represent all the options that would be available.

I wanted her to look similar to the other volus NPCs, like she could blend in with a crowd, so her suit isn't customized beyond some painted details, but she does accessorize! Her quarian friend Kesh'Vataar once gave her a Fleet-made belt made of woven cloth, the same kind of cloth quarians wear wrapped around their exosuits, as a present. It's an extremely meaningful gift and Siwa never leaves the airlock without it.

I think individual fashion choices in Mass Effect across species are for sure more complicated "in real life" than we saw in-game, where factors like budget and time and design priorities keep things like NPC fashion diversity low. I can imagine volus' approach to exosuit style being like how humans are with cars: most people choose from amongst affordable but fairly standard and unremarkable-looking models, some people drop heaps of credits on luxury designs and custom paintjobs for a more flashy and extravagant life-support experience, and some people get full-body wraps of anime characters.

For quarians, though, I can see them taking a different approach to decoration, because the context for their own exosuit usage is very different: the highly-industrialized volus, master navigators of the great currents of galactic commercial culture, mass-produce shiny new exosuits all the time (alongside a thriving secondhand market), but the quarians are a nomadic, isolated community with extremely limited material resources-- an exosuit that's completely newly-made, with no re-used parts at all, must be incredibly rare to nonexistent. In addition, a volus suit is a luxury purchase that the majority of the population never has a reason to go for, while each and every quarian must wear a suit for almost their entire life. I can imagine quarian suit style being all about combining used-and-reused components with newer ones in aesthetically-pleasing ways. Tarnished metal is polished mirror-bright around permanent dents and scratches, skillful stitching and artfully-draped wraps hide awkward seams.

Additionally, the quarians are (understandably) obsessed with holding onto their shattered history, and I can see their fashion reflecting that, too. Small family heirlooms made of gold and precious metals survive to be passed down because their cultural and personal value is greater than their material worth would be to the Fleet, were they melted down for use in electronics. Traditional patterns woven into cloth portray stylized forms of Rannochian ecology and natural features no living quarian has ever seen. I bet they're big on embroidery, too. But yeah, anyway, yes, I can see both the volus and the quarians having more diverse exosuit designs than shown in canon, but i think volus and quarian design sensibilities would also be distinct from each other in significant ways.

#mass effect meta #mass effect #quarian #quarians #volus #ask #catie talks #siwa rusk #kesh'vataar #my art

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willamesshop · 1 month

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#Embroidery Designs #Volkswagen Car Embroidery #Designs Volkswagen Beetle #Vehicle Embroidery Design #Beetle Bug Car #Instant Download #embroidery #embroidery pattern #embroidery design #machine embroidery #digital download #embroidery designs bundle #baby newborn onesie #cute embroidery #baby embroidery #etsy #etsyshop #etsyseller #etsystore

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antiquatedplumbobs · 10 months

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Christmas 1911

The holiday season at Sable Dairy was always a jolly, convivial time, with plenty of good food and fun to be had. Freddy's return from Britechester brought with it an increased energy and desire to make the most of the holiday.

The boys were tasked with finding and securing the perfect Christmas tree; selecting a fine fir from the small copse behind the farm. The assistance of a sledge was needed to drag it home, but once inside and garnished with a festive popcorn and cranberry garland it took up a dazzling countenance tucked up against the stair. The card table that usually sat there banished to the attic for the time being.

It would be a lie to say that none of the Sewells had a sweet tooth, and so a flurry of holiday baking was accomplished by both Violet and Elsie. Elsie, having recently discovered both a passion and talent for baking, had been allowed to build the annual gingerbread house unsupervised (with some assistance from Charlie). To Violet's delight, none of the pieces were broken, and only one had some small tooth marks that she was studiously ignoring.

A fine meal of roast ham, potatoes, vegetables, mince pies, and Christmas puddings was made by Violet. The family exclaimed that it was the best they had eaten yet; leftovers were scarce, despite the magnitude of the meal.

Under the tree, the collection of presents the family had gotten for one another was wrapped gaily in bright papers and festooned with ribbons. Will's present to Elsie was front and center; a wrapping job foregone due to the awkward shape and size. The small pram he had built, but the little mohair bear, the latest fad toy for young children, he had ordered himself from the Sims Roebuck Catalog, paying the fees with the money he had begun saving from the farm work and odd jobs he did. He had been right; the smile on her face had been completely worth it.

Violet received a teapot in a stylish new pattern. Charlie was gifted a wooden train set, each car hand carved by Will and the functional track built by Hamish. The bright paint job, with wheels that resembled the peppermint sweets Nathanial gave each of his grandchildren, was all by Violet's precise hand. Elsie received a new dress from her mother and father, with bright red embroidery and a snowy white collar; she donned it immediately. Hamish found a box of cigars under the tree with his name on them, but with a strict reminder from Violet not to smoke in the house. For Will, Hamish had purchased a sturdy and expansive tool kit, and for Freddy, a fine leather attaché to hold his school papers and a beautifully crafted fountain pen.

The day was long and filled with excitement and good times. The family perhaps stayed up later than they should, all except one that is. His father, once realizing his torpor, carried Charlie to his bed, where his dreams were full of trains made of gingerbread and passengers that bore striking resemblances to Christmas puddings.

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

next / previous / first

#its Christmas in july everyone!!#i swear one of these days my in game season will match up irl....#ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #ts4 legacy #ts4 storytelling #sims 4 legacy #sewell legacy #william sewell #frederick sewell #elizabeth sewell #charles sewell #hamish sewell #violet sewell #sewell 1910s

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puuta-heinaa · 3 months

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I’m curious how the joker out sweater is going (or went?), personally I was thinking about making one too but then remembered that I only know how to crochet and that would take a lifetime

Hey,

thanks for asking!

It's knit and blocked, took about 13 hours of active knitting in total. I've done duplicate stitches and embroidery on the first sun! I'll do the second sun with blue yarn, to see which one I like the best, as contrast with dark grey yarn is surprisingly harsh.

Also I might make the embroidered corona bigger. Even if it now follows the og lines, it looks slightly weird esp for those who do not know Joker Out. I might try dividing the ray sections with blue yarn first to see if it helps.

Oh there will be a pattern......soon.

eta: oh dear, I had forgot to resize the embroidery layer on my chart, so of course it looks like someone ran over it with a car. Experimenting with blue yarn tonight with another sun. Reminding myself I still have 4 suns to make it right before I have to undo stitches on the first one and that it is not the end of the world because it's easy to undo those stitches.

#joker out #joker out sweater

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vanillabeenflower · 1 year

Text

Made a bunch of Melcyn kids! Their colors are hard to combine since they’re both so different (cool and warm colors) but I think I did good

Emily is the #1 Sewing Fan and is 12. She likes doing things like embroidery, making hats and other accessories, and making sew-on patches for shirts.

Spice is the #2 Insect Fan (behind Norma ofc) and is 4. He has a spider onesie b/c he likes it, not b/c his parents were aware of his allotpun. He is 100% a fucking chaotic menace baby /lh

Cyn Jr. is the #1 Borse Fan and is 17. He is a cynical borse boy. He is named Cyn Jr. b/c he looks the most like Cyn Sr. out of all of them, save for the traits from Mel (his heterochromia, leg and arm sock patterns, and his muzzle)

Finn is the #1 Sticker Fan and is actually 19. He is very accident prone and has terrible luck with driving and almost always gets into minor accidents with the family car. It’s like a curse (like Fred/Car Crash from Epithet Erased). I tried to make his design more jumbled and mismatched to play more into the messiness of his appearance, other than just the stray strands of fur

This is Finn and Cyn Jr. in a nutshell

#stuff i made #sparklecare hospital #Sparklecare #cometcare #cometcare au #long post

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julek · 2 years

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mortician au meet-cute. (is it a meet-cute?). read the series on ao3!

Geralt is giving Renfri some nice neck scratches when Aiden comes in through the door, the little bell above it giving a nice little chime.

“Morning,” he says cheerfully, dropping a crisp newspaper on Geralt’s kitchen table and making a beeline for the old moka pot, stainless steel glinting in the grey morning light coming through the window. Geralt still wonders when it was, exactly, that Aiden became a permanent fixture in the Morhen house.

Probably around the time Lambert started messing around with spells, rites, and harmless, bloodless sacrifices.

Probably.

“Morning,” he answers, his voice still a bit rough with disuse. “Please, help yourself to some coffee,” he says, eyebrows raised, as Aiden begins pouring himself a second cup.

“Got anyone in today?” He wonders, nodding to the dark green door that leads to the mortuary downstairs. “The paper says there’s been a car crash.”

Geralt shakes his head. “No one in yet. But I’m sure they’ll start coming soon.”

Aiden nods sympathetically. This is why Geralt likes him, he’s reminded — anyone else would shudder at the dark yet accurate prediction, but he simply shrugs and begins snooping around Geralt’s kitchen, as he often does, lifting pot lids and making spoons clatter against the marble tabletop.

“Lambert is in The Room,” he says gently, mentally nudging Aiden out of his kitchen and into his brother’s embalming room, affectionately and ominously nicknamed The Room. “If you were looking for him.”

“Oh.” Aiden deposits his mug into the sink, frowning slightly at it, and then looks at Geralt in belated recognition. “Yes! That’s why I came in, in the first place, of course. Thank you for the coffee.”

Geralt shakes his head at his retreating figure. “No problem.” The newspaper is still sitting on his table, and he turns back to Renfri, who’s looking up at him with curiosity painted on her green eyes. “Looks like we’ll have some work to do today, hmm?”

His apron, a sensible black, stares back at him from where it’s hanging on its little hook. The tiny and slightly crooked Morhen Mortuary embroidery at the front — Nenneke’s gift for who knows which birthday — makes Geralt smile, and he’s still smiling as he walks the stairs down to his own room.

The car crash Aiden had noted had unfortunately taken the life of a young man, according to the paper and the EMTs who had driven the body to the funeral home. The man, they had explained, had been riding on his bike downtown when a truck appeared out of nowhere and made it impossible for him to avoid crashing into the left headlight.

It had been a painless death, they said. Geralt could only hope so, for the victim’s sake.

The light switch creaks slightly as he flips it on, the fluorescent bulbs flickering to life above him. Immediately, the strong scent of embalming fluid envelops him, and he breathes it in like one would a nice spring morning on a field. Nothing like a work-laden morning to bring his spirits up.

(Or sideways, he doesn’t know). (He’s been learning some interesting things with Lambert’s new hobby). (Half of those are lies, he knows, but still).

(It’s nice to pretend).

The body on the table looks… rough. Whatever remains from the man’s clothing is rumpled and dirty, the fabric tattered and covering his body in uneven patterns. There are bruises all over his right side — his legs, his abdomen, up his neck and littering his face like a child’s painting. His handsome features are obscured by the blood trickling down his forehead.

He couldn’t have survived the crash, Geralt knows, but he has to check for vital signs anyway. He has no pulse, nothing but cold skin where Geralt presses his gloved fingers, and later, his stethoscope. His limbs are stiff and locked in place, and he’s unresponsive as Geralt touches his face, his eyes — incredibly blue — clouded.

The perfect picture of death.

Sometimes Geralt wishes he believed in God. Any God, really — anything that could allow him to say a small prayer, to wish this person well in their path to… wherever they’re going, to honor their life and make it all mean something.

But he doesn’t, so, naturally, he starts a conversation with the dead man lying on his table.

“Hello,” he says politely, as he starts removing the man’s scraps of clothing from his skin. “My name is Geralt. I’m your mortician— well, I mean, I’m not your mortician. I’m… anyone’s. No one’s. It’s not like when you go to the doctor, you know— oh, yeah, that guy is my doctor. You can’t tell anyone about this experience, so I’m never referred to as anyone’s anything.” He tosses the man’s shirt aside. “But, you know, in case you do recall this to anyone, in the ol’ queue to the afterlife, you can call me your mortician. Or Geralt. Geralt’s fine.”

The man, unsurprisingly, says nothing.

“I’m sorry I don’t know your name,” Geralt continues. “You came in without any personal effects— well, you were wearing that tiny Hello Kitty backpack, but there was nothing inside that could tell us anything about you.” The man’s jeans need to go next, but they’re so disfigured Geralt grabs a fabric scissor from the counter. “You kind of look like your name was… hmm. Nothing too generic, I don’t think. Balthazar, maybe? Or Timothy. Valdo, perhaps? That’s a name you have the face for. The eyes, especially.”

He starts cutting the man’s jeans, pausing to chuckle at the fact that he momentarily gave the man jorts, and then continues until he can peel it all off.

“Your clothes are nice. I’m sorry they got ripped apart, though. And, well, sorry I’m ripping them apart now, too.” He starts untying the man’s shoelaces. “I hope you get some nice clothing wherever you’re going. Do you think you’ll need money in the afterlife?”

The man’s hand falls to the table in response.

Before, Geralt would’ve jumped at the movement, but now, seasoned as he has become, he knows it’s just a spasm. His heart hasn’t gotten the memo yet, though, hammering in his chest.

“Ah, love a good postmortem spasm,” he chuckles, sliding the shoe off the man’s foot. “Keeps me vigilant. Did you know people used to think these kinds of movements indicated the deceased person’s will to live? They used to say it was a sign of perseverance— how the strongest people kept fighting death until the end.”

He likes to think there’s some truth to it; that someone could have loved their life so much that they would hang on to it with every fiber of their being. That death could be defied by stubbornness.

He pulls out the man’s other shoe, and smiles at his socks: ice cream patterned, glittery bright pink.

“You seem like an interesting person,” he says, peeling the socks off, leaving the man in his — also brightly patterned — underwear. “Would have been nice to meet you.”

Geralt turns around and moves to the counter, making sure the hose is connected to the water tap, and arranging all his instruments to his liking. He can hear the music Lambert’s playing in The Room, some sort of old-timey rock he knows but can’t quite place, and he starts humming along in his low, gravelly tone.

“Mm, you got me so I can’t sleep at night, mmm…”

“The Kinks? Really?”

Geralt turns around, clutching the hose to his chest.

“I mean,” the man says, facing Geralt and laying on his side like a really stiff art subject, waiting to be immortalized in a canvas, “I would’ve expected a man of your complexion to listen to something… darker. Tougher? I don’t know.”

Geralt blinks.

He really should have checked the carbon monoxide detectors last night.

“So,” the man says. “What kind of a place is this, anyway? Don’t get me wrong, I do, quite often, wake up half-naked in places I can’t recognize, but this is a new level of kinky shit. What is this table?” He props himself up on his hands, with effort. “Why are my movements so… bad?” He frowns. “Why’s my tongue… wrong? What is going on?”

“You’re… alive,” Geralt says, eloquently.

The man’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, and he’s still so pale and mangled, it’s grotesque. Like a really bad makeup job for a school play. “Well, I mean, I know that? Because if this is heaven — and I’m definitely not complaining about the view — it’s quite… underwhelming?”

Almost automatically, Geralt surges forward and grabs the man’s head between his hands. “Don’t move like that,” he says, smoothing down the man’s skin. “The rigor mortis won’t go away for a few hours. You could get stuck like that.”

The man’s face falls. Well, tries to. “Rigor… mortis?”

Geralt drops the man’s head like it’s on fire. It should be on fire — the man’s skin should melt into bone and he should put on a funky leather jacket and ride his black motorcycle straight into hell and out of Geralt’s humble and sensible funeral home.

Upstairs, an old Dire Straits song starts playing. As if the world is supposed to just go on, while the very dead man that was laying on Geralt’s embalming table mere seconds ago is now making something akin to lively conversation with him.

He was dead. Geralt checked his pulse, looked into his very dead-looking pupils. He was about to inject fluid into his arteries, for goodness’ sake.

“So,” the man says, sitting up, and finally looking down at himself. He pokes at a purple bruise on his ribs. “Either this is all part of a very elaborate joke on one of my friends’ behalf, or you’re just a very good-looking psychopath who will now proceed to make me witness my own autopsy, or something.”

“I’m…” Suddenly, Geralt has no clue what to say. How does he break it to the man, that he was about to write down ‘John Doe’ on a nametag and tie it to his ankle, without sounding absolutely insane and/or possibly psychopathic? He feels a sudden urge to take off his apron, not feeling so fond of the embroidered information on it right now. “You were in an accident.”

The man gapes at him, his blue eyes bluer, somehow. “I… was? What happened?”

Geralt takes a tentative step forward. He was trained on how to deliver painful and sensitive information to the bereaved family; he was not, however, trained on how to deliver it to the deceased themselves.

“The EMTs said it was a truck. You were riding your bike.”

“Okay…” The man nods to himself, taking the information in. “Why am I not in a hospital, then? I mean— I don’t mean to assume, but this doesn’t really look like the conventional emergency room, or what have you.”

Geralt looks around the dark walls of the basement, cringing internally at the framed You look good — open-casket good sign Eskel got him for Christmas.

“You’re… This is…” Geralt leans back against the counter, steeling himself for whatever will happen next. “This is a mortuary. My name’s Geralt. I’m… I’m your mortician.”

The man’s eyes are so wide Geralt fears he’ll pop a vein. “A mortician…”

“You died,” Geralt says gently. “When you crashed into the truck. It was a painless death. Instant.”

“And now?”

Geralt grimaces. “And now… you’re alive. Allegedly.”

The man splutters. “Allegedly?!” He hops down from the table, and Geralt manages to catch him before his legs give out. “You mean to tell me I was dead and now, supposedly, I’m alive?”

This close to the man, Geralt can see small green dots in all that sea of blue fury. He shakes his head. “Yes. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do. This doesn’t happen.”

“You don’t say!” The man sits back up on the table. His bruises are slowly fading away, and his cheeks are bright red, whether from the blood flow or the indignation, Geralt doesn’t know. “So it’s not routine for a legally dead man to come back to life on your table? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“I’m sorry,” Geralt says, sheepish. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, aside the whole hey Jask, remember everything you thought you knew about life and death? Well, scrape all that, because it’s bullshit thing? I’m just peachy,” he snaps, glowering at Geralt. “And cold.”

“Of course. Sorry,” Geralt apologizes. “I’ll go get you some clothes.”

“You do that,” the man says as Geralt walks to the door. “And do stop apologizing so much.”

His hand on the door, Geralt looks back at the man. “Sorry.”

“So, your name is Jaskier?”

They’re sitting at Geralt’s kitchen table now. After offering the man a pair of Lambert’s sweatpants and a t-shirt, and showing him the guest bathroom, he emerged a new person, his hair curling at the edges and his skin soft-looking.

“It is,” Jaskier says with a shy smile, pulling his knees up to his chest on his chair. Geralt feels an immense urge to wrap him in a hug. The closest thing is pushing a mug of coffee in his direction. “And you’re Geralt.”

“That’s me.”

“And I was dead,” Jaskier says, recounting the incidents. He’s calmed down now. “And now I’m alive.”

“Yeah.”

Geralt wishes he had something more eloquent to say.

“And this has never happened to you before? You’re certain?”

Geralt snorts. “I think I would have realized if any of the people I poked at with needles were alive.”

“Okay, okay,” Jaskier replies with a smile of his own. “Just checking.”

Now that Jaskier is officially alive, Geralt can allow himself to really look at him. He’s young — maybe in his late twenties — and there’s something about his eyes that just draws him in; something other than the way they’re blue the way the ocean is when it’s about to storm, no, it’s something about the way they move. About the way they look at things, about the way they look at Geralt. Piercing yet unobtrusive, harsh yet soft.

He should really stop watching so many romantic films.

His brown hair falls into tiny waves, shining in the mid-morning light pouring in through the windows. The hand that’s gripping the mug is dotted with freckles, his fingernails black and chipped. He’s swimming in Geralt’s shirt, an old one from his university days, and there’s something about his small smile that makes Geralt’s heart try to skip a beat.

They sip their coffee in comfortable silence. Geralt offers him an apple, and Jaskier takes it with grace.

“So, what now?” He asks between bites.

“What do you mean?” Geralt replies.

“Well,” Jaskier says, leaning forward on the table. “I can’t die. For now. I’ll sort out the specifics later. But— what comes next?”

Geralt doesn’t know. “Well, what do you want to do next?”

Jaskier considers it. “I think, after I finish eating this apple, and after I’ve washed my cup and thanked you for your hospitality — ha, hospitality,” he snorts, “I would very much like to ask you for your number.”

Geralt chokes on his coffee.

“Unless you’re already seeing someone, or you’re not into men,” Jaskier says immediately, “or just not into someone who came into your home as a dead man and came out walking of his own volition. Also because you kind of saw me in my rubber ducks underwear which I love but man I should really think about what I wear under my clothes because you know, my mother was right, you really never do know where your day will go— I would completely understand that. That would make you a very reasonable person, but it’s just that I’m very scared for my life— and my death, I guess, too, fuck— and I would like a friendly face around me. I can tell you I have not had any of those lately— but, just, you know, I understand if—”

“Jaskier,” Geralt says. “I would be honored to be a friendly face.”

Jaskier breathes out slowly. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem,” Geralt says, reaching for his hand.

Jaskier twines their fingers together, looking at him with a sweet smile on his lips. It belongs to one of Geralt’s movies, this moment.

But Jaskier breaks it almost immediately.

“Actually, you know, I’m glad you said yes, because you kind of owe me, anyway, because some memories are coming back to me now and I have the distinct recollection of you telling me I looked like my name was Valdo, and boy do I hate—”

tagged: @writingmysanity

#mywriting #mortuary au #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #temporary MCD #immortal jaskier #mortician geralt #pls enjoy geralt being a DORK <3 #blood mention #death mention

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that-one-random-writer · 1 year

Text

City Of Love Part 1 [complete]

Kind of an AU drabble multi part words: 1,037

Summary: You are a famous fashion designer, Jake is an actor. You style Jake for a photoshoot for his cover on Vogue magazine. It set you up for a night in Paris.

Warnings: 18+ for language and NSFW content, smoking a cigarette.

A/N: I am feeling writers block in my current story, Caution to the Wayward Son. I wanted to write something that might trigger some brain activity.

My Masterlist. Part 2

Your skin had the ultimate comfort of the white, down duvet. The crisp pillows held your head in a perfect mold. You lifted your head, and your feet fell flat against the smooth hardwood floor as you turned. You stood up and slipped your arms in your robe. Your body is embellished with black lacy lingerie with a mesh robe lined with fur.

You glide through the airy room. You stop in front of the glass doors to your balcony. Your assistant, Naviair, opened the door for you, and you stepped onto the balcony. Naviair handed you your morning coffee. You sat with a cigarette in your hand and lit the end, puffing smoke into open air above the streets of Paris.

Your assistant joined you on the balcony once your cigarette was out. He sat at the table beside you. He pulled out your schedule book. "Navi dear, why must our lives be so busy? Can't we just take a day?" You tossed your head back, wishing away your busy schedule.

"Darling, you know you run important roles in this industry. You are an elite designer. You can't just run willy nilly across the city." You pulled your knees up, watching the busy streets. Your mind frolicking in the city.

"Commençons" 'let's begin' he spoke in his native tongue. You nodded, and he began your schedule. "Hair and make up will be here in an hour. You have to get ready for a shoot for Vogue. You will be preparing the designs you created for the cover." His hands were thrown into the air dramatically. "Jake's Rise To The Top"

You lean back into the chair. "The one with the hot actor?" You gasp, Naviair looking you up and down. "Yes, and if you show up like that, I think he might be a little too excited to fit the pants. Now let's go, you have an outfit to style for yourself." He offered his hand to help you stand. You lifted with grace from your seat.

Naviair led you into the closet. "What shall I go for today? Maybe Versace? Louis Vuitton?"

You choose a white top with gold embroidery. It has a strong angled shoulder line that cuts into the skin on your shoulder, and your back is bare as a statement. The bottom is high waisted pants with black and gold. Your waist is cinched with a black wide belt. White and gold red bottom heels with a black pair of sunglasses.

"Good choice. So chic. Hair and make-up are here." Naviair takes your hand.

You lean into the stylist chair. The cold leather tensing your skin. Two stylists begin working.

"So we are thinking some dark, with a little gold and a bright red lip." The makeup artist prepped your skin. "Yes, please use the new color that Navi picked up a few days ago."

"For Hair, I'm thinking curls for femininity to peak through. Contrasting with the masculinity in the pants." You nodded, agreeing. "I couldn't agree more." You allow them time to work.

You emerge from the chair once they are complete with their art. Your feet clacking against the wooden floors. You grab your folder for the styles for today's shoot. Thanking the pair while leaving the room.

The car rides past the busy city and stops at the studio. Your chauffeur opens the door. Flashes blare through your dark tinted lenses. Naviair held your hand, helping you up the stairs avoiding the paparazzi.

"Bonjour, right this way." The attendant led you to the back. The attendant knocked in a pattern, the doors slid open. You move to the center of the room elegantly. "Oh, tres belle" 'very beautiful' "Please come, we have the sets you ordered right here." Your head of correspondence called to you. You lifted your glasses from your view, pulling out the articles of clothing.

You followed into the room where Jake was taking practice shots. "Jake, is it?"

Jake's eyes left the camera lens and met with a beautiful woman. "Yes, ma'am."

Jake's voice was rough in all the right way. "I'm ready for you now." Jake stepped down. Following behind you. You both step into the dressing room. You hand him the clothing. "Oh, um, thank you..." He trailed. He expected you to leave the room, but he was in france. Once you turned to the mirror glancing over your makeup, he decided you weren't leaving, kicking off his shoes, and he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. His strong shoulder peeked through the top. He slid the top off his arms, tossing the shirt over the chair. His pants unbuttoned and slipped down his toned legs. He paired the shirt and pants together over the chair. He grabbed the new outfit and turned around the pants gliding over his legs. You turned admiring his muscled back. "What are you thinking?" His gaze caught yours in the mirror in front of him.

"Nothing safe for work, I assure you." Your cheeks threatened color under your makeup. "I won't tell anyone..." His rough tone teased. He turned facing you. "Maybe another time?" His arms slid through the shirt. You stepped closer to him and slowly buttoned the shirt. Your hands wrapped into his collar, positioning the corners and creases.

His calloused hands gripped your soft touch. "Dinner tonight?" His confidence lured your eyes to his.

"I have to check my schedule, but I would love to." Your face just inches from his. He handed you a card. "My personal number is on the back. Call me when you decide." He slipped on his shoes and made it back to the shoot.

"Naviair..." You called out for your assistant. "Yes, amour?" Love. He spoke out from the hallway. "What is my schedule for tonight?" He opened the schedule book. "You have a meeting with Pierre." You spun on your heels and walked out from the dressing room. "Can you reschedule?"

He smirked. "And what should I tell him?"

You looked him up and down mimicking his smirk. "Something has come up. He will understand. Now come Navi. I have something to get ready for. My work here is done." You look back at the photoshoot, Jake is pushing his hair back with his hands holding his jacket over his shoulder.

Naviair commented, "Chef's kiss, he looks incredible. You've done it again." You both made your way out the door. "Was there ever any doubt?" Your looks of showed pride.

I do not give permission for my stories to be posted anywhere. Stealing stories makes you a c u next tuesday.

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