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freelancearsonist · 2 months

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Parts and Labor

➔ Eddie Munson x fem!Reader - 5k

➔ Eddie’s van is practically falling apart, but he doesn’t have the heart to replace it. Luckily for him, you’re willing to put in the effort to fix it—as long as he helps.

➔ Rated MA for unprotected p in v sex (don’t do this irl pls), oral (f receiving), heavy petting, creampie, fingering, cumplay, Eddie has scars and lies about where he got them, reader has female anatomy and uses fem pronouns, reader is a mechanic [please let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

“SHIT, FUCK!”

Eddie slams down the hood of his van, kicks the front tire as hard as he can, then winces–both at the sudden pain in his foot and at the overreaction.

“Come on baby, please,” he pleads futilely to the unresponsive engine. “I’ll give you anything, just start.”

The engine, apparently, won’t be seduced.

Eddie digs through the pocket of his low-slung jeans, finds a dime somewhere in the pile of gum wrappers and old receipts, and runs to stick the coin into the nearest payphone booth.

The garage answers on the last ring, and Eddie doesn’t even have to identify himself. They’re almost as familiar with his junker van as he is himself. They’ve wrung more money out of him for repairs than the damned thing is worth, and Eddie knows it. He knows the vehicle is on its deathbed–repeatedly resuscitated at this point–and that he should just replace it. But he can’t. Beyond fear of hurting its feelings, he’s become attached to it. He’s made memories in that stupid van. To him, replacing his ride would be like wading a huge portion of his life up and throwing it in the trash. He just won’t do it.

The garage is merciful enough to give him a ride there along with towing his poor, lifeless van. He’s not eager to spend a day in the waiting room sipping lukewarm black coffee, but he needs to be there for her. His lady is dying–waiting for news from her doctors is the least he can do.

He forgets all about his lady when you walk through the door.

You’re the Porche 944 of women. He’s never seen anything or anyone quite as breathtaking as you–with the small grease smudge on your cheek, your hair pulled back so sloppily that half of it is already fallen down, and your denim overalls unclipped on one side to show off the faded Iron Maiden t-shirt you wear underneath. You’re wiping your hands on a grease rag as you approach him and Eddie just stands in dumbfounded silence. Who are you and where have you been his entire life?

“Munson,” you greet with a slight smile.

He almost chokes. You know his name? He knows he’s never seen you before in his life–you’re the kind of girl he could never forget. Especially with how much time he’s had to spend here.

“Having trouble getting her to start?” you continue without missing a beat. Eddie doesn’t miss the way you refer to his van, and it makes him impossibly more hooked. “Seems to be a bad ignition coil. Easy enough to fix, except your crankshaft is rusted to shit and I’m honestly surprised the whole engine hasn’t fallen apart when you hit a bump or something. Seriously, it’s dangerous to drive at this point.”

Eddie hears you, but he doesn’t comprehend a single word you’re saying. He’s hyper-fixated on the way your lips form around your words, on how you’re speaking mechanics and you actually understand what you’re saying. He’s never met anyone like you.

“But you can fix her, right?”

You smile, and he feels his heart skip a beat. “Honestly? My professional advice is to just sell it for scrap and buy a new car.”

It’s like a smack to the face. He has to blink the shock out of his eyes while you stand there so simply, like you didn’t just tell him to kill his darling.

”What’s your unprofessional advice?”

You bite your lip, busy your hands with a grease cloth. “I could fix it. But it’ll take some time, and it’ll be expensive as hell. It would honestly be cheaper to buy new.”

”I’ll pay for the fix,” he says firmly before he can consider what he’s really agreeing to. “I can’t just replace her.”

Your smile is softer when you look back up at him. “I really admire that.”

Those words shouldn’t have as much of an effect on him as they do.

”I can do the job, but not here. There’s no way my boss would let me take up a lift for as long as I need to actually do a good job, and I don’t believe in doing mediocre work. But I’ve got enough equipment at my place if you trust me?”

You’re not only saving his lady, you’re promising not to screw him like so many people have before. He’s thinking about proposing, but he keeps his cool long enough to say, “yeah. Yeah, I trust you.”

”How much do you know about cars?”

He notices a strand of hair that’s fallen down into your face, and it takes all his restraint to keep himself from pushing it behind your ear for you.

”I know enough,” he says with a modest shrug.

Your eyes shine with something that he can’t identify as you gaze up at him. “Well, if you wanna help me, I’ll only charge you for parts.”

Eddie doesn’t even need to consider. A chance to spend more time with you, and a discount on repairs? “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great.”

The first night he comes over, it’s the sticky hot of a midsummer Indiana evening. He’s in low-slung faded jeans and a baggy white tank top that shows more of his chest than should be legal. There’s so much lightly tanned skin on display that you can’t decide where to focus—much less consider the engine you’re supposed to be working on. You can’t help asking about each little spot of ink you see on his skin, curious to learn even the smallest nuisances of his personality.

He’s the most interesting person you’ve met in this podunk town since your move to Hawkins from Indianapolis. He’s goofy and aloof, charming yet awkward. He’s so gentle and sweet you can practically smell the saccharine of his words as he speaks. He’s an animated speaker—so passionate about everything he does that he puts his whole body into it. There’s a refreshing energy to him that recharges your social battery as he goes, rather than draining it like everyone else does.

By the second night of working on Eddie’s van with him, you’re close enough to call him a friend. You know what seems like every small detail about him—his favorite color, the story behind the small scar on his left knee.

By the third night, you’re fighting every instinct in your brain to keep from throwing him inside said van and having your way with him.

Especially when you deliver to him a cold glass of iced tea and he drinks it in the sluttiest possible way he can—big gulps that send the condensation on the outside of the glass spilling down his chin to leave little paths of wetness down his neck and chest. It’s like full-on torture.

On the fourth night, you’ve had the engine block completely disassembled and ready for the new crankshaft for a couple days. It’s hard for Eddie to see his baby gutted and torn apart this way, but he knows you’ve got the most capable hands of any mechanic he’s ever known. There’s a delicacy and attention to detail in your craft that he’s never seen before, and he’s enraptured with watching you work. He’s even more enraptured by the sticky glistening of your skin in the red-orange light of sunset every night.

There’s really no reason for him to keep meeting you every single evening—all you’re doing at this point is busywork cleaning various parts because the real work can’t be done until the new parts arrive. Both of you know it, too—but neither of you will admit it. You’ve both come to look forward to these few hours together, comfortable even though you’re both sweaty, sticky, and greasy. Suspending them at this point would be a crime.

There’s just the faintest peek of reddish light left over the horizon when the conversation lulls, but Eddie’s not ready to go quite yet. “You hear Megadeth’s touring in Indy this fall?”

”No shit?”

”No shit. Tickets are probably going fast.”

”We should get some,” you say with a cautious glance over at him. This is it—this is as grand of an invitation as you can work up the courage to make. If he can’t take the bait here, you’ll be forever casting lingering glances and praying he’ll make a more substantial move than just eyeing you up and down like you’re the finest, purest water in a parched desert.

Eddie’s heart rate skyrockets even as he’s willing himself not to read too far into your words. ”Yeah? You’d… wanna go with me?”

”Might be nice. To hang out and do something other than pretend to work on your car.”

”All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” he says with a look that’s far too smug for his own good on his face.

Even though it’s a little ridiculous, his cockiness flusters you. ”Wasn’t sure you’d want to.”

”How could I not? I’ve got the girl of my dreams five feet away from me, I’d be crazy to not want to spend every second I can get with her.”

”Oh, is there someone else here?” You try to giggle and make it sound like a lighthearted joke, but it comes out far more flustered than you mean for it to.

”No. Just you.” It’s only three words, yet you’ve never heard anything more fraught with tension in your life. It’s in his dark eyes, in the set of his jaw, in the way his hands clench into fists at his side to keep from reaching for you.

All your eyes can manage to do is trace up the prominent veins in his forearms from his white-knuckled fists. If you meet his eyes, you know your resolve will disappear faster than a delicate snowflake on warm skin.

But he takes a step closer to you, and it’s too late before you can even consider stopping yourself.

His dark eyes are swirling with lust. There’s no mistaking it, no other label for it. It looks animalistic, almost dangerous. He looks like he wants to devour you whole, and you want nothing more than to find out if he will.

”You, umm… need a refill?” You gesture with your eyes to the now empty glass in his hand, then nod toward the house. It’s all the invitation he needs.

The second the door clicks shut behind you, Eddie’s hands are on you. They start on your waist, effectively pinning you against the closed door and using you as an anchor to press himself as close to you as he can.

It’s eager and rushed, even a little sloppy. He kisses wet, he kisses deep. It’s like he’s trying to suck the air straight from your lungs, and you let him. Nothing has ever felt so good before.

“Christ,” he mumbles as his hot lips work their way down your neck. “Been wanting to do this for days.”

There’s a slight tremble in your hands as your fingers work their way into his curls, already nearly overwhelmed with the sensation of his mouth on your overheated skin. “Why didn’t you?”

”Didn’t wanna scare you off,” he confesses. It’s so endearing it pulls a moan from your lips.

“There’s not a lot you could do to scare me off, Eddie.” You mean it; you try to prove it by tugging him closer and slotting him between your legs. You can feel his pent up desire, hard and thick, as it presses against your core through his jeans. The feeling alone makes you ache with desire. It’s like a wave sweeps through you, cascading from head to toe and making everything in its wake prickle with unbearable want. You are molten flame, and he is the only thing that can douse your heat.

No one’s ever had such an astronomical effect on you from doing so little.

Eddie isn’t faring much better. He walks in a fog, blinded by clouding desire—especially so when your leg hitches up and around his hip to tug him harder against you. It’s like his cruise control is set, speed regulating with every incline or downward tilt—adjusting every little movement and touch to draw more breathless moans and whimpers from your parted lips.

A slight tug to his hair snaps him back into his own body, drawing a sudden clarity on the situation. He’s no longer an outsider looking in, as if an astral projection watching and criticizing his every move. Eddie is fully present and hyper-focused on one thing: making sure no other person can ever properly satisfy you again.

”You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs over and over into your skin as he traces kisses over your exposed neck and shoulders. His fingers hook into the strap of your tank top and slide it out of place, making way for a series of open-mouthed kisses as he ensures that not an inch of your skin is neglected.

You keen at his praise and reward him with a gentle tug to his messy curls. “So are you.”

He prickles with affection at your compliment, his cheeks warming in a way that feels completely foreign to him. No one’s ever called him beautiful before—he’s really never thought it could even be applicable to him—but he feels like he could get used to it.

He asks so nicely to take your top off and you give him permission without hesitation. You can see the flash of want in his eyes as he takes in your mostly naked torso, gaze skirting around the boundary of your bra as if he’s too shy to ask again for permission to remove a garment.

You decide to put on a little show as you give him what he wants; you unhook your bra and slide the straps down your arms so achingly slowly he thinks he might combust. And then finally, gloriously, you let the fabric fall to the floor and Eddie gets his first look at your bare chest.

He gapes, open-mouthed, for longer than is frankly comfortable—to the point you’re almost about to cover yourself up again.

And then he says, “Permission to do something highly inappropriate and maybe even a little degrading?”

”Uhh… sure?”

In a flash he’s buried face first in your sternum, hands coming to cup your breasts and dramatically smother himself in your cleavage. He lets out a pleasured groan as you giggle, deft fingers lightly tugging and pinching the sensitive peaks of your nipples. He prickles with pride at the breathy gasp you emit when his mouth starts working—he turns his head to suck one hard mound between his lips and keeps up the pressure with his fingers on the other.

”Sh-shit…” you sigh and slump into his attention, arms hanging like limp ribbons by your sides. “Eddie…”

”Love the way you say my name,” he practically purrs. “So fucking pretty.”

He switches sides now, firmly dragging the flat of his tongue over your nipple before sealing his lips around it and sucking. The pure pressure of it makes you cry out, fingers tugging harshly at his curls.

”Jesus, that feels amazing,” you whine. It’s so good, but it’s not nearly enough at the same time. And it’s like he can sense it—like he’s got some kind of a psychic connection with your body. He adapts immediately to what you need, dropping to his knees to unbutton your jean shorts and deftly slip them down and off your legs. He smooths his palms against your bare thighs and lets you feel the cold kiss of his metal rings against the burning flesh there, all the while looking up at you with dark eyes that you can’t quite identify. There’s lust, sure, but something else in those chocolate orbs. Something akin to adoration—like he’s on his knees preparing to worship you.

”Can I?” Those long, thick fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear and you’re nodding before he’s even finished asking.

You wish you could put the sound he lets out once he finally has you bare on vinyl to repeat over and over again. It’s somewhere between a growl and a whimper, completely heady with desire and want; need, even. The fact that he needs you like this is so overwhelming and flattering that you can barely process it. You don’t have time to, because in a moment his lips are wrapping themselves around your clit and sucking. He goes straight past gentle and into pure pressure just like he did with your nipples; as above, so below. And it’s bliss—thigh-quaking, breath-hitching, earth-shattering bliss.

All you can manage to do is scrabble for purchase against the wall his hands have you pinned to. You have to sound absolutely pathetic, but you can’t be bothered to care because you’re precariously close to coming and it’s only been a matter of minutes.

He moans, like he’s tasting the finest, most expensive and decadent cuisine he’s ever had. The sound vibrates against your pussy and travels up your spine all the way to your brain—it nests there and makes it’s home, drives you into a fuzzy state of ecstasy. And all the while that luxurious tongue is hard at work, alternating between lapping thirstily at your entrance and fluttering against your clit in a way that causes every muscle in your abdomen to contract.

Nothing should be able to feel this good—it’s so desperately close to overwhelming. Simultaneously, you would rather die than lose this feeling is it crescendos to a fever pitch.

”Let go,” he murmurs against you, and you know he’s not talking about your grip on his hair. “It’s okay. I gotcha, let go f’me.”

You’ve never fancied yourself to be the obedient type per se, but apparently your body is feeling particularly traitorous today. It takes all of three more seconds before you’re doing exactly what he said—legs trembling with the burden of your weight as you crash and burn on his tongue. You whine and beg and plead, all of it meaningless babble as he works you over and through your pleasure with that wonderful, amazing, perfect mouth of his.

You don’t even process you’re collapsing, but thankfully Eddie does and catches you with ease. There’s a cocky chuckle in his throat as he lays you down on the floor, and you would smack him for it if he hadn’t earned it. Instead, you grab him by the collar of his shirt a little rougher than mean to and drag him to your mouth, relishing in the high-pitched whine he admits at your light manhandling.

You moan at the taste of yourself on his lips, and Eddie can’t help grinding himself hard against your thigh in an attempt to relieve the pressure of his untouched arousal. This kiss is nasty—wet, gnashing, desperate. There’s no control to it on either end.

”That good, huh?” He mutters into your mouth. His voice is barely more than a whisper—you can’t expect much more when you’re kissing him the way you are, grinding your thigh against his aching cock all the while. And even still, despite his obvious desperation, he manages to be cocky about how hard he made you come.

If you weren’t head over heels for this man before, you certainly are now.

You start tugging at his belt and he chuckles, only growing more sure of himself by the second.

”Wait, baby, lemme take you to bed,” he huffs over the feeling of your hand finally sliding into his jeans where he needs you most.

It makes you gasp when you finally have him in the palm of your hand. As big as he felt through his jeans, nothing could’ve prepared you for this. He’s heavy, achingly thick, and you can feel the way he positively throbs in your grip.

And just as you’re about to agree and show him to your bedroom, you shake your head firmly; because as uncomfortable as this floor is going to feel and as much as your back is going to hate you for it later, you need him now. There’s no time for relocating; if he doesn’t give it to you right now, here in the middle of your living room floor, you think you might perish.

”Right here?” He hums as if he’s not affected at all while he slots himself between your legs. “On the floor? Can’t even wait thirty seconds to let me have you the right way? Dirty girl.”

It’s such a shift in dynamic; not an unwelcome one at all, certainly. But he’s been so shy and timid up until this point—always following your lead, blushing when his hand brushes against yours. You wonder if he’s like this with everyone—if he feels some pressure to perform an act or role, to hide his true personality.

The thought makes your chest ache a little bit, but you don’t have time to dwell on it because he’s breaking you in half. He’s so slow about it, too; barely pressing his tip into you, giving you time to adjust to every millimeter he gives you. Even still it punches the breath out of your lungs and makes your eyelids flutter at the intrusion.

”Shit.” It’s not spoken so much as whined, and suddenly you’re starkly aware of just how much you’re affecting him. You bite your lip to steady yourself so you can look up at him, and the sight alone is almost enough to unravel you. Unruly curls spill down over his shoulder and dangle in the air over you. His mouth hangs open—fast, shallow breaths make his bottom lip quiver. His pupils are so blown with desire you can barely see the warm chocolatey color of his irises.

You’re suddenly aware that in your desperation, you forgot a very important step. He’s still fully clothed—your legs rub against his t-shirt as his hands hook under your knees to spread you wider for him. You almost feel bad about it; in your haze of arousal his attention to your body has brought on, you’ve forgotten to be attentive to his. It pulls a whine from your lips as your hands unconsciously come to tug at the fabric.

He chuckles but acquiesces—not before you see a flicker of hesitation pass over his face.

It takes a moment to process what you’re looking at as he tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side… and then your jaw drops. ”Shit, Eddie!”

He’s quick to quiet your exclamation with a heated kiss, unintentionally shoving himself that little bit deeper into your cunt. It distracts you, but only for a moment. Then you’re pushing yourself up onto your elbows, trying to wrap your mind around the myriad of deep, whitish-pink scars that litter his torso.

“Eddie, what—“

“Car accident,” he lies before he can think better of it. It’s a story he’s told so many times that he’s almost starting to believe it himself. “Couple years back.”

“Jesus,” you whisper as your fingers trace over the poorly healed lines.

“I know. They’re not pretty.”

That one sentence tells you everything you need to know. “It’s not that,” he assure him. “Just… a miracle you survived something that bad.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “I got lucky.”

He’s deflating a little bit, and the last thing you want him to do is lose that confidence he’s been exuding. You wrap your arms around your neck and pulls him flush against you, feeling every warm inch of his torso against yours as your tongue tangles with his.

“You’re beautiful,” you tell him again. And you mean it.

He draws a gasp from your lips when he presses even closer, every inch of his body covering yours and his length shoved all the way into your needy cunt. It’s almost too much for him—the combination of your tight, wet heat around him; the adoration in your eyes as you look up at him like he’s some kind of god; your hands pulling him closer like you might evaporate if you can’t feel every inch of his body at all times. It’s a heady feeling he’s never experienced before, being wanted this badly. It nearly unravels him—especially when you start bucking your hips up to him in search of the friction you so desperately need.

He sees your need, and it pulls him back into his dutiful role. “I’ve got you, baby.”

He starts with deep, slow thrusts that nearly make you drool—you feel the drag of every single inch against your walls, every vein and ridge and contour. It’s like you’re memorizing the shape of him from the inside out.

One ringed hand slides down your hip and along the length of your thigh to hook beneath your knee, hitching your leg up as high as he comfortably can to spread you wide open for the taking.

You get barely a moment's notice as he draws himself almost all the way out. And then he slams himself back into place—deep, hard, unrelenting. He revels in the sound it draws from you, something between a cry and a plea for more; he silently vows to himself that those little pleasures sounds are going to be all you’re capable of making by the time he’s done with you.

It’s borderline violent, the way he fucks you. His thrusts are relentless and expert in a way you didn’t expect him to be. His lips hardly leave your skin, muffling his moans into hickies and bruises on your neck and chest. His hands grip hard to your body, marks blossoming beneath his fingertips.

You’ve never fallen apart so easily.

“That’s it,” he purrs into your ear as he feels your walls fluttering around him. “Don’t hold back, lemme have it. Please, baby.”

And really, it would be rude to deny him after he’s asked so nicely.

Your orgasm comes like shattered glass. The sound is the first thing you process—your moans drowning out his steady grunts. And then it’s sharp. It drives its shards into your and makes you flinch away from the sensation, so pleasurable it’s almost painful.

You’ve never come just from being fucked before. Sweet, wonderful Eddie carries on working towards his own release like he doesn’t deserve a goddamned award.

“Can I…”

But you’re already nodding, wrapping your legs around his waist and coaxing him deeper—urging him to make a home in the deepest part of you.

He’s not a man who needs to be told twice. He rocks his hips as deep as he can and then presses even closer, the head of him bruising your cervix as he falls apart. And maybe it shouldn’t feel as good as it does, the sensation of him painting your walls with rope after rope or warm, sticky release; but you’re not in the mind to psychoanalyze yourself right now. Instead you do your best to help him through it, lightly ghosting the tips of your fingers in soothing patterns on his back as he pants and shudders.

“Holy…”

“Yeah,” you giggle.

It takes him a few minutes to summon the courage he needs to pull his softening length from your warmth, and he bites down on his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood when he sees the absolute mess that slides down the curve of your ass.

”Jesus H. Christ,” he murmurs. His fingers come to swipe up some of the combined cum before he can stop himself, pushing it back into where he’d spilled it to begin with and relishing in the moan you afford him at the feeling of his thick fingers pressing into your over-sensitive entrance.

He’s so thoroughly enraptured with the sight before him. Your cunt squeezing so tightly around his fingers, cum dripping, desperate to reject due to the overstimulation. And yet you take it without flinching, chest heaving, head falling back against the hardwood floor.

He swipes his thumb over your clit so lightly and yet it still makes you squeeze like a vice around him, and so he does it again. He curls his fingers in search of that spot that made you fall apart so prettily on his cock, and once he finds it he doesn’t relent. That, combined with the light pressure on your clit, is more than enough.

Your thighs tremble, caught indecisively between spreading further open for him and clamping shut on his cum-slicked hand. He watches in awe as your lips part in a silent scream, ass arching up off the floor; and then, as you come down, you have to push him away because it’s finally too much.

”Fuck,” you whimper—he coos so reassuringly as he leans down to gently kiss your lips, errant curls brushing and tickling against your cheeks.

”I know, baby,” he whispers. “God, you’re incredible. Did so good f’me.”

You have to stay still for a moment—let his sweet, gentle kisses bring you back down from the clouds. And then you’re aware of the ache in your back and the absolute puddle forming under your ass, and you push yourself up with a weak groan.

”M’sorry,” he winces in sympathy. “Bed next time, I promise.”

And really, the promise of there being a next time shouldn’t make your heart skip a beat the way it does.

You’re worried things’ll be awkward now, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth. Working with him now is so much more effortless. The tension isn’t as palpable—it’s a fluid thing that you move through confidently now that your feelings and his are known. He isn’t afraid to watch you anymore, awe and adoration in his eyes as you show him how to reassemble the engine block. He observes your skilled fingers at work, and he’s not afraid to tell you how fucking sexy it is to him. He’s not afraid to rest a hand on the small of your back as he stands beside you, even occasionally getting brave enough to let it slip down and cup your ass. He’s not afraid to be his goofy, adorable, manic self—it’s the best metamorphosis you’ve ever seen.

You finish working on his van finally, and he almost tears up at how well she runs now—although he definitely doesn’t let you see that.

And as worried as you were that finishing this job would feel like the end of whatever this is with Eddie, it doesn’t. You feel secure, somehow, that he’ll keep coming back—for more than just parts and labor.

THE END

➔ A/N: thank you as always to @shakespeareanwannabe for putting up with my incessant questions and beta requests 🥹 ily lots

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson one shot #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #stranger things one shot #cece writes

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lea-russo333 · 4 months

Text

Arsenal x Teen-Reader

hi! this is the first fic that I've ever done so it's probably not going to be the best, but I still hope that some people like it! i will do a pt2 if people enjoy this one 😊

warnings: angst! eating disorders, mentions of throwing up, mentions of body shaming (pls let me know if I've missed anything)

please don't read if any of these things will trigger you.

proofread: sort of

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2:15am

You had to be up in a few hours for an early morning training session, but here you are on your phone scrolling through the endless rabbit hole of nasty Comments directed towards your appearance, especially your body.

You had only just come back from an ACL injury that had you out from playing and the public eye for nearly a year, and in that year, you had been working hard to regain your strength making your body stockier than you use to be, and people had noticed.

“She looks like a man.”

“that’s not attractive.”

“She looked better before.”

Your eyes started to sting, a few tears slipping out of them. You turned your phone off and turned around, you tried to stifle your sobs not wanting to wake up Beth and Viv who were sleeping in the room next door.

You had been living with Viv ever since you joined arsenal at 16 as she was your national teammate, so it was only reasonable, Viv and Beth had both taken you under their wing becoming a mother figure to you. Now at 19

You took a deep breath and squeezed your eyes shut holding the teddy bear that Katie had giving you for a birthday present, tears were still streaming down your face when sleep found you pulling you into a deep sleep.

Your blaring alarm startled you awake, you looked towards clock feeling as though you had only just shut your eyes.

7:30am

You groaned, you had to be at training in an hour. Waddling your way to the bathroom, you could hear Beth and Viv both talking down the hall; more than likely in the kitchen making coffee and breakfast for all of you. When you reached the bathroom and took a look in the mirror you froze taking in your appearance, your eyes were puffy and red, swollen face and hair disheveled.

“Liefde” Viv's voice echoed through the house “do you want to have breakfast here or at the training ground? I’ve made pancakes for Beth and I if you want some?” you heard her gently knock the door. Panicked, you quickly splashed cold water on your face and patted down your hair, hoping you didn’t look too much of a mess as you did be for.

You heard her knock again.

“Are you okay sweets?” it was Beths voice speaking now.

“yeah” you took a deep breath, opening the door, they both looked at you, taking in your disheveled form, looking at each other with a concerned look.

“Are you sure Liefde? You look like you’ve been crying’’ it was Viv that spoke this time, her hand reaching out to touch your face. You moved away frowning.

“I'm fine I was just watching some sad videos last night” you brushed both the girls off, giving the two women a half-asked excuse. You heard Beth laugh under her breath, putting her arm on your shoulder.

“Now why would you do that to yourself love” she laughed while patting your back, both girls seeming to believe your lie. “Now how are you feeling about pancakes?” the older women asked whilst dragging you and Viv to the kitchen. You stomach turned and you pulled your hand back shaking your head.

“I'm alright thanks, I think I'm just gonna have breakfast when we get there” you said whilst slowly making your way back into your room to get ready for training.

The car ride to training was fast and you quickly got your training gear out of the car before thanking the two older women and heading for the change rooms. Viv and Beth watch you walk away from them with worried looks on their faces.

“I'm worried about her” Beth turned her head towards Viv.

“I know, so am I” Viv spoke while putting a comforting hand on her girlfriends should, the two heading into the training facility.

When you got in the change room, only a few girls where in there, Steph, Manu and Katie. You quickly said hello before rushing towards the showers, not wanting to change in front of them. You had been changing in the showers for the past few weeks, knowing that if you changed in front of everyone that they'd see how much weight you’ve lost in a short amount of time, and you’d be caught. You waited in the showers until you heard the girls leave for breakfast. You let out a shaky breath that you hadn't realized Youd been holding and sild out of the change rooms and making a bee line for the gym; wanting to get in some extra exercise before practice started. You knew everyone would be at breakfast, so you weren't fussed with anyone catching you. What you hadn't anticipated though, was for your skipper Leah to be in the gym as well. you would never admit it out loud, but Leah intimated you. She was a good captain, hardworking and stern, she always tells it how it is and wasn’t afraid to call someone out when they were acting out or not putting in the effort.

As soon as you entered, she turned to look at you, eyes scrunching in confusion. You mumbled a quick apology and went to leave when she spoke up.

“You alright y/n? why aren't you at breakfast?” she was walking towards you.

“I'm sorry I didn’t realize anyone one was in here, I just wanted to get some extra time in before training” you said rather quickly, eyes looking anywhere but at her.

“Why would you need to do that when we already have an hour gym session today?” her eyebrows still furrowed “you didn’t tell me why you aren't at breakfast” her tone was stern and unwavering as she kept her hard gaze on you.

“I ate breakfast at home” you told her “Viv made pancakes” she looked you up and down almost scanning your body before her gaze turned back to your face her eyebrow rising slightly as if telling you she didn’t really believe you. She looked away as you gulped. That was another thing about Leah, she always seemed to know when you were lying to her, and right now didn’t seem to be an exception.

“Right well trainings about to start anyway” she said while turning your body in the direction of the door “lets head out to the field” she pushed you forward, a silent way to tell you to lead the way. You rolled your eyes and shook your head, speeding up your movement so you didn’t have to walk with her.

As training progressed you could feel your body getting tired, you hadn't eaten anything this morning and thrown up your dinner from last night. You knew it was bad, but you couldn’t stop…it was an addicting feeling.

By the time lunch time had rolled around and training was finished for the day, you were absolutely exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up in your bed and sleep. Your body was sore, and You hobbled slowly towards the changing room, your breathing was uneven, and your head was pounding.

You were the last to make it to the changing rooms, you could her Alessia and Katie making dinner plans for tonight and was asking people if they'd be able to make it. You mentally rolled your eyes as Beth excitedly said that you three would be attending.

“Hey, you alright mate?” you groaned at the question, having heard it one to many times that day for your liking. You turned to see Caitlyn behind you.

“Yes, I'm fine” you huffed out, slowly growing agitated.

“Are you sur- “you cut her off before she could finish.

“Yes, I'm fine! I’ve already said it about a thousand times” you huffed grabbing your stuff and storming out of the room, not even bothering to change, leaving behind shocked Caitlin and confused teammates.

“I’ll go talk to her” Beth muttered after a few minutes of awkward silence. She grabbed her training kit, as did Viv, and walked out of the room. They looked in countless empty rooms before heading to the car park where they found you waiting by the car scrolling on your phone once again, they had noticed you had been doing that a lot recently.

As soon as you heard the car door click, you jumped inside, not wanting to have the conversation you knew was about to take place. Both Beth and Viv entered soon after having a short conversation outside. No one said anything throughout the drive home, the two women sharing glances with each other every now and then while you opted to stay on your phone, scrolling through your Instagram comments.

When the three of you got home you headed straight for your room, closing the door behind you. Both the women sighed as they watched you. They had both noticed a change in you, they had noticed how you went straight to the bathroom after dinner, telling them you needed to “shower”, they had believed you at first until Beth had overheard you vomit in the bathroom 2 nights in a row. They had noticed that you weren't eating the snacks you love anymore or that you weren't eating breakfast in the mornings with them anymore, they had also noticed the mass amount of weight you had lost in such a little span of time. Of course, they had noticed it, practically the whole team had noticed it, with some voice their worries for you every now and then.

“She needs help” Beth stated as she stared at your bedroom door.

“Yeah…I know.”

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

Thank you for reading!! pls write some feedback if you have any :)

and if people are interested then I will do a pt2 💕

#woso #arsenal #arsenal x reader #beth mead #beth mead x reader #vivianne miedema #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #wsl #arsenal imagine #arsenal women

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peachy-wolfhard · 7 months

Text

Dating Leo II

a/n: I wanted to add more after I posted part one so here it is Bone Apple Teeth, I love leo sm so its LONG

Let me know if you would like to be on my tmnt taglist!

Warnings: swearing, grandchildren mention (splinter is gonna splinter), illness mention, insomnia, mentions of slapping leos bald head

Word count: 738 -woof

Insomnia gang

This turtle physically cannot sleep

When you don't spend the night he is CONSTANTLY texting you everything that comes to mind

“y/n…why is pizza a circle?” “idk lee can i come over :3” “yeth pls HURRY IM DYING HERE WITHOUT U”

Lying in his bed, cuddling, matching eyemasks ON, fan ON

Even with all of that, nothing works

The nights that the both of you are actually able to sleep he has a grasp on you

Holds you so close to him all the time, you guys are joined at the hip

Everyone besides Mikey and Splinter thinks you guys are gross

“You can't even say their names apart now it's ALWAYS Leo and y/n. You can't separate them they will DIE without each other”

“Calm down Mikey please you're scaring Shelldon”

Splinter is…well Splinter. He stays in your guys' relationship, with how dramatic you guys are he doesn't need his soaps

He loves to show you baby pictures of the boys esp the ones of Leo

((cough cough he definitely mentions grandchildren like the old man he is))

Bites all the time like anytime anywhere

Making breakfast peacefully listening to music- CHOMP

Getting ready for work- CHOMP

Dr. Delicate Touch has to intervene

Play fights with you in slow-motion

(slow motion voice) “yyy/nnn iiiimm goooinggg tooo kick your aaaasssss”

(also slow motion voice) “im gooonnnaaa kick yours firrrst”

HAND! HOLDING!

Initially, it started as a way to keep Leo from running off when exploring places, but then it turned into a regular thing

“My love, light of my life, future spouse eHEM!”

“What Leo”

“WHERE’S YOUR HAND I AM GOING TO DIE WITHOUT YOUR HAND IN MINE!! I ALREADY FEEL WEAK PLEASE I AM SUFFERING”

Absolute drama queen and don't get me started when he’s sick

Picture those old paintings of the sick children in bed, he’s that but dialed up to eleven

All he wants is cuddles and daytime television and don't you DARE come in between him and his Maury

Giving him medicine is surprisingly easy maybe it’s because he’s so out of it or maybe he’s just in love he’d let you do anything to him

But if you’re ever sick he does the exact same for you

If you fight medicine (just like me fr) he’s NOT afraid to use those ninja moves to get you to take your meds

Loves it when you read to him no matter what you are reading

Manga? Sign him up! Horror book? Let's get spooky! Sad book? I'll get the tissues! He just loves to hear your voice especially if you do different voices for the characters but not overly comedic voices, he’s here for the story!

Falls asleep listening to your voice with his head on your lap 99% of the time

Going to the Hidden City for date nights and getting up to absolute mischief

(having to then call Raph to come get you guys because you pissed someone off and just kicked their butt)

Speaking of the Hidden City! During their break in the Hidden City (when everyone gets arrested) you join Leo at the spa

After he gets kicked out he BEGS you to go to the creepy spa across the street with him

“Sorry sweetheart I too am in DIRE need of some relaxation plus it’s not often I’m in an exclusive club”

The moment he shows up with that gorgeous hair you’re suspicious

Texts you a selfie of his new hair with the creepy ass background

“Whatcha think? Even more handsome than normal? ;)” “go back to being bald i miss slapping ur bald head :(“

Anyway when he starts “sleepwalking” your immediate reaction is “Maybe it's the wig” but quickly forget all about it due to relaxation

“Um… yyyy/nnnn could you please help me out with one teeny tiny situation…? Please?”

Now you and Leo are on the case!

“Ooo lala finally some privacy ;)”

“Don't touch me until you’re bald AND we figure this out”

“Pwetty pwease? JUST ONE!”

“Fine, ONE kiss”

After the evil hair reveal and fighting with your boyfriend’s hair he's finally bald again

Leo explains the massage guy’s deal but it falls on deaf ears

“Hey, who’s that guy?” “He'sthe non-member we kicked out earlier!”

“I bet he and that human are the thieves. Call the cops”

After a quick stay in jail, you’re now peacefully back home

#rottmnt x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #tmnt x reader #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles x reader #rise leo #rise leo x reader #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #leo x reader #masterlist

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witheringwidgetwrites · 6 months

Note

an mc with echolalia repeating noises/words/phrases the demon bros say (especially things in demonic language) and some of them getting Annoyed thinking its you mocking them and challenging them (lucifer, satan) or that ur making fun of them in a demeaning way (levi, mammon) and the general confusion and possible angst from hurt feels bc they dont know this is just a Thing some humans do. i think solomon would get caught in a loop with mc tho especially during nightbringer era like sol makes a Noise, mc repeats it, they go back and forth bc sol thinks its cute n understands the stimming nature it can have and everyone else is just '???? did the humans break???'

sorry if this doesnt make much sense its 3 am for me but i saw the ask abt demons not rly understanding humans and was like. lets take it up a notch with autistic (and other neurodivergent) traits and behaviors. bewilder those bitches some more. also i love ur writing its so good thank you for all youve blessed us with <3

AutismCore me me me me me relatable i love this ask sm i am stimming rN

pls send in a req for the others! if i do all in 1 post itll be soo long (also if u want a longer one send in 1 character and we can get some real angst in here)

Lucifer is one who doesn't mind very much. He's used to the Anti-Lucifer-League mocking almost everything he says, so there's not surprises there. However one evening at the dinner table, he it comes along in passing.

"Yes, I've never quite understood if you enjoy my presence or not, as you seem to mock me so often, MC."

"Wait, what are you talking about?"

"I heard you the other evening, you were speaking of what I had said to you, repeatedly. If I recall, it was, 'Don't dally with the dragons, MC'," he smiles at you, but there seems to be a little aggression behind it.

"Oh no, that's not mocking, Luci, it's called echolalia! It's a symptom of my autism." You go on to explain, and it seems like a small wave of relief washes over his eyes.

"Very well. I'm glad we got that misunderstanding cleared up."

The one who avoids you is Mammon, he's only now been caught up to by you, as you sit into the chair next to him at dinner. It's mostly quiet, until everyone has left, besides you him, and Leviathan and Beel, who are having this own conversation. You speak quietly, "have you been avoiding me, Mammon?"

"Why'd ya think that? Maybe it's you avoiding me!"

"Well, I haven't seen you almost at all in 4 days. Everytime I see you, you turn the other way. You feel the sting of fresh tears start to burn in your eyes, and Mammon can't help but feel a little guilty.

"Why'd ya even want to be around me, I heard you mocking me. You were sayin' 'mammoney' over and over."

"No, Mammon, that's not it at all!" You furrow your brow, and more tears start to come forward. This is not the first time you have been misunderstood by someone about your symptoms. You go on to explain, practically pleading with him to believe you.

"So it's just somethin' some humans do? Really? I think Levi does that sometimes," he chuckles, a small blush gracing his features.

The one who is most hurt by the misunderstanding is Leviathan. For sure. He heard you saying "Ruri-chan" over and over to yourself and assumed you were making fun of him. He hid away from you for days until you caught up to him, and asked if he'd been avoiding you. You missed your best friend dearly. "Of course I have! I heard you mocking me! I thought we were friends." His frown was evident, and you had to pry to find out what he was talking about. "Leviathan, what in the world are you talking about?"

"I heard you! You said," in his best mimicking voice he could muster, "Ruri-chan, over and over."

You were quick to stop him, trying your best to explain. He was still hurt, but he did feel a little silly.

"Oh, I guess that makes sense. I do that too sometimes, repeat things when they're f-fun to say, I mean," he seems to trail off, averting his gaze. His anger had not dissipated, and he felt silly for ever being mad.

"I-I'm, I'm sorry for misunderstanding you, MC."

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #lucifer x reader #mammon x reader #leviathan x reader #om! lucifer #om! mammon #om! levi #om! leviathan

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legendofmorons · 7 months

Note

hiii!! i'd like to say that i rlly liked your blog, so i wanted to make a little bit more specific request..? idk if youre alright with that but anyway…😣

id like to request a chain reaction/headcanon (romantic or platonic) with a fem! umbra witch! reader (from the bayonetta series) like she acts all baddass in the fight with her summons and everything, but she’s actually pretty sweet and nice with everyone??

pls be heavy on sky, time and twi, they’re my favs😣🙏

ANYWAYS TY SM FOR YOUR ATTENTION, sorry if was too specific/wrote smth wrong english is not my first language !!💗💗😊

Chain & Umbra! Fem! Reader

This is such a cool idea! I've never actually heard of Bayonetta before, but everything I've learned while researching this topic has been pretty awesome. And don't worry about your wording - English is my first language, and I swear there are days I barely speak it.

Pairing: chain & reader

Rating: G

Summary: Headcanons for chain eith a fem! Umbra! Reader.

Warnings: Gun mention,

Other: If I missed any please let me know.

I'm not sure how exactly you get there but you're not keen on revealing your magic at first. Between your own experiences and the rules of your people it seems like a bad idea.

The boys are all pretty respectful of your space, especially when you bathe or change.

Time definitely has a way of helping soothe people- and he will use it on you if you're upset at all.

Wind might ask some personal questions, but it's in good spirit. If you ask him to stop he will.

When you explain what guns are they're all pretty interested even if Legend pretends he isn't.

The boys are all fond of you. You're kind, you're sweet, and you are always helping to take care of them. Why wouldn't they love you?

The first time you're involved in a fight, Time and Twilight are both too busy trying to cover you from danger to actually fight.

This means you end up using your magic and your guns to take down the monsters attacking you three.

Your demon is summoned as you continue fighting - leaving Time and Twilight both in awe.

I assume you treat your pact demon well so it genuinely cares about you and those you care for.

After you all slay the monsters, you bid your demon goodbye and then focus on making sure everyone is okay.

Sky is quick to make sure you're okay.

He asks about the demon and your magic. Very interested as he patches you up.

He just nods as you explain things.

The others all listen to, trying and failing at pretending they aren't.

Time is the first to apologize for underestimating you. He explains that he just wanted to keep you safe.

His exact words are, "I'm sorry I underestimated you. I wanted to keep you safe, but you died need me too. Thank you for helping us out."

He means it too. He's both sorry for his previous actions and VERY thankful for your help.

Twilight is quick to offer you water once everyone is patched up. Asking if your demon is from the twilight realm.

When you explain about Inferno, Twilight looks worried.

You're quick to assure him that you aren't worried.

Wild probably makes your favorite meal that night.

Twilight and Time both start to factor you and your fighting style into fights and planning. This allows them a lot of Lee way they didn't have before.

Sky starts asking you to teach him more about your culture. He's very eager to learn.

Overall, the boys realize the as sweet and genuinely wonderful as you are - you aren't afraid to kick some ass when needed.

#lu #linkeduniverse #misty writes #linked universe x reader #lu four #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu sky #lu time #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu wild #lu wind #tw gun mention #tw gun #cw gun

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luffyvace · 4 months

Note

Ooo if you’re still taking requests pls do black reader with either sanji or ace next (or both!!)🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

YESSS I AMMM AND WILL DO LOVE!! i’m gonna doooo…BOTH<3

(u didn’t specify gender so i’m still going gn♡)

SANJI X BLACK READER IS SUCH A POWER COUPLE

ok first of if your a bit more thicc/chubby he adores you<3

he wont ever judge his beloved<3

let’s clear that up now okay? He loves you.

he also loves your hairrrrrrrr 😍

loves the texture and praises/compliments it in great detail

he will insist on washing it for you or at least helping you, especially if you have a lot of hair

he LOVESSSSS big Afro’s 😍😍

it just looks so majestic to him

will learn how to braid on and off scalp for you so you don’t have to blister/hurt your own fingers

even if it means he has to deal with the burning himself

will do any style no matter how long it takes

He just loves to be able to condition and style your hair and be like ‘yeah I did that for my s/o! 🦸‘

YES SUPERMAN LOL

another thing he loves is LOCSSSSS 💗💗

He finds it so mesmerizing and ethereal like💥💥💥💥

it just DOES something to him

yea man is a simp through and through

doesn’t mind at all when he notices your skin/hair is naturally oily and he tries to ask you in the softest way possible as to why its that way

in case your sensitive about it or if it’s just a you thing

but nope! It’s simply to help keep your skin/hair hydrated

ohhhh!

speaking of which everything about your culture is so fascinating to him

he asks all about it and I mean ESPECIALLY on the your traditional dishes

wants you to teach/cook him every recipe so he can make it for you should you ever miss food from home

btw let’s say you can cook for the headcanons, even if you can’t

will let you prepare you own dishes if you want

they smell so good too!! 🤤🤤

YUMMY

luffy WILL bother you to cook for him as well

if it gets on your nerves sanji will be there to shoo him away

sanji finds all your features attractive, from your nose, to your hair, down to your skin and lips

especially those juicy lips 😊😊

oh how he wants to kiss them for eternity<3

he also hypes you uppppp about ur fits!!

he thinks they’re fire and will spend all his money buying you more!!

def shows you off and compliments you like crazyyy

as far as AAVE.. he doesn’t get it for a while..

kinda just hahah..😅 (??)

he does get tho! After some time :)

feels so accomplished once he masters it but doesn’t really use it out of respect

just knows it to know what your talking about and be able to laugh at your jokes and stories 😋

might have to translate a few things to the rest of the crew..

LOL

not everything tho it’s not like your speaking a whole new language

but it is a good way to sneak comments about people to each other 😗

bonus! sanji 100% brags to zoro about you being his s/o

ace is very curious about..everything!

asks you lots of questions without holding back

he just wants to know all about you and your hair, culture, food, everything!

LOVES the fact that you for sure know how to throw a party

and dance too!

again let’s say you can for the headcanons

and don’t get me started on your cooking…

he smackin that food DOWN

yummy yummy 😋

make as much as you can and more because we all know this man has a huge appetite

plays with your hair a lot

he doesn’t like when his finger nails get caught tho 🤦‍♀️

YOU don’t like it even more! Your hair gets yanked from him trying to get it out! HE shouldn’t be the one complaining..😒

doesn’t normally pay much attention to clothes but does admit you can dress and GOOD

will compliment you too if your wearing something more extravagant than normal

but just know he thinks your fits are fire 🔥

LOL

he just doesn’t verbalize it all the time

maybe to Marco more than you 🤷‍♀️

he thinks all the stories you tell him from when you were little are HILARIOUS

like the time yo mama said she gon smack you into the next dimension if you do smth like that again

“HAHAHAHA”

“BRUHH ITS NOT FUNNYYYY”

tells whitebeard the stories you’ve told him

WHITEBEARD FINDS IT FUNNY TOO

random

Ace’s favorite meal you cook is your barbecue

😍😍

🤤

he hear that grill it’s time to EAT.

as for if reader is chubby

he doesn’t mind in the slightest and loves you in every way

doesn’t affect him much unless it affects your mental health

then he’ll do anything to make you happy

doesn’t know much about psychology and he needs to heal himself in which he likely takes you to Marco

but don’t worry this is different, it’s not some doctor that doesn’t care about you and only wants your money!

it’s Marco! The ship’s doctor! Ace’s friend! your friend!

so you know he genuinely wants to help :)

Ace probably will never end up getting AAVE..

he’s not dumb it’s just…

’wait what?? He’s confused..’

LOL

he knows it’s how you talk tho

which is just about all he knows

you could probably teach marco or izo and use it against ace by talking abt him 😂

not in a mean way, in a playful insult way

he feels really lucky to have you

he’s more likely to wash your hair if you ask him btw

don’t get me wrong he loves it

but would prefer to admire from a far

especially while in a Afro

when you have your hair in your ponytail he likes to press it down a bit, let it go and go “boing boing-“

“boy!-“ *smacks hand away*

yeaaa..you stop him

I’m really glad you requested these because I’ve been meaning to write more for ace and I wanted to write for sanji as well!

I actually have another ace draft coming………..sooner or later…BESIDES THE POINT! You can look out for it if you want some more ace content<3 hope you enjoyed your request anon!♥︎

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chiptaylorsfirst · 1 year

Text

A/N: Sure thing. This is the part one if anyone would like to see it: https://www.tumblr.com/chiptaylorsfirst/701769792120602625/pls-could-you-write-a-smut-with-sub-kit-walker-x?source=share and I hope you enjoy part 2.

Word Count: 2,386

Pairing: dom!Kit Walker x sub!fem!Reader

Warning: Smut, bdsm, overstimulation, spanking, oral sex (male and female receiving), aftercare

Summary: After a long day of work, Kit finds you breaking one of his rules and has to teach you a lesson.

You had been waiting on Kit to come home like you did on most days. You never understood why he worked so much and you swore that there were other jobs that could hand him a paycheck that didn’t take as much time. You missed him greatly and you couldn’t continue doing other tasks to distract you from the ache that was between your legs for him. You wanted him but he wasn’t available right now. You got out of bed to check the time and sighed. You had 30 minutes to do anything you wanted.

You always would break his rules more than he ever broke yours and you were slightly upset that this was his month of dominance instead of yours. Why couldn’t the agreement have been two months instead of one? You crawled into the bed, closing your eyes as you thought about your most recent sexual encounter with Kit. “Baby, I haven’t even laid a finger on you yet and you’re soaking.” Kit’s voice was dripping with amusement. “Kit, anyone could walk in and see us.” He pulled your legs closer to him as you adjusted yourself on the car you were propped up on. “That’s the point.” He unzipped his pants, letting them go down just enough to reveal his hard cock.

You decided this was the time to slip a finger inside of you, your other hand occupied on playing with your nipple. “Kit,” you moaned out as you slipped in another finger. Your fingers curled and you were deep in thought as you continued, imagining how much more pleasure you’d experience if your fingers were replaced by Kit’s long and pretty length. Your pussy clenched just from the thought and you started to buck against your fingers. The images that filled your head were the best thoughts you’ve ever had.

They were so good that you didn’t hear the front door open or the steps of your husband in the hallway. He had walked to the cracked doorway, beginning to speak but closing his mouth immediately. His eyes went over your form and what you’d been doing. Your hair was spread out over the pillows as you squirmed all over the bed, your fingers buried inside of you. The sight made Kit’s mouth go dry. He hadn’t expected to find you like this at all and you were only effecting him worse the more you moaned out his name. “Kit,” you cried out.

He’d decided that it was time you knew he was there and cleared his throat. “Didn’t know you were so desperate for me that you couldn’t even wait for 15 minutes.” Your face instantly became flushed with worry and shock. You removed your hand from yourself, your mouth parting to speak but closing because you have nothing to say. “I got out early today as you can see.” “Kit, please don’t be too rough on me. I just missed you so much.”

He sighed as he looked at you. You would’ve pulled of the look of innocence had he not seen what you were doing a few seconds ago. “Baby, rules are rules and you need to follow them, especially when they’re mine.” You looked like a scolded child. You weren’t supposed to masturbate unless he’d given you permission to. It was one of the few rules he’d given you for the periods he had of being your dom. You always managed to break at least three rules each time. You could never seem to fully obey him no matter how much you wanted to be good for him and now you were going to have to suffer the consequences like you did on so many days.

“Strip all of your clothes off now then go to the floor and get on your knees. I want your hands behind your back. You understand?” “Yes,” you responded. “Yes, who?” “Mr. Walker.” He smiled at you and watched as you removed the oversized shirt you’d been wearing. You were stark naked beneath it and you walked to him, lowering on your knees and put your hands behind your back. He looked down at you and bent down to kiss your forehead. You knew that was going to be the only kindness he would show during this whole thing. “Look up at me and open your mouth.”

You did as he asked, watching him take off his belt and unzip his bottoms. He pulled them down until he got what he needed to be exposed. You pressed your thighs together and he noticed this quickly. “Spread your legs as far apart as you can and keep them that way. I promise you that you’ll be getting off very very soon. For now, put that mouth to work and suck.” You obediently opened your mouth, feeling the tip on your tongue. You started to suck gently, struggling not to move your hands from behind your back as you did so.

You kept your eyes on Kit, watching as his mouth opened and his head leaned back just a little before he looked down at you. “You have such a good mouth.” You moaned around him at the praise. He tugged your hair, using it as leverage to fuck into your throat. His pace was gentle at first but soon diverted into a rough one that had you choking on the long length of his cock. “Fuck, honey. Just like that.” The more you were spurred on, the more turned on you became. You made it your life mission to satisfy him the best you could in that very moment from how good he praised you.

You felt him twitching eventually, ready for his cum to spill in your throat and surprised when he pulled you off of him. “You don’t get the privilege of tasting my cum, not after what you’ve done.” He knew how much you loved it and craved it during sex. He watched you and now it was being used against you. Damn him for being the good observant husband he is. He smirked as you looked at the floor. “Please, Mr. Walker.” He took your hand from behind your back, giving you a sign to get up. “Not now. Get on the bed. I’ll tell you exactly what I want you to do later.”

He started to strip himself of his clothes and you noticed the fact that he kept his belt in hand. He turned around, his eyes boring into yours as he sat on the bed. “Get over my knee.” You crawled to him, bending over him. You shivered from the feeling of his hand meeting the skin of one of your cheeks. He rubbed his hand over it, simply appreciating how round and soft your ass was. “I’m going to spank you and finger you. You can make as many noises as you want but if you try to squirm away from me, you will get a worse punishment than the one I’m carrying out for you.”

You weren’t used to this version of Kit except for when he’d had a tiring day and by the tone in his voice, you believed that his day must have been way more than tiring. He started to finger you, slipping two of his fingers in until they were knuckle deep. Your body jolted from the feeling but you were soon greeted with a smack to your ass. You weren’t used to this version of Kit except for when he’d had a tiring day and by the tone in his voice, you believed that his day must have been way more than tiring.

He started to finger you, slipping two of his fingers in until they were knuckle deep. You let out a soft gasp, making Kit delighted as he continued his assault on you. You were bucking against his hand and fingers at the same time, enjoying the pleasure and pain equally. Your cheeks were now changing into a pretty shade of pink and it made your husband almost not want to stop. Your moans and reactions were the absolute best and he loved to witness it again and again. Eventually, when you were on the verge of crying from how good his fingers felt and the recurring pain from the force he applied on your arse, he slowed down.

You came on his fingers, your mouth opening to say an apology but too much of a mess to do so. “I K-Kit,” was a small moan from you that you could manage to get out. “It’s okay, baby. You can cum all you want tonight. As a matter of fact, we’re not done until you do it 5 times. You okay with that?” “Yes, Mr. Walker.” He hummed to himself at the name, almost purring from the sound of it. He rubbed over your now thoroughly bruised ass, tapping your thigh and watching as you got off of him. “Lay on your back and spread your legs.” You did as he asked, your eyes looking into his. “Now just relax for me and let me know if you ever want to stop. I don’t want to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable at all.” “It’s okay, Kit,” you reassured him. “You’ve never done that to me and I know you won’t.

He smiled, diving his head between your thighs, his hands wrapping around them and spreading you open. “Fuck, you’re so good and wet for me.” You moaned once you felt him start to lap at you and lick. He did small flicks and patterns with his tongue, making you wrap your thighs around his head even tighter. He didn’t mind. He loved whenever you did that. You were squirming all around, trying to escape him as he started to finger you. He slapped your thigh, lifting up. “Do that again and you’ll be edged instead.” You stopped, taking all that he gave you and soon meeting your second release. You were already tired and spent but you were going to allow him to continue.

“Now, you’re going to put those little fingers of yours inside of that pretty pussy you have, okay? I want to see you cum on your fingers.” He got off of the bed, giving you space to do the exact action that was the purpose of all this. You closed your eyes as your hand roamed down. “Uh uh, sweetheart. You were so desperate to do this while I was gone and now I want you to look me in my eyes while you do it.” Your eyes fluttered open as you continued to grant him his orders as he wished. It didn’t take much before you were spasming and gushing out on your fingers. You were overstimulated and ruined and unfortunately for you, Kit wasn’t done yet. He hadn’t even fucked you.

He picked up his belt, a smile on his face as he walked to you. You watched the look of concentration on his face as he skillfully bound your wrists together. You hated it already and he knew it. You loved physical touch and now he was using that against you. He used the belt as leverage, flipping you onto your stomach before slipping himself inside of you. You both moaned as he started to fuck you, not even bothering to start at a slow pace for you. “All you had to do, fuck, was be a good girl.” He started to pull your hair as he spoke into your ear, his voice a bit hoarse and raspy.

“You couldn’t do that for me, hmm? Answer me.” He was fucking you into the mattress deep and rough. “Y-Yes, Mr. Walk-Walker. I c-could’ve.” You were already close and it hadn’t even been 5 minutes yet. “Why, tell me why you did it.” “I m-missed y-you so m-much. Mm, fuck. You-You’re so deep, Kit.” He let go of your hair, kissing your collarbone. “You look so pretty and pathetic for me right now. Mm, you’re so tight.” You were whimpering and moaning, trying to grab onto the sheets although the belt made it difficult. “Awe, is my pretty girl gonna cum?” “Y-Yes, mm, fuck, yes.” You came around him, covering the sheets in your essence. He followed a little bit after then flipped you onto your back.

He removed the belt from your wrists, throwing it onto the ground before he looked into your exhausted eyes. You were thoroughly broken and ruined, your arms wrapping around him. A small relaxed sigh escaped your lips as you hugged him, happy to finally touch his skin. “One more,” you breathed out. His eyes softened when he looked at you and he was scared he would hurt you. “You sure?” “Mhm, one more like you said. I need to get 5.” He placed a kiss on your cheek before he lazily fucked you. He wasn’t rough this time. He was going at a gentle and slow pace but your overstimulated cunt was already clenching around him and you met your peak rather quickly, calling out his name as you milked his cock.

He didn’t bother riding you out from your high because of how sensitive you were. He just pulled out, a whimper escaping your lips as he did so. Your legs were numb and your eyes closed. “I’ll be back, okay?” A small nod was all you did to acknowledge his presence and he went away to grab a washcloth and some lotion. He came back, turning you over onto your stomach, massaging your sore bottom using the lotion he’d grabbed. You let out soft moans at the feeling, already relaxing into his touch.

“Does that feel better?” “Mhm.” He softly turned you over, cleaning your inner thighs and your weeping cunt with the damp cloth he had. “Ah, Kit, Kit,” you pleaded. “I know, I know. I just have to clean this bit and it’ll be over.” When it was over, he cleaned a little bit of your shared room, getting the clothes off the floor and putting them in the washer along with the cloth. When he got back to you, you were already asleep. He placed a kiss on your cheek before crawling into bed with you and stayed like that, looking at your peaceful face.

#kit walker smut #kit walker x y/n #kit walker x you #kit walker x reader #kit walker #dom kit walker #ahs asylum #ahs smut #ahs fanfic #anon reply #anon ask #anon request

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callsign-bunnie · 1 year

Note

*BANGING ON THE DAMN DOORS* PART FOURRR PLEASE IM DYING. IM DYING SQUIRTLE. I’m a little ckreauture stuttering around for SCP part four pls and thank you

Haha, of course!

[Transcript start]

Alex: So let me get this straight. You managed to find copies of yourself.

Soap: No, no, I found a copy of Ghost and a copy of Roach but they're from a different universe, I think. A different timeline. It was 2010 when they were sent here.

LT Ghost: What year was it when you were sent here?

Soap: 2023.

LT Ghost: Fucking hell. We've only been here three years it feels like. God, Captain is going to lose his fucking mind when he meets you all.

Soap: He means Captain Me by the way. I'm apparently a captain in this universe.

Alex: Well, don't get too prideful, Soap. *chuckles* Anyway, this is fucking crazy. So, you came to me?

Soap: Funnily enough, I thought you'd question it the least. You seem... fairly open minded about this place.

Alex: Yeah, I've had personal experience with these fuckers. Hey, what do we call this second Ghost?

LT Ghost: You guys can call me Riley if you want.

Alex: Hell, I'll take it.

Soap: Hey, Riley? I'm curious are you and your Soap... close?

LT Ghost: Closer than close. We're married.

Soap: What?!

Alex: *laughs*

LT Ghost: Are you and your Ghost not... together?

Soap: No- Alex stop laughing you asshole. No. Ghost... isn't interested in me like that.

LT Ghost: Yeah, Roach and Soap eloped shortly after we escaped Shepherd. They decided to be legally married and then we had a small ceremony with me as well.

Soap: WITH ROACH?!

Alex: *laughs louder*

Soap: You all three are together??

LT Ghost: *laughs* Yeah. I guess Polyamoury is a weird concept here?

Alex: Not at all. Soap just-

Soap: Alex, go back to Gaz.

Alex: I will gladly go to my boyfriend. I'll leave you with your pseudo-boyfriend- ow! Why did you throw that at me?

Soap: You fucking know why, Keller. Go. Shoo. Riley, where did you say you were?

LT Ghost: O5 I think if I read the sign right. Roach is telling me that's correct.

Soap: Is Roach mute in your universe as well?

LT Ghost: Selectively. But yes. What about yours?

Soap: Completely. An accident.

LT Ghost: You said you were also betrayed by Shepherd earlier... How?

Soap: It's a long story. Some missiles went missing and we were sent to Mexico to find them.

LT Ghost: Mexico?

Soap: Yeah. I met my best friend, Rodolfo, there.

LT Ghost: I look forward to meeting him. I got to say, you sound a lot different from my Soap. His accent is a lot thicker.

Soap: I keep it more neutral so everyone understands me. I get sick of constantly getting told to speak English.

LT Ghost: Makes sense. And you also are still a Sergeant?

Soap: Yep. Your Soap is a captain, though?

LT Ghost: Captain John Soap Mactavish, yes.

Soap: Fun.

LT Ghost: You two are fairly different, even in the way you act, though. I mean, I haven't seen you move but you speak in different manners. You're a lot more carefree.

Soap: I'm not more carefree, I don't like being miserable.

LT Ghost: I guess that's a good outlook on life to have.

Soap: Check back in in 2 hours, Riley.

LT Ghost: Yes, sir.

[Transcript end]

[Transcript start]

Rodolfo: There's a second Ghost?

Soap: Yes, and a second Roach. And a second me. Apparently a second Gaz and Price, too, though I think Gaz is dead.

Rodolfo: But no second me, right?

Soap: No. You don't exist in that universe. I mean, I'm sure you do but they never go to Mexico to meet you.

Rodolfo: Fascinating. And this second Ghost is coming here to meet us?

Soap: As far as I know, yes. And the second Roach.

Rodolfo: Does Price know about this?

Price: He does now.

Soap: Price! I didn't know you were on the radio.

Price: I'm always on the radio. Especially since Ghost disappeared. What's this about a second us?

Soap: Someone got on the radio calling themselves Lieutenant Ghost Riley. They called me Captain John Mactavish.

Price: And you invited them to our camp?

Soap: I thought we were here to gain information, sir.

Price: You're right. We are. Safely. How do you know they're not a threat?

Soap: I mean, I guess I don't but... how do they know we aren't?

Rodolfo: I think it will be interesting to meet them.

Price: I suppose. I'm sure Roach is excited to meet his counterpart.

Soap: Practically bursting with it.

Price: Let me know when they are set to arrive.

Soap: Yes, sir.

[Transcript end]

[Transcript start]

LT Ghost: Sergeant Mactavish, this is Riley, how copy?

Soap: Riley! I copy.

LT Ghost: John and Price managed to find me.

CPT Soap: Sergeant Mactavish, this is Captain Mactavish. Am I hearing my lieutenant correctly? Is your name John Mactavish?

Soap: Johnny Mactavish, actually. Do I actually sound like that?

Rodolfo: No, hermano. Your voice is softer.

CPT Soap: Who the fuck are you?

Rodolfo: Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra, second in command to Los Vaqueros, a Mexican Special Forces unit.

Soap: It's okay, Rudy, stand down. Riley, where are you, actively?

LT Ghost: The sign says G4.

Soap: You're very close. I'll inform our Price that you're coming.

CPT Price: Will he come on the radio?

Price: Already am.

CPT Price: It's nice to meet you, I'm Captain John Price-

Price: I've been informed, Captain. We await your arrival.

Soap: You two sound exactly the fucking same!

Rodolfo: It is uncanny.

Soap: That's wild. I suppose Price is universal

Rodolfo: *laughs* I will tell Alejandro what is going on.

CPT Soap: Why do you have Mexican Special Forces with you?

Soap: It's a long story but he's practically my best friend. Technically his best friend is Alejandro but... well, it's a long story. Riley said you, Roach, and him were married?

CPT Soap: Are you and your Ghost not married?

Soap: No. I'm not that lucky, I suppose.

CPT Soap: Hmm.

LT Ghost: John.

Soap: It's alright. I'm a suspicious man, I get it. Anyway, we await your arrival. You should arrive before the lights go out.

LT Ghost: It looks that way. We will see you then, Soap.

Soap: Affirmative.

[Transcript end]

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buckevantommy · 17 days

Text

alright i finally managed to get a copy of the ep and i'm watching it on my smallass iphone screen which isn't ideal but i can't wait 3 days to get access to a bigger screen so here we go:

i need to know if that rainbow flare on buck was intentional

i might be looking too hard but that hand grabbing buck's throat and then eddie's junk could be foreshadowing for you know what, i mean who's to say?

oliver deserves a fucking oscar for his nervous smitten buck performance

tommy shaved for their date which is so old school i love it but i also miss the scruff and need to see its return asap

hints of Tommy Backstory, my beloved

the convo about renting out a home with marisol and eddie but including buck is making me think of how buck is possibly being 'rented out' to tommy in the narrative for now but later eddie will be the one to buy

i understand tommy ending their date early but WHAT HAPPENED to him picking up buck from his loft?? and don't tell me he ubered for a first date when we know he drives. although i get not wanting to drink and drive ig

also: tommy was meant to pick up buck at 8pm and now they've finished dinner so wtf is eddie and marisol doing starting their dinner at like 930pm is that an LA thing bc that's insane

'oldest italian restaurant' sign just makes me think of tommy and buck's age gap and i giggle and gasp

buck's reaction to being rejected is breaking my hearrrrt. tommy opened him up to his sexuality and buck was So Excited and now this guy is just dumping him?? who is he supposed to bounce his restless bisexual energy off now??

we're not even 10mins in so i have no idea what the bulk of this ep is gonna be about

oH YEAH THE GAY MOMS pls let them be happy

BUCK COMES OUT TO MADDIE ACCIDENTALLY like a true bisexual disaster

The Guy Thing is very much The Point buck, you sweet thick cinnamom scroll

buck is doubly an ally. he's a bially.

keep talking buck i am cackling you adorable baby bi

insane thing to have eddie post-sex with his nun gf after buck was gushing about tommy

it's okay buck, false starts with difficult convos happen, you'll get there

something something buck intending to come out to eddie and eddie explaining his sex problems all while eddie gets sweaty and swole

LIKE SEAMONKEYS! buck i adore you

buck wishes he could lend eddie a hand but he can't bc he's no homewrecker and bc eddie is quote unquote straight. not bc he himself is taken, bc the hot pilot dumped him and oh now i'm sad again :(

there's some buck+guilt [re:self worth] meta glanced over here that makes me wanna delve into some introspective reads

buck giving good advice is something that can be so personal

hen saving a rescue dog after it attacked the firefighter trying to save it as a parallel to their current foster child situation. it's just good storytelling. the dark stuff is getting hopeful

HANG OUT WITH THE BOYS eddie you don't know how perfect your words are

i really love the way they chose for buck to come out to eddie. trying to do it at a certain time didn't work for him, it was too daunting. but as soon as eddie mistook buck's date with tommy for something platonic? buck doesn't want to hide anymore. it really speaks to the human and especially the queer experience - that need to correct someone's misinterpretation (someone important to buck) of who you are.

GAY TOMMY CONFIRMED

supportive eddie and 'this doesn't change a thing between us'

buck finally getting to talk to his friend about getting dumped by a guy he was really hoping for more with

eddie's turn to give good advice to buck re:his dating life and we come full circle

buck's relief at eddie knowing and accepting him. the double-back for the hug. the comfort is all there.

i want to shower the wardrobe department in love for putting buck in that slutty blue 70s polo for his date within tommy and then the sky blue sweater and now this tight stripey number i am digging the vibes

buck hearing that he didn't screw things up with tommy, tommy just didn't want to pressure him bc the feels are mutual! and buck taking responsibility for his behaviour bc he's mature like that he's a good dude

i love lou but oliver literally glows - and i don't mean from the sunshine - he lights up every scene

the way buck gushed about tommy's confidence to maddie and now he's the confident one reassuring tommy that he wants this and that it won't be weird for tommy i am so proud of him

HOUSTON WE HAVE HAND HOLDING

sad my buddy chim was barely in this ep :(

WEDDING TEASER and we've got a Hangover situation and a missing groom omg

the writers are working their magic and we are reaping the rewards.

#911 spoilers #evantommy #.txt #watchnotes #bucktommy #buck is bi #buddie #911 abc 7x05 #bisexual disaster #bisexual characters #summary

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interstellar-debris · 1 year

Note

*slides in Risky Business style*

Hello, you glamorous rock star! I've got an idea for you. Would you be interested in doing some headcanons for Beckman, Shanks, and Reader (if you're comfortable, I know you mentioned being new at it!) for this lovely holiday/winter season? I think we could all use a bit of fluff this time of year to counter the added stress and what better way than with two of the best pirates/parents on the seas? Thank you for hearing me out, for your time and effort, and I hope you have a marvelous December!

Hi, my dear shining friend! This made me so excited that I literally wrote this at 1 am. Your order of fluffy (and fun, if I may say) hcs with two of the most fearsome pirates is up! I hope you will enjoy it!

Winter HCs

°Characters & reader pronouns: Shanks; Benn Beckman & GN reader in mind

°Synopsis: What would winter with these two fine pirates be? (Add to it a sprinkle of the crew shenanigans)

°A/N: I did it with GN reader in mind, but if I missed smt, pls let me know.

Cozy moments in the quarters. Just you, Shanks, Beck, and your hot beverage of choice. And yes, there are definitely plenty of eggnog refills.

Speaking of eggnog, Roux has mastered the art of most alcoholic, while still delicious eggnog…, and now the first mate is on babysitting duty twice as much.

Despite the crew being a loud one in general, I can guarantee that both Shanks and Beckman love those quiet winter moments - candles, fluffy blankets, yummy beverages, and time, which feels like it has slowed down so you could fully appreciate this all.

Be prepared though. The second the deck gets under a blanket of snow, chaos ensues; even if only among the three of you, though more usually than not everyone gets dragged into this icy war. And while yes, Shanks usually starts the fight, don't get fooled by the usually laid-back Beckman. He can, and will, throw the snowball with scary accuracy…

Usually, you and Shanks get together to bring the first mate down, but occasionally your lovers side against you, and well… good luck, you are screwed.

Fair warning: if the crew is involved, be prepared for them nagging the hell out of Yasopp and Beckman, riling them up, until it ends in a snowball sharpshooting competition… It has already happened several times, and you can't convince me otherwise.

Baths. Especially after playing in the snow. Shanks has a bigass bath, which can fit the three of you comfortably, so that's where you go for the evening - if it's time.

On another note - Shanks is a little shit! Even more in the wintertime. He will have the cutest and most innocent look on his face… and then he will shove his icy cold hands under your clothes - cuz gloves are for weak! - all while sporting a proud smile. He is happy, cuz he caught you unaware. Meanwhile, Beckman leaves the moment he sees that look on his lover's face; he fell for it far too many times than he wants to admit. And no, he doesn't alert you. Learn it the hard way - as he had to.

Beckman will, however, make up for his betrayal by being extra cuddly. I like to think that he comes from a fairly warm island, so he isn't the best in dealing with cold weather… Luckily Shanks runs hot, and who wouldn't mind some extra cuddles with this fine man, you certainly don't.

Beckman can't skate. He just doesn't do it. I mean, Shanks can't skate either, but only when sober - no one knows why or how, but the moment Shanks gets on the ice drunk… he is a pro ice skater. He is not allowed though, Hongo banned him, saying that he doesn't need any more stress in his life. He would like to have his hair stay blonde for at least a couple more years. -

Speaking of the duo stressing the hell out of the ship doctor; Lime Juice made a bet with Shanks once, that Shanks can't persuade the first mate to try skiing… A week later Hongo was the one who collected the money to buy a splint for Beckman´s broken leg and sprained wrist, while Shanks mopped around being scolded by the doctor.

So, all I am saying is: “Good luck, you will need it. And please give extra appreciation to the ship doctor, for making sure they survive the winter months, okay.”

#levy.writes #one piece hc #one piece headcanons #red hair pirates #red hair shanks #akagami no shanks #benn beckman #gender neutral reader #benn beckman x reader #red haired shanks x reader

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lostfracturess · 2 months

Note

okay i’ve loved s&c since i started reading it but my god…chapter 8 was seriously one of the best things i’ve read and has made me just insanely connected to this story. so pls excuse me if this ask is obnoxiously long i’ve got a lot to say 😭🤚🏼

first off lol i just need to get this off my chest but the SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER…IMMACULATE. I GOT TINGLES im so immune to smut since i’ve read sm of it but oh my godd when he said “fuck i cant hold back any longer. let me fuck you already or i’ll cum in my pants” I HAD BUTTERFLIES IN TWO DIFF PLACES FROM THAT🧍🏻‍♀️…also i like how realistic the sex feels,, like it genuinely reads like two adults in this sort of complicated relationship still desiring one another, mature & sexy yet classy at the same time? bravo seriously (also reader getting the lingerie hehehehrhrh)

the way you built the tension throughout the entire chapter regarding satoru’s super mysterious phone calls and his reluctance to share anything w reader. so wonderfully laced into all of the scenes, there was this sense of dread throughout that simmered even during the fluffy scenes and oof it was a wonderful but torturous feeling haha

speaking of fluff- when he keeps mentioning “love” and now marriage!! pls 😭 it came out of nowhere but i feel like his brazenness to say it so soon makes me believe that he really means it if that makes sense?? :”) one of my fave lines from the chapter was

“he was stating it as a fact, something that was a done deal…he’s simply been waiting for you to catch up.”

that has to be one of the most romantic things i’ve EVER read in my life. a chill legit ran through me haha like if that isn’t love!! 🥲 he knew since the beginning </3

thank you for clarifying the thought process behind reader’s doubts in herself. when she said something about how she wonders if she’s cut out for it…oof i felt that. imposter syndrome is SO damn real, especially in medicine, and my fave moment in the whole chapter is when satoru really steps up in that moment as a mentor and says “taking a break isn’t giving up” <3 i totally understand her push back though, it’s hard to shake insecurities built over years

and my god. satoru’s character. i know that he is so troubled and has made mistakes but my heart legitimately ached for him during that conversation with geto. this was the moment where i was like omg this story is something so special bc you tackle the sensitivity of topics such as drug abuse so fucking well.

i used to work at an emergency department and so often we would get patients rolling in w chief complaints of withdrawal, a LOT of the time young patients in their twenties, and it’s really heartbreaking to see because you can never ever fully understand the pain behind someone’s story or change the past, all you can do is try to help them and make them feel better in the present.

i feel so bad for satoru, seriously fuck sukuna for taking advantage of him like that omg give me two mins in a room w that mf and your story is gonna be missing one of its characters 😅

“walls up before anyone gets close, pushing people away because he’s convinced that deep down, he’s broken.”

siggghhh as someone with an avoidant attachment style i so relate to him. i really hope reader can show him the brighter things in life (i mean she’s definitely someone that makes him want to be a better man which is lovely), i look forward to seeing how he opens up more emotionally in the chapters to come.

im so sorry this is getting so fkn long but i simply cannot pass speaking up ab geto?? what an insanely emotionally intelligent character. the way he acts is so consistent, i looove how he’s recognized that maybe satoru’s relationship w reader, despite the forbidden aspects, is something more than just lust and is something deeper than that :”)

“there is no point, neither in life nor death. but you can either cry about the whole meaningless of the world or try to find meaning to it. to do something that gives meaning to life.”

talk about words that no longer feel like part of a story, but literally jump out of the page (err my phone screen? lol) and have you feel them in the reality of your own life. stunning, your writing is just amazing miss lostfractures

also curious if he got sued cuz he punched that student lol 🤔 or maybe it’s related to malpractice

ugh i’m so sorry this was so fucking long but it’s midnight for me rn and i just had so many thoughts while reading the chap i had to share 😭🤞🏼 thank you sm for this story, it goes without saying that i’m SO excited for more 💕💕💕

okay i have no idea where to start but first THANK YOU SO SO MUCH! i feel insanely grateful for you to take the time to write this message, really!!

i'm smiling and giggling like an idiot rn at work omg.

so so glad you like the SMUT, this is always the worst part to write, so i'm relieved it didn't read cringey and made you feel something (i laughed at your comment about the butterflies in TWO SPOTS omg).

can relate. ngl.

and yes the whole marriage part did came out of nowhere but i guess that's just so him, like he's so clumsy with feelings and don't know what to do with them so he's just really messy but also so adorable with it, idk!!! ahhhh

your reactions to the chapter make me SO SO happy, like really, that's all us writers want to achieve, right? to make the reader feel something. so glad i could stir something within you!! <333

& yes you never know what a person might have experienced in his past to it really comes down to being patient and understanding with people, but yeah satoru surely has an avoidant attachment, like SO SO BAD. and that can be so FRUSTRATING.

his past even gets worse in the next chapter, because apparently i can not NOT make him even more miserable.

haha the whole philosophical part at the end was mostly because i read a lot of camus and kafka lately lol. couldn't hold myself back, but i guess that mirrors satoru's existential crisis he goes through, that will be more highlighted in the next chapter.

but like at the same time, he needs someone to put him in his place and the reader is gladly accepting that and is like, I'M SO DONE WITH YOU, GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER MAN.

thank you so so much from the bottom of my heart for spending your precious time to read and write this message!! i really don't know how to phrase it how happy this makes me, just imagine myself smiling and crying like an idiot <33

#symptoms and causes #inbox

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dreamofbecoming · 2 years

Text

pale shadows of forgotten names

so people seem to be enjoying my writing lately, and i realized i never properly posted my first witcher fic on here when i first wrote it- i posted a link to the ao3, but i wasn’t super active in the fandom yet and i didn’t make it readable on tumblr. so i thought i would share it here now, in case anyone is interested, and because it’s nice to have all my writing together in my tag on here

pls note i knew even less about the non-netflix canon then than i do now, so everything about spying is just made up lmao

ao3

geraskier, post-s2, getting together

rating: t

wc: 13k

“Might be best if I stay out of Redania for a while, actually.”

“If you get arrested, I’ll just break you out again. There’s a book there I need, the copy in Kaer Morhen’s library was destroyed. Vesemir said he knew someone in Oxenfurt who might be able to get his hands on one.” Geralt’s tone, as usual, leaves very little room for argument. Luckily, Jaskier has never needed much room when it comes to arguing. Certainly not with Geralt.

“It’s not just that, I really shouldn’t get close to Tretogor anytime soon, either. Especially with Ciri being hunted by half the Continent.” He’s hoping desperately that they won’t ask why, but who is he kidding. His luck is never that good.

“And why, exactly, is Tretogor a problem? Not that we would want to parade around a capital city regardless, but I’m curious. Oxenfurt I get, they’ll be looking for the Sandpiper, I’m sure, or at least the twit that broke out of their jail, but what’s in Tretogor?”

Damn the fucking witch, always too perceptive for her own good. And to think he was almost starting to like her. Well, at least the familiarity of wanting to claw her eyes out is comforting.

Jaskier sighs. He should probably be honest with them if they’re going to travel together, though who knows how long that state of affairs will last this time. Still, he’s not going to risk Ciri. He’d have kept his silence if it were just Geralt and the witch- he already has, in fact, and it worked for nearly 20 years, after all- but Ciri is precious cargo. The rules have changed.

Plus, Yen could probably just read his mind now that she has her magic back. Fucking sorceresses.

Speaking of, “Alright, but not here,” he sighs. “Wait until we make camp and Yen can set up wards or silencing spells or something.” He hasn’t noticed any white owls following them, but she’s always been good at avoiding being seen. That’s sort of the point, he supposes.

“Who do we need wards from, Jaskier? Are you being followed? Should I have left you behind? Did I put Ciri in danger by trusting you?” Geralt’s voice is hard, and Jaskier feels hurt pool in his belly for a moment before cold anger takes its place again.

“Considering I just traipsed halfway across the continent and back, no questions asked, and nearly died trying to help stop a fucking demon from killing her, what the fuck do you think, Geralt? I’ll remind you that only one of us has known and loved her since she was small. Do you really believe I would do that to her? To you?” And maybe that last bit wasn’t really meant to come out, certainly not in that small, sad little voice, but Jaskier is nothing if not a master of pushing through slip ups and missed lines. He’s a goddamn professional. He doesn’t let his expression change where he’s glaring up at Geralt’s stupid, angry, handsome face. Fucker.

He’s traveled with Geralt a long time. Almost a quarter century, on and off (including this last year, which was most decidedly off), more than half of that physically by his side. He knows the Witcher’s face better than he knows his own, and he can predict Geralt’s reaction in almost any scenario you care to name. A perceived threat met with scorn will make him double down on his anger, almost guaranteed. Jaskier knew this going in, but he didn’t spend half a year belting his rage and betrayal to every student and passing traveler in a hundred miles (not to even mention the whole ‘living through a massacre’ thing) to be cowed by Geralt’s glower now, no matter how distressingly sexy it may or may not still be. Or how it maybe still makes his stomach twist with something sick and anxious at the idea of having disappointed him. Again. Fuck that. Geralt has no right to be disappointed in him, not this time.

So naturally he’s a little shocked when, after a few more seconds of unreasonably attractive scowling, Geralt, improbably, backs down.

He heaves a sigh where’s he’s perched on (new) Roach, a sleeping Ciri safely ensconced in his arms on the saddle in front of him. His eyes fall shut for a moment, and when they open, the cold fury is gone, replaced with something that looks a lot like…regret? Sadness? It’s hard to tell in the dark, but regardless, the air of melancholy around him right now is out of character for this particular situation, and extremely disconcerting. Jaskier is definitely disconcerted.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Jaskier. I do trust you. There’s a cave not far from here, it shouldn’t be too hard to secure. We can make camp soon.”

Was that…an apology? An actual, genuine expression of remorse, unprompted and freely given? He pokes Geralt’s upsettingly firm calf, staring incredulously.

“Are you really Geralt? Do I need to check you with silver or something? Yen, read his mind. Is he some kind of Doppler? Is this actually our Witcher?”

Geralt’s face is flatly unamused, and he kicks out to swat Jaskier’s hand away. Luckily, Jaskier has decades of practice avoiding Witcher speed for annoyance purposes, and pulls his hand back before Geralt can accidentally break his fingers or something. At least, he thinks it would be accidental. Probably.

Atop her borrowed mare, curtesy of Kaer Morhen’s surprisingly impressive herd, Yen raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at Geralt’s obvious irritation. “It’s a fair question, Geralt. Immediate, unsolicited apologies for bad behavior are not exactly your brand.” Jaskier is grudgingly impressed that she manages to keep the arch look on her face despite his current frigid distance from her. Apparently they’re not back to mutual teasing levels of familiarity yet, though he’s sure it will only be a matter of time before they’re back to forgetting he’s there mid-sentence to go fuck like stupidly attractive, scary, powerful rabbits. Won’t that be fun to live through again.

Geralt glares harder. Jaskier can’t actually see his face well enough to be sure, but he can always feel when Geralt is glaring, and the angry face quotient in the air definitely goes up a few degrees.

“Cave’s just up here. Jaskier, start setting up camp. Yen, wards. I’ll get Ciri and the horses settled and find something for supper.” He nudges Roach’s flanks and pulls ahead, aiming for a little gap in the trees near a rocky outcropping Jaskier can just barely make out in the scant moonlight. Conversation over then, at least for now.

Yen looks vaguely affronted. “Is it always like this? Traveling with him?”

“What, the glowering? Or the barked orders and being left behind?” If perhaps those words are a touch more bitter than they would have been a year and a half ago, well. That’s no one’s business but his own.

“Both, I suppose? The time I’ve spent with him has rarely been on the road, but he’s never been quite so…demanding. We didn’t exactly do much talking on the way to Kaer Morhen. I’m quite sure he would happily have killed me, or at least have been actively trying to shake me and leave me in the dust, if he hadn’t been so focused on getting to Ciri as quickly as possible.” There’s something brittle and harsh in her tone that feels uncomfortably familiar. It’s far too much like the heavy weight in his ribcage these days, sharp-edged and desperate and miserable.

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!” The hurt and dread freezing his blood in his veins, ice cold and inexorable. The awful silence, waiting for him to take it back, to laugh, to say it was all a horrible joke, or even a dream. The yawning pit of heartbreak and despair that started to rend his chest open, as the reality set in that this was actually it, actually the end, after everything-

Nope. No. Absolutely not. He is done with that, thank you. He is quite finished reliving that moment again and again (and again), he has put it behind him, he is a different man now. A stronger man. A man who won’t betray the loyalty he promised so long ago, but who refuses to let his heart back into the mix this time. He wrote a song about it and everything.

Funny how he almost believes it.

“Oh, I’m sure he was always far more…solicitous with you, darling. This is pretty much standard. The apology is new, and I’m a little surprised he’s letting me set up camp unsupervised,” (this is said with an impressively deep eye-roll, of course), “but besides that, yeah.”

He should be offended that he’s surprised to be given that responsibility, probably. He’s actually a remarkably competent traveler, both with company and without, but even towards the end it rarely occurred to Geralt that Jaskier managed to survive by himself for months or years at a time, or that the camp ended up much the same as it started even when he felt the need to redo all of Jaskier’s work, or that he wasn’t the one cooking the food he hunted or patching his own wounds when Jaskier was around. Not even the handful of times their camp was targeted by bandits, and several of them were already dead by the time Geralt got to them, seemed to register. Or all the times he came back addled and injured from a hunt, and Jaskier knew exactly which potions he needed to recover, and where to find them. Jaskier isn’t sure the great White Wolf ever even noticed a difference. He’s once again a little amazed that it took him so long to see it, that those furious words on the mountaintop actually managed to catch him by surprise. Love really is blind, he supposes.

The cave isn’t huge, but there’s enough room for four bedrolls and a small fire pit without having to snuggle up too close to each other, and it’s dry and lacking in horrid smells or angry monsters, so Jaskier has definitely seen worse.

Roach is tied near the cave entrance, under a small overhang jutting out from the rock to provide her some shelter from the elements. He wants to ask what happened to the old Roach, his- well. Not his Roach anymore, he supposes, not for a while, but he was still fond of her. It had taken years to win her over, but they were good friends by the end, he thought. Certainly she was freer with her affection than her rider. (Which, he realizes now, probably had more to do with his dearth of affection actually available than with his crushing emotional incompetence.) It isn’t really his place to ask, not anymore, but he wishes he could. New Roach is fine, she’s admittedly beautiful and probably a lovely animal, but he misses his friend.

Jaskier has the camp fully set up and a small fire going, near enough to the entrance not to fill the cave with smoke, but far enough inside so as not to be easily seen, and Yen has left her mount next to Roach, filled their waterskins, and is finishing up with the last of the wards shielding them from being found or overheard, when Geralt returns bearing…an entire deer. Fucking overachieving cockhead. He’s cleaning that shit himself, Jaskier isn’t interested. It definitely isn’t sexy seeing Geralt stride in, slightly blood-spattered, biceps bulging, thighs flexing, evidence of his prowess slung easily over his shoulders like a king’s mantle…nope. Not sexy at all. Jaskier isn’t even looking. He certainly isn’t biting back an embarrassing whimper.

He turns around hastily to begin rummaging through his pack for his spices and cooking supplies, filched from Kaer Morhen, of course, since all he had on him when Geralt found him in Oxenfurt was his charm and good looks. He wishes he had his lute, but it’s probably in pieces, rotting in a rubbish heap in Redania. He’ll mourn her at some point. Besides, he’s not sure he would be able to stop himself playing Burn, Butcher, Burn just on reflex, so it’s probably for the best.

They eat a decent supper of venison stew, Ciri waking just long enough to scarf down a bowl and collapse back onto her bedroll. Demon possession and Sphere-jumping really seem to take it out of a person.

Yen tosses another silencing charm around Ciri’s bedroll (they’ll fill her in tomorrow- they don’t intend to keep secrets from her but she deserves her sleep) and Geralt gets to work packing the leftover venison in salt for the road, before they both look up at him expectantly with eerily similar, piercing gazes. Violet and gold, a royal combination if ever there was one. Oh, that’s nice actually, there’s a song in there somewhere. Not one he wants to sing, really, but he’ll probably end up writing it at some point anyway.

“Alright, sharing time, I guess. Always figured this was coming eventually. Not that I imagined anything like this, what with the demons and the horrible rock monsters and the dimension hopping and- yes, yes, alright, I’m getting to it. Calm down.” He heaves a sigh. Hopefully they don’t toss him out on his arse after this, or just kill him. He doesn’t think they’d kill him. Would they? No, they wouldn’t. Probably.

“So you know I’m technically Redanian.” Yennefer nods expectantly while Geralt just. Blinks at him. Fucking gods, honestly. “Wow, ok, you really never paid attention at all when I talked, huh? That makes sense, actually. I guess I should have figured that.” He’s staring into the fire to shield the hurt in his eyes, so he misses the matching look on Geralt’s face before he presses on.

“Anyway, yeah, I’m Redanian, from Kerack, Lettenhove to be specific. Seriously? I’ve introduced myself to a dozen people in front of you with my full name, you really never- ok, yeah, right, never mind. Moving on. Julian Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. That’s me. Or, it was. Technically it still is, but I never wanted the title. I never wanted that life. I left for Oxenfurt as soon as I was old enough, and when I graduated I went on the road, and then. Well. Then I met you, and, well, you know. You were there. For the rest. Some of it, anyway. Right. Well, Vizimir, or more likely someone on his council, since Vizimir is about as savvy and creative as a garden slug, and almost as charming, and I’m not sure if Dijkstra was advising him at that point-“ He catches Yennefer’s sharp look at Dijkstra’s name, but barrels on, “-anyway, someone noticed that a minor Redanian noble was doing a lot of very visible traveling all over the Continent and associating with a lot of people the Crown wouldn’t normally have an in with, and figured that would be useful. I think at this point, we’d been traveling together…2? 3 years? Something like that. Long enough that I’d started building a name for myself, definitely. Or, for us, I suppose. That’s why they noticed me in the first place.”

He knows he’s babbling, but there are nerves roiling in his gut like a cauldron, and that feeling has always translated into more words, for him. Like a pressure valve. He pauses and risks a glance at the person whose reaction he’s genuinely worried about.

Yen will understand, she’s been in and out of courts and noble circles and political tangles for decades, she knows how this works. She probably won’t trust him, but he’s fairly sure she doesn’t trust him now, so that’s no great loss. He doesn’t trust her either.

Geralt has a more…rigid concept of morality. In Geralt’s world, there are Right Things and Wrong Things. Sometimes you have to do Wrong Things to prevent Wronger Things, but that doesn’t make them not Wrong. And anything to do with kings and courts is usually Wrong. There’s a good chance Geralt might never forgive him for this, or if he does, he won’t be able to look past Jaskier keeping it from him so long.

Geralt’s eyes are fixed on his face, sharp and intent, and utterly unreadable. Jaskier thought he had gotten pretty good over the years at reading the subtle shifts in Geralt’s expressions- the tiny crinkles around his eyes when he wanted to laugh, the minute furrow between his brows when he was confused, the slight tick in his jaw when he was frustrated- but his face is as blank as new parchment right now, nothing but the glint in his golden eyes that says he’s listening to every word out of Jaskier’s mouth.

What a time for him to start doing that, he thinks bitterly. Decades of tuning him out when he thought they were friends, and now that Jaskier might be driving him away for good (again, a tiny voice whispers viciously), he’s hanging on every syllable.

“I was approached by a member of the royal intelligence service, and told that the king had ordered that I be recruited as a spy. Technically I am still nobility, and as such I’m obligated to obey the crown. And while I would gladly give up all the trappings of my title and never be anyone but Jaskier the bard ever again, at the time there would have been serious consequences for refusing, and not the kind that would fall on me. I’m technically a Lord, and I do have people I’m responsible for. I left people in charge that I trust to take care of them in my stead, but it’s my name they’re working under. And if I refused a direct order from Vizimir, I wouldn’t be the one to suffer for it. It wasn’t an option.”

He doesn’t look up from the fire. He doesn’t want to see the expressions on their faces, so he presses on, heart thumping wildly in his chest.

“I did my best to keep my reports…not vague, exactly, but mostly useless, I guess? Obviously I have no interest in being a part of whatever bullshit Vizimir or any other king feels like stirring up, but I had to send them something. Little stuff, mostly, frivolous gossip from the taverns I played in, details of drama and rivalries I picked up in various courts or nobles’ beds. Sometimes accounts of monster populations or incidents if there was anything especially notable, since they knew that’s a lot of what I was doing with my time. Nothing actionable, but useful enough that I couldn’t be accused of shirking my duties.” He’s suddenly struck with an awful fear, and he looks up desperately into slitted golden eyes. “I never said a word about Ciri, Geralt, you have to believe me. I told them about that night, and I had to mention that Pavetta had magic because there’s no way that wouldn’t get out some other way, but I never said a word about a Witcher claiming a Child Surprise. I would never risk her like that, or you, you have to believe me. Please say you believe me Geralt, whatever you think of me, that I would never betray you like that. Please.”

He knows he sounds frantic, that he must look insane, that he can’t stop his begging mouth like a runaway cart, but the thought of Geralt thinking even for a second that Jaskier would ever put orders from a king he cared nothing for over Geralt’s own life, over the life of a child, is a knife in his gut, twisting and pulling until Jaskier thinks he might vomit if Geralt doesn’t say something.

The blank expression is gone, and Geralt looks somewhat taken aback. His brow furrows a little in what looks like confusion, before settling into resignation, or maybe chagrin. Jaskier thinks for a moment that he sees a brief flash of what almost looks like…grief? That can’t be right…in his eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it appeared, and Jaskier thinks he must have imagined it.

Geralt takes a swig from his waterskin and draws in a deep breath before speaking.

“I wasn’t worried that you betrayed Ciri, Jaskier. I know you would cut off your own arm before you did something like that. I don’t love where it sounds like this story is going, but I promise, I’ll never be concerned about that.”

That’s…well, those are more words than he was expecting, surely. And different words than he was expecting, too. He would assume that Geralt is placating him, to calm him down and get him to finish talking, but he can hear the sincerity in his voice. Geralt’s eyes are almost imploring, as if he’s as anxious for Jaskier to believe him as Jaskier had been to be believed. He…isn’t sure what to do with that, actually.

He knows Geralt came back for him, knows he was at least not lying when he said he missed him (though how much is anyone’s guess), knows he trusts him to travel with his…his little family, to help keep them safe or at least not make things worse, but he never assumed it went beyond that.

Geralt was clear, on that mountain. Even if he’s sorry now, even if he missed having him around, he meant those words at the time, and Jaskier has no illusions that he won’t get to that point again. Geralt may have spat those words in helpless anger, may have turned his ire on someone who had nothing to do with the state he was in at that moment, but Geralt doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. He says plenty of things he regrets, but he always means them at the time. He did, at one point, believe Jaskier to be a curse and a burden, and Jaskier is fully aware that he will come to that belief again, eventually.

He knows what that particular heartbreak feels like, now. He knows he can survive it, even if he wishes he wouldn’t, sometimes. Mostly, he knows that it will always, always be worth it. Geralt will always be worth it.

Gods but he’s a lovesick fool.

But now, instead of cold distain, or fiery wrath, or, worst of all, blank indifference, Geralt is looking at him like…like he’s sorry. Like he’s desperate for Jaskier’s forgiveness. Forgiveness for what? Jaskier is the one who hid the fact that he was a spy for most of their relatio- friendship. Acquaintanceship. Association. Whichever one wouldn’t piss Geralt off. Geralt hasn’t fucked up here, this time at least.

But he could never resist when Geralt asked him like this for anything, with genuine emotion instead grunted contempt, with even the vaguest hint of affection, like maybe Geralt enjoyed spending time with Jaskier, too. Like maybe Jaskier mattered to Geralt, at least a fraction of how much Geralt mattered to Jaskier. Gods above, he’s so weak for this man.

“Ok. Alright, good. That’s good. I’m glad. Thank you. I know I- anyway. Thank you. Right, where was I? Yes, ok, reports. So I kept myself mostly useless for pretty much the whole time we were together. I mean- not. Not together, obviously, but traveling together. As friends. Or not friends. Whatever. What was I saying?” He’s spiraling, fuck, he’s spiraling, he needs to get out of this, how does he get out of this?

Geralt is looking even more confused than before, but Yennefer is definitely laughing at him in her head. Witch. Like she isn’t just as much of a mess for him. She should be on his side! They bonded over this already and everything!

At least the indignation is enough for him to pull out of the whirlpool of awkward babble and self-sabotage he was trapped in, and he manages to right himself.

“Anyway! Ok! So! Right, well, things changed not quite a year ago, now, after the raid on Bleobheris.” He sobers at the memories, the scent of blood and the sound of screams suddenly heavy in the dry air of the cave. “It was…brutal. I’ve never seen anything like that, not in all my years Witchering with you. I wanted to help. I needed to do something, to…fix something. Anything, no matter how small. That’s when I was contacted by an anonymous benefactor, who offered to fund an effort to smuggle refugees to Xin’Trea. Word had spread about Nilfgaard’s alliance with the elves, that they could be safe there.”

“So the Sandpiper was born,” Yennefer says.

“Right. But I don’t like not knowing where my help is coming from and why. I may not have been a very useful spy in Redania’s eyes for the last 20 years, but it actually takes quite a bit of effort to be ineffective without being useless enough to fire or kill, and as it turns out, I’m actually quite good at it. Call it the performer’s heart in me, or something. So I was able to ferret out that the man behind the money was Sigismund Dijkstra, who had managed to get himself appointed spymaster to Vizimir, which, interestingly, made him my employer, as well as my benefactor.”

Yen looks up sharply again at Dijkstra’s name. Jaskier turns to her, curious.

“You’re familiar, I assume?”

“He’s been causing rifts at Aretuza, riling up the Brotherhood,” she says, brow furrowed. “Pretending to bring counsel and information but really just sowing discord. I’m not clear on the details, but I know elves were mentioned. There are those on the council who take issue with my heritage, so I try to keep on top of the rumors. I wasn’t at Aretuza for long, though, and I…didn’t exactly leave on good terms. I haven’t got many friends left there.” Geralt glances at her sympathetically.

Jaskier nods. “That sounds like him. I wouldn’t trust that man to clean my privy, much less provide thousands of crowns, probably from Vizimir’s coffers, for a worthy cause with no expectations of repayment.” He shakes his head. “I kept my suspicions to myself, though, the network needed the coin and regardless of his motivations, we really were helping people. I wasn’t going to let that go to waste.

“I guess, with me finally settling in one place for so long, and probably Dijkstra feeling like I owed him for the funding, even though I wasn’t meant to know it was him, they started expecting more from me, in terms of intelligence. I didn’t really have a choice, since now they always knew where to find me if they wanted to cause me problems, and besides, Dijkstra was already privy to the network’s efforts anyway as the main benefactor, so I figured it was mostly alright that I’ve had to give more…comprehensive reports to Vizimir the last several months.

“Since Cintra fell, most people know about Ciri, or at least that she’s on the game-board somehow. There are rumors of Nilfgaard searching for a Witcher, so I’m sure some people have put together that you’re involved somehow, but I don’t think too many of the courts, at least, have details. Just that Nilfgaard wants her and maybe there’s a Witcher involved. I made sure not to include too much information that they didn’t already have, but I can’t say for sure what every Northern king knows, or what the Brotherhood knows.” He glances at Yen, who shakes her head and shrugs.

“Anyway, so that’s the meat of it. The concern is that since I became an actual useful asset for them, they’ve been keeping a much closer eye on me. That’s why I was worried about the wards.”

“Alright, I can understand all of that,” Geralt cuts in. “I don’t like that you kept it from me, but I can’t fault your choices. You’re right that we can’t have them sniffing around you, not with Ciri in your orbit.” He frowns. “Would it be possible for you just…fall off the map? Disappear? Redania can’t demand anything from a missing viscount.”

Jaskier winces a little. “I would love to do that, the problem being that Dijkstra works closely with Tretogor’s court mage, who has the charming little talent of transforming into a bird whenever she wants.”

Yen’s eyebrows both go up this time. “Phillipa? She’s quite impressive. A little too entrenched in political intrigue for my taste, but I can’t deny she’s talented. Tissaia speaks very highly of her, certainly.”

She looks thoughtful as she gazes at him over the fire. “You’re worried she’s following you, then? For information on Geralt, since everyone knows Jaskier the Bard is the man to talk to if you want to know about Witchers.”

Her tone is…teasing? Is she teasing him? First hugging, and now teasing? Yeah, he’s not dealing with that right now. He sticks out his tongue at her (he does still have a bantering streak to uphold, after all) before nodding.

“I don’t know for sure if she was in Oxenfurt when Geralt broke me out. I don’t think so, but I certainly wasn’t combing every tree for owls, and there’s no chance of me noticing her out here in the woods. I’m just hoping that if she were around now, you’d sense her, Yen, and that she wasn’t able to bring back anything about Ciri or Geralt or Kaer Morhen to Dijkstra. Or you, either, since the Brotherhood are so unhappy with you.”

Yen looks surprised and very slightly pleased to be included in Jaskier’s concern. Or at least Jaskier thinks that’s the expression he can parse under her normal very scary murder face, which he finds is almost a relief to see. The soft regret and concern of recent weeks has been…unsettling. The sun rises, the rain falls, Yennefer of Vengerberg is gorgeous, aloof, and terrifying. This is the natural order.

Geralt is wearing a pensive expression, frowning slightly at where Ciri lies, sleeping peacefully. Dear girl, Jaskier hopes she isn’t having any nightmares. She’s been through hell lately, and she’s always had trouble sleeping anyway. Jaskier wonders if he can find the name of that tea Mousesack used to give her to help her sleep. Jaskier even tried it once or twice, when winter nights in Cintra without his Witcher’s soft, even breaths became too much; the stuff worked wonders.

“Alright,” he says eventually, nodding. “I’ll see if I can go to Redania myself, and leave you two with Ciri until I can get back. We’ll keep our campsites warded if we can, Yen, I don’t want you to wear yourself out, but some protection would probably be best. Are you able to see if you can sense anyone from here, or do you need to go outside the wards?”

“I’ll do a lap around the area, but there’s a chance anyone who is out there will sense me as soon as I start casting about. It would be best if you all stayed here, to protect Ciri in case someone actually has come for her.”

“I don’t like any of us going out alone, Yen, especially with the express intention of seeking out danger. I should go with you.” Geralt makes to stand and grab his swords from beside his seat, but Yennefer waves him back down.

“You’d only distract me, and besides, do you want to leave the totally untrained sorceress and the normal human alone here?” Jaskier makes an affronted squawking noise.

“Hey! I’m plenty competent, thank you!” He prudently ignores the minor inaccuracy of his humanity, and instead huffs at the matching incredulous looks he receives. “Rude. Honestly, I get no respect around here. I survived just fine on my own for years, you know! Besides, I traveled with a reckless idiot Witcher for 20 years, you pick up more than you’d think.” He glares at them both until Yen smirks and Geralt looks baffled and vaguely offended, but at least they both look away, which is an improvement.

Until the two of them end up in a stare off, clearly having some sort of emphatic conversation with their eyes alone, and Jaskier has to turn away to start putting away the cooking supplies they won’t need for breakfast tomorrow. He’s warming up to Yennefer, much to his chagrin, but he’s had quite enough of watching the man he loves eyefuck someone else, for this lifetime and the next, thanks ever so.

He hears Geralt huff, a sound he recognizes as him realizing whoever he’s arguing with is just going to do as they please anyway, and he might as well make the best of it.

He made that sound at Jaskier a lot. Usually when he talked his way into coming along on hunts, but really any time Jaskier wanted something from him beyond some seared rabbit, a fire to sleep beside, and monosyllabic grunts in response to questions (if he was lucky)- a night at an inn, a stop at a local festival, an actual hot bath with herbs and flowers and scented oils. Arms to hold him on especially cold nights, when blankets weren’t enough to warm (mostly) human skin.

Jaskier used to think it was cute. A game, just for the two of them, Jaskier pushing, Geralt pulling, or the other way around, always meeting in the middle (or, more often, closer to Jaskier’s side) with what Jaskier had always assumed was mutual amusement and affection. He knows better now.

There’s the telltale swish of Yennefer’s skirts, a strange popping sensation in his ears, and then the feeling of the wards coming back up behind her.

The silencing spell around Ciri is still up, as far as he knows, and she’s dead to the world besides, so it’s just him and Geralt now.

It isn’t the first time they’ve been alone since Oxenfurt, but it is the first time since Jaskier was invited (by Ciri, it should be noted, not Geralt) to travel with them as a companion, not as backup.

That one still stings, if he’s honest. He held out hope for months that Geralt would come back for him, would seek him out with a stuttered apology (or more likely a silently offered ale and an invitation to come with him to his next hunt). Maybe at a tavern, or the Seat of Friendship, or even a ball or musical competition where Jaskier was playing. He knows how much Geralt hates getting dressed up, how much it would have meant for him to go to that effort just to see Jaskier.

He imagined seeing him sitting silently in the back of one of his lectures one day, watching the lesson with quiet affection and waiting for him to be finished so they could talk. Imagined hearing the sound of Roach’s hooves coming up behind him on some backroad to nowhere while he strummed his lute in the sunshine.

He imagined a thousand different reunions, a thousand apologies, a thousand ways for them to turn back the clock. (During some of the longer nights, when he was alone in his rooms staring out at the moon through the window, wondering if Geralt was lying on his bedroll in a forest clearing somewhere staring up at the same moon, he imagined a thousand different love confessions. But he has no intention of admitting that to anyone but his own foolish heart. He may be a bard, and a hopeless romantic, but there’s no need to bare all of his weeping wounds, especially when there’s no hope of healing them.)

For all his daydreaming, he never imagined that Geralt would seek him out only when he needed an extra set of hands and all his other options were exhausted. Never imagined he would be not just a tool to be used, but the last resort as well.

He shouldn’t be surprised, after everything, but the knowledge that he was never really anything else to Geralt still aches like a broken rib, flashes of pain shooting through his chest with every inhale.

This is the first time they’ve been alone together without an immediate crisis, without a clearly defined mission beyond the open road, just like it used to be.

Except nothing like it used to be, because how it used to be is gone. It will never be that way again. Geralt burned those memories down, with words as sharp as swords and as destructive as dragon fire.

Jaskier has no fucking idea how to deal with this.

“Jas-“ Geralt cuts off and clears his throat. Jaskier can hear him gulping from his waterskin before trying again. “Jaskier.”

“Yes?” He tries to keep his voice light, but he doesn’t turn around.

“Jaskier, can we. Can we talk? Please?”

It’s the ‘please’ that does it. Geralt so rarely says please. Jaskier may need more than his fingers to count the times he’s heard it directed at him, but he can still remember each one in perfect clarity. Besides, they had more than 20 years together, “more than 10” is still not exactly a stellar ratio.

Jaskier’s resolve breaks (did he ever really have any? Has he ever had any when it comes to this man?) and he turns, schooling his face into something meant to look bright and open. He’s not sure how well it works. “Of course, Geralt. What’s on your mind?”

“I-“ Geralt looks…lost. He looks like he has absolutely no idea how to get where he’s going, and it’s killing him. Jaskier crumbles.

“You’ve already apologized, Geralt, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve forgiven you. You were angry, you needed a target, I was there. It’s behind us.” He looks at the fire, for lack of anything else that isn’t Geralt’s stupid awful gorgeous face, wishing desperately he had his lute. He never felt awkward with his lute. Never rubbed anxious circles around his calluses for lack of anything to do with his hands. Never sat in a silence so painful he wondered if his ears would bleed.

Geralt lets out a breath like he’s trying to remember how. “That’s not. I mean it is. But. I. Fuck.” Jaskier looks up from the fire to see him scrubbing a hand through his hair in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. The adorable fool manages to get his hand tangled in the locks when he forgets about the band holding half of it back from his face.

“Oh for Melitele’s sake- stop moving, you lug, I’ll fix it. You’re going to tear it out in chunks if you keep pulling like that, just hold still, or I’ll have to rewrite all the songs to be about The Bald Wolf instead. Ye gods, Geralt, how did you survive without me? Honestly.” He’s across the cave and kneeling behind Geralt on the other side of the fire before he consciously registers the decision to move. Fucking hells, even his own body is against him.

He has his hands in Geralt’s (soft, silky, gorgeous) hair, untangling it gently from where it’s wound itself tightly around his (scarred, strong, beautiful) fingers. He thinks he hears Geralt’s breath catch, but he’s too distracted trying to keep his own lungs working at all to focus on it.

Once Geralt’s hand is free (and does Geralt seem as reluctant to let go and put his hand back in his lap as Jaskier is to let him?) Jaskier sets to work on the much more finicky task of removing the band without pulling half of Geralt’s hair out with it, which would honestly be a crime against…well, anyone with eyes really. Jaskier may be in love with him, but he’s also seen a truly exorbitant number of beautiful people across the continent, many of them naked, so he thinks he’s fairly qualified when he says that Geralt is one of the most singularly stunning people on the face of the earth, bias or not. Especially now that he seems to be taking better care of his hair than he used to when Jaskier wasn’t around.

Jaskier is actually rather shocked at how well-kept Geralt is. His hair is smooth and soft and clean, and smells like…is that apple blossom? That’s one of Jaskier’s favorite scents. It never fails to make him feel light and warm, like spring sunshine. He uses it in his own hair more often than the other oils he carries.

Back when washing Geralt’s hair for him was an occasional but deeply treasured privilege of his, Jaskier used to use it for him, as well. That Geralt has somehow, for some reason, gotten some of his own to use during their separation…it makes something warm and fragile stir in Jaskier’s chest. Warm and fragile and dangerous. Hope is easily crushed, and when it is, it takes everything else down with it. Jaskier isn’t doing that again. Not so soon.

He finishes detaching the tie as efficiently as he can, and hands it over Geralt’s shoulder before sitting back on his heels and exhaling violently.

“There you are darling, all fixed. Now,-“

“I didn’t.” Geralt interrupts him, whisper quiet but still somehow deafening over the crackling fire.

“What?”

“Survive without you. I didn’t. Or, I guess I should say I did, but that’s all I did.”

Jaskier has, for once, absolutely no idea what to say, so he tries something new, and says nothing. He’s barely even sure he’s breathing, staring at the back of Geralt’s head and all his moonlit hair like he’s staring into the jaws of a barghest as he waits to see if he will continue.

He does, words falling out of him in a rush like a river pouring through a broken dam, desperate in a way Jaskier has never heard him before.

“I knew I’d fucked up, on the mountain. As soon as the words were out of my mouth I knew it. It’s like. It’s like I was a bottle of juice, gone off, going ranker and ranker until the cork flies right out and takes someone’s eye out. I thought I was angry at Borch, at Yen, at Calanthe, at fucking Destiny, at everything. Even you, who hadn’t done one thing wrong. But really it was just me. I was just angry at myself, and there’s. There’s not. There isn’t anywhere for that kind of anger to go. It just builds up and up and up until it explodes, and you with it, and I knew I was going to let it out at someone. And then you were there, and you were trying to help. Like always. You always help. You make everything better, like you were just trying to make me feel better. But I was so angry, and it was all my fault, it was all my stupid selfish choices, the djinn, the wish, Ciri, all of it my fault, and I didn’t deserve to feel better. I didn’t deserve it and I had to make you stop and so. I did. I did it on purpose. I did it because I knew that was the thing to say that would hurt you the most. That would make me a monster like I know I am. Monsters are easy. Easier than mistakes and bad choices. So I made another bad choice and hurt someone else and decided to be a monster.”

There might be tears streaming down Jaskier’s face, but he can’t tell because he can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t hear anything but the rushing in his ears and Geralt’s voice ripping into him with savage, gentle claws.

“Once Yen was gone- It’s hard to think with her around, sometimes. It’s the wish, I think. Everything else gets duller, quieter, a little out of focus. Like in a dream when the only thing you can see clearly is the person you know the dream is about, the person you’re supposed to talk to.” Oh this…this is actually torture. Geralt might actually be killing him because he still can’t fucking breathe and he just keeps talking.

“It’s better now. Maybe it’s Ciri, my Destiny is split between them now so it’s not so overwhelming. Or maybe Ciri is her Destiny too, and now that we’ll always have her, the both of us, the wish doesn’t need to force us to be in love for us to stay nearby. I don’t know. It’s easier now, though. And even easier when you’re here.”

Wait, what? Now Jaskier knows he’s dead, or dying, or hallucinating, or something, because there’s no way that means what he wants it to mean.

“After Yen left, my head started to clear. Things came back into focus. I realized what I’d done, but suddenly I could also see that it wasn’t just what I yelled at you. It was so much more, so much deeper. I had been so awful to you, for so long, and you just. Took it. All of it. Everything I had, all my anger and my fear and my loneliness. You just let me. You always came back. You kept choosing me, even when I was cruel. I was ashamed, but I also thought…” He breaks off with a great shuddering breath, his head hanging.

Jaskier feels a little like he’s floating. Like he can see his body, kneeling there in the dirt behind Geralt, staring at his sculpted shoulderblades with a blind, devastated look on his tear-streaked face. How odd.

Geralt, somehow, impossibly, keeps going. This is more words than Jaskier has heard him say in the last two decades. This is more words than he knew Geralt was capable of saying. Where are all these words coming from?

It’s like all this time, he had been saving these. Stockpiling them, though for what Jaskier can’t begin to guess. A rainy day? An emergency? This? And now the doors of the granary have come loose and the winter stores are flooding the yard and Jaskier thinks he might end up buried alive.

“I thought you’d come back.” Geralt’s voice is thicker, somehow, and oh, gods, is he crying? “I thought you would come back, like before, like always, and it would be ok. And I would try to be better. I would try to be the man you thought I was. And it would be ok. But you-“ He cuts off with another great shuddering breath, and seems to center himself. “You didn’t come back. And that’s when I realized I had finally gone too far.”

Jaskier has been trying to process all of these many, many, many, mostly incomprehensible words, and he’s maybe fallen a little bit behind, because he hears himself cut in with an incredulous “Wait, are you saying that every time you were rude or dismissive to me, it wasn’t just because you don’t know how to conduct yourself in a normal friendship because you’ve never had one, but actually because you knew you were being cruel and you knew you could get away with it because I would always come back?”

Geralt’s head hangs even lower, and Jaskier has to strain to hear his gravelly whispered reply.

“Yes. Maybe not consciously, or in so many words, but yes.”

Jaskier flounders for a moment, wounds he spent the last year trying to close tearing back open even wider than before.

“All this time? You thought so little of me, all this time? I was just a- a- a practice dummy? Something that won’t fight back or feel pain, so you can hit it has hard or as many times as you want?” His voice began at a whisper, to match Geralt’s, but has gotten steadily louder and more tear-filled the more he speaks.

“No, that isn’t-“

“I can’t- I’m not- I need a moment. Please, Geralt I need- Please.” He can’t keep sitting this close to him, feeling his body heat just as warm as the fire he’s blocking Jaskier from, can’t keep listening to his low rumbling voice, like thunder and gravel and home, like a silver sword through the midsection. Not when the pain and the anger and the hope are all bleeding together and he doesn’t know how to feel them properly and he still can’t fucking breathe.

Geralt’s breath hitches, a tiny little wisp of sound, and Jaskier is going to fucking lose it.

“Please, Geralt.” It comes out in a broken whisper, which is more revealing than Jaskier was hoping, but it’s not like he’s managed to hide anything anyway, so it hardly matters.

Geralt nods, back still to Jaskier in front of the fire, and stands smoothly to walk over to a corner near the entrance, where he can see all four bedrolls and the cave mouth clearly. Ready to protect. Always ready to defend. He sinks to his knees and his breathing takes on the familiar cadence of meditation.

Jaskier takes a moment to look at him. At the way his hands are clutched a little tighter on his thighs than they normally would be while he mediates, like he hasn’t managed to purge all the fear from his body the way he has his mind. At the new scars he can see on his forearms and one snaking over his collarbone, scars that Jaskier wasn’t there to bandage and fuss over. At the way his hair spills over his shoulders, still tousled from Jaskier’s fingers. At the single tear track carving a path down one marble cheek.

Jaskier sucks in a breath and turns away before he breaks down and Yen comes back to find him catatonic on the ground.

He ends up standing at the mouth of the cave, stroking New Roach’s neck and petting his hands through her glossy mane gently. Her slow breathing and the familiar warm, earthy smell of horse help ground him, bring him back from that awful frantic-floating feeling, where he was nowhere and trapped all at once.

He chatters to her quietly, just like he did to her predecessor. She, at least, warms up to him much more quickly.

A warm, black nose thumps gently into his chest. “Yes, my love, I know I need to protect my heart. I’m trying! Can’t you see how hard I’m trying?” She nickers softly, more of a puff of breath than a proper sound.

“Well aren’t we feeling smug this evening, sweet thing.” Another thump. “It’s alright darling, I don’t blame you. I think I’m ridiculous, too. I just don’t know how to fix it.” He strokes a hand down her forehead, scritching lightly.

“No, me either. You know what the problem is, don’t you?” She lips at his hair, which he takes as an invitation to continue.

His voice is even quieter now, the barest thread of a whisper, quiet enough that even Geralt might not overhear if he comes out of meditation. “The problem is that I’ve spent all this time coming up with plans and strategies and contingencies for not giving my heart away again, when the truth is I don’t think I ever got it back in the first place.”

He rests his forehead against hers in defeat, tears falling silently again. He’s going to dehydrate at this point, but what does he care when he has a beautiful lady providing him such warm, solid comfort right here?

“I have to say, songbird, this is not what I expected to find when I came back tonight.”

Jaskier does not flail. He is a professional performer, he has immaculate control over his body at all times. And he definitely doesn’t squeak, no bard would ever be caught dead making such an undignified noise unintentionally.

So no, he neither flails nor squeaks, and if New Roach gets very slightly spooked and a lot disgruntled, it was from Yennefer sneaking up out of bloody nowhere like a wraith in the night, and certainly nothing Jaskier did. If either of them say different, they’re lying.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Is this your plan to kill me and make it look like an accident? I’ll tell Ciri, she’ll come after you with her dagger, see if she doesn’t. Ciri likes me. Ciri would avenge me.” He’s clutching his chest, heartbeat gradually beginning to slow.

New Roach is still giving him a dubious look. That’s rude, this is hardly his fault. It’s Yen she should be grumpy with.

“Well, I was rather hoping that by this point in the evening, you wouldn’t need a miniature Witcherling-sorceress to defend you, since you’d have your big strong Witcher back, but somehow things seem to have gotten worse in my absence. Did he not manage to tell you his real feelings? Bloody Witchers, trust him to be resistant to my recipe, it’s never bloody failed before, if he’s made this worse somehow I’m going to bloody dissect him to figure out where I went wrong-“ She continues muttering darkly while Jaskier stares at her in shock.

His mind is valiantly trying to shake off enough of the lingering fog of tears to pull some of those threads together and figure out what the fuck she’s talking about.

Recipe? Real feelings? Make what worse? Did she…did she dose him with something? Did she put a fucking spell on his Witcher? He might have to have Ciri stab her after all, since he has no illusions about his own abilities to take her in a fight.

“What the fuck are you talking about, witch? What did you give him? What the fuck did you do? I’ll kill you myself you vicious little shrew, see if I don’t!”

She waves a hand dismissively, scoffing at his threats. Admittedly he is not at his best, though in his defense it’s hard to adopt a proper fighting stance when you’ve just spent half an hour kneeling in the dirt while your still-beating heart was slowly diced into bite-sized pieces. Tough on the knees, you know.

“Please, you should be thanking me. It was fucking exhausting, these last few weeks, watching you two throw longing glances back and forth when you think no one’s looking. I’m just trying to help things along.”

“Help- what? What things? Help things along how?” He’s trying very hard to hold onto his righteous anger at her for (possibly?) drugging the man he loves, but she keeps saying things that dredge up that dangerous warm feeling from before, and he’s losing his resolve.

“Nothing sinister, songbird. I’m done with that, I’m on the side of the White Knights now, remember? Have a little faith in me, for Lilit’s sake.” She rolls her eyes, but either he’s getting better at reading her or she’s making an effort to be easier to read, because he can feel the sincerity in her words. “We both know all that nonsense about Witchers not feeling is horseshit, yes?” He nods. Obviously it is, Geralt feels more deeply than anyone he’s ever met. “But I know you also understand how much he struggles to make sense of what he’s feeling, or to make himself heard when he does.”

She’s right about that, too. Jaskier knows the emotions are there, has always known, since the moment he saw Geralt in that tavern in Posada. But he’s watched Geralt get lost in the tangle of feelings inside him so thoroughly that all the words get stuck and nothing comes out. He’s seen it happen hundreds of times. That’s part of why he’s always wanted to badly to sing about him, to tell the world what Geralt can’t, to be the words when he can’t find them.

Yen gestures to the corner where Geralt is still meditating peacefully. “I didn’t do anything to his feelings. Couldn’t if I tried, that’s not really how my magic works, anyway. But I knew there are things he’s been wanting to say, and he’s been suffering for not knowing how. And as antagonistic as we may be, I don’t actually hate you nearly so much these days, and I find myself discomfited by your very obvious pining, as well.” Well, that’s…actually quite sweet. And rather disquieting, if he’s honest.

“So I gave him something to help him articulate himself. It won’t make him say anything he doesn’t want to, won’t force him to reveal any truths against his will or create any feelings that weren’t already there. It just…smooths the way. Untangles all those knots in his head so something coherent can make it out of his mouth. But you two aren’t cuddled up by the fire making me want to vomit, which means it didn’t fucking work, and I have to figure out why!” She looks rather like she would huff and stomp her foot at this, if the great and powerful Yennefer of Vengerberg would ever stoop to something so childish.

Jaskier thinks very hard about the last hour or so of his life. He thinks about Geralt saying “please,” and he thinks about the way all those words fell out of him and just kept coming and coming and coming, like a pot boiling over, piling up in a heap at Jaskier’s feet. He thinks about Geralt crying.

“Well- uh. Hmm. You know, it occurs to me now- it’s funny really, I think you’ll laugh, definitely laugh, not look at me with that petrifying glare you’ve got on right now, no you’ll be laughing I’m quite sure- Alright, yes, ok! Yes! Right, well, um. I think, looking at recent events, fresh eyes and all that you know- I’m just saying, it would have been helpful to have some of this information going in, is all- Ow! Melitele’s tits, that hurt! Do those nails come standard at Aretuza, or were you just born lucky? Ouch! Ok, ok, stop pinching me, witch! Like I was saying, with the benefit of this new information, I think it’s possible your magical intervention whosit thingy may have worked exactly as expected?”

She narrows her eyes. “If it worked, why are you crying to a horse instead of snuggling with your man?” His man. That can’t be right. Can it? Geralt isn’t his. Except. Except for all the things he sounded like he might be gearing up to say when Jaskier cut him off. Fuck.

“I, uh. I maybe. I maybe stopped him partway through and told him I needed a break?” He winces back as her already truly impressive glare intensifies even further- yep, she’s still got it.

“I did not go to all the effort of brewing that fucking potion, tailoring it for Witcher metabolisms, and making it fucking tasteless and odorless so he would drink it, not to mention standing out here in the fucking woods in the middle of the night with nothing to fucking do, just so you could chicken out halfway through getting everything you ever fucking wanted.” Her eyes are glowing violet now, which is. Wow. Scary. She’s so scary. He remembers now why he always thought she was so so scary. She jabs her finger towards the kneeling figure by the wall. “Get the fuck back in there and finish the damn conversation, bard,” she hisses. “I will not deal with this bullshit all the way to the Redanian border.”

She turns to leave again, and Jaskier shoots out a hand to stop her. She looks at his hand on her elbow and he briefly worries he’s going to end the night as a slug of some kind, but she just looks up at him questioningly.

“I just. Fuck. I know- I know this probably wasn’t easy for you. You know I know better than most what you’re feeling right now. But you’re helping anyway, so. Thank you, Yennefer. Even if it doesn’t go like you think, like I hope, you were willing to try even though it hurts, so thank you.” He isn’t sure what his face is doing, but he hopes she can see how genuinely grateful he is.

She smiles a little sadly. “Come on, songbird, We both know he was never really mine. And besides, I’m not the settling down type. Now go, don’t make me curse you.” She shoots him what would be a very passable glare if it weren’t for the slight glimmer of tears in her eyes, then spins on her heel and stalks off into the night.

He turns back to the cave, hesitating for a single moment before there’s an irritated huff, a nip to the sleeve of his jacket, and a frankly unnecessarily forceful shove to his back. He glares back at Roach, who seems unperturbed. “I’ve got entirely too many black-haired gorgeous women trying to run my life right now, do you hear me? Too many!” Roach huffs again. “Fine. I’m going, are you happy?” He takes another step and looks over his shoulder. She looks smug. Of course she does. “I think you’re just the old Roach reincarnated. Never seen another horse look so damn satisfied with herself,” he mutters, but he’s already heading back into the cave, so he figures she’s won this round.

He feels slightly guilty about grabbing Geralt’s waterskin before going to him, but he isn’t sure how long Yen’s potion lasts, or if meditating will have burned more of it off. Maybe it’s disingenuous to give him more without telling him what’s in it, but, weirdly, he trusts Yen when she says it won’t force Geralt to do or say anything he doesn’t want to, and Jaskier isn’t sure he’ll ever get to hear the words otherwise. He’ll tell him afterwards. He won’t keep this secret forever.

He sits down quietly next to Geralt, leaning up against the wall of the cave. He takes one deep breath, then another, and another. He rests his fingers gently on Geralt’s hand where it sits on his thigh. Geralt’s breathing gradually picks up until he’s back to almost his normal, slow rhythm. His eyes open, landing on Jaskier’s hand on his and following the line of his arm back up to his face.

Jaskier hands him the waterskin, and Geralt takes it with a nod of gratitude before taking a long drink. “I’m alright now,” Jaskier says. “I’m sorry I stopped you.

Geralt searches his face, eyes searching Jaskier’s for signs of dishonesty. Apparently finding none, he nods slightly, golden eyes closing again for a moment. When they open, he’s not looking at Jaskier any longer.

Jaskier looks at his hand, fingertips still resting ever so lightly on Geralt’s palm, and considers taking it back. He thinks about what Geralt has told him so far tonight, about the conviction in Yen’s voice when she insisted Geralt had feelings for him. Fuck it, he decides, and lays his hand more firmly in Geralt’s, lacing their fingers together. Geralt draws in a sharp breath and looks up at him in shock, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he grips Jaskier’s hand tighter, like he’s worried Jaskier is going to try to run.

“I know you,” Jaskier says slowly. “I’ve known you for more than half my life, and I know that you aren’t cruel, or callous, or unkind. I know that there is always a reason behind the things you say, and the things you do, even if no one else can see it.” He swallows hard, closing his eyes briefly. Geralt squeezes his hand lightly, which…helps, actually. It helps a lot. “I’m sorry I accused you of hurting me on purpose, for the sake of causing me pain. I was overwhelmed and having trouble processing things, but I shouldn’t have jumped to a conclusion I know wasn’t true. If you still want to talk, I’m ready to listen now.”

“It wasn’t an illogical conclusion to draw. And it wasn’t even completely wrong.” His voice is calmer than before, measured and even. Not as frantic. The river is still flowing free, but it’s calmed, no longer the violent rush of a broken dam. He sighs, a great, world-weary thing. “It was because you’re safe.” Jaskier looks at him quizzically.

Geralt draws in another deep breath before continuing. “I can’t ever show emotion. Not to humans. Not anger, or fear, or sometimes even joy. The myths about Witchers not having feelings…they aren’t just vicious rumors made up by bigots. They’re there to protect us. From them.”

Jaskier frowns. “You mean Witchers put that rumor out yourselves? But why?” Surely demonstrating how human Witchers really are can only help matters, right?

“In a way.” Geralt tilts his head in the way Jaskier knows means he’s remembering something long past. “It’s part of how we’re trained. We’re taught to suppress emotion, to hide it from everyone, including ourselves. It’s how we’ve done things for 400 years.” His thumb sweeps little arcs across the back of Jaskier’s hand, and Jaskier’s heart trips in his chest. He knows Geralt can probably hear it, but it must not worry him and he keeps talking.

“The first Witchers were experiments. Men twisted by mages hoping to combat the monsters that plagued the world. The process has been…refined, since then. At first, they really were- well. More monster than man.” Geralt tips his head back against the rock wall. “Humans were terrified of them. One and all, right down to their bones. The first Witchers didn’t take contracts, because no humans would even speak with them. They just wandered around until they found a monster to kill, and then moved on to the next. Eventually, people started to realize that Witchers were only killing monsters, and leaving humans be, so they slowly started reaching out for help.”

“Ungrateful sods, the lot of them,” Jaskier mutters, and hears Geralt’s quiet huff of laughter in response.

“You’re. You’re so special, do you know that?” Jaskier jerks his head up in surprise to see Geralt’s eyes on his face, liquid gold lit like sunrise by the light of the fire, a tiny smile playing around his lips. “You’ve never been afraid of me. Not once. Not even when the only things you knew about me were that I scowled a lot and I had two very scary swords.” Jaskier flushes at the reminder of the babble that spilled out of his mouth the moment he laid eyes on the single most attractive person he had ever seen in his 18 years of life.

He drops his eyes, knowing there’s no hiding the blush on his cheeks but ignoring it as hard as he can anyway. “What’s there to be scared of? You’re a puppy, not a wolf.” He expects a grumble, or a glare, or for Geralt to ignore him completely. Certainly not the bark of laughter that would have woken Ciri were it not for Yen’s charm. He stares at Geralt’s face, firelight flickering over pale skin, honest joy written in the curve of his mouth, and grins back helplessly.

“You’re the only one who’s ever thought that. Except maybe Eskel.” He laughs again, more quietly this time, then sobers slightly. “Humans are afraid of us. They always have been. Less now, since you,” he squeezes Jaskier’s hand again and Jaskier flushes even darker, “but the first Witchers were barely more than feral, and that impression…stuck. Humanity never got past it. Even when new generations of Witchers were made, when we became something closer to men than to monsters, their fear never went away. Any emotion, even the faintest irritation, was enough to make most humans think a Witcher was about to go berserk, to start tearing out the throats of anyone who got too close. So, we learned to shut them down.”

His eyes are downcast now, and Jaskier thinks of a tiny Geralt, just a boy, younger than Ciri, excited about the world, curious and clever and mischievous, thinks about him learning to hide his heart away until even he couldn’t find it anymore, and he wants to scream. He wants to cry, he wants to rage, he wants to find every human who ever judged a Witcher by his eyes and not his deeds and mount their heads on spikes. He wants to tear out their hearts and make them watch as he throws them on the pyre, burning them out like so many boys were made to burn out their own.

Geralt can smell his turmoil, he knows, and he clings to the comfort offered when he holds Jaskier’s hand as tightly as he can without hurting him, still tracing circles into his skin with his thumb.

“It isn’t safe, to have feelings. Humans may spit on a mutant with a heart of stone, but they’ll hunt and kill a monster with teeth they think will harm them. It’s safer to be cold, to be hard. To let all of it roll off of us like snow off a mountain. And after a while, you forget how to be anything else. You forget that it’s a lie, that it’s something you had to learn. You start to believe it too.” There are tears dripping off of Jaskier’s nose now, but he doesn’t dare interrupt again. “I had forgotten, until you.”

He looks at Jaskier with such naked feeling in his fiery eyes that Jaskier can’t fathom how anyone could believe this man has no heart. “You made me feel. You walked into my life and just-“ He huffs another low laugh, the faraway look on his face impossibly fond. “You just didn’t listen to a fucking thing I said. Ever! Not once! And it drove me up the godsdamned wall. I was going out of my mind, I was so fucking annoyed. You never stopped talking, or singing, or playing that damn lute, you never stayed out of the way on hunts like I told you to, you ignored me whenever I said I didn’t have feelings or I didn’t need anyone or we weren’t friends. And you wouldn’t leave! You just kept coming back, no matter how much of an arse I was, even when I acted in ways that would have made other humans shit themselves, or come after me with torches and pitchforks, or both. You just kept coming back, and you kept not believing me when I told you I was a monster, and you never smelled fucking afraid, and after a while I realized that irritated wasn’t the only thing you made me feel anymore.”

He seems to withdraw into himself a little, his shoulders hunching and his head hanging slightly. He tries to withdraw his hand, but Jaskier isn’t sure he can get through this conversation without it, so he hopes Geralt will forgive him for pushing yet more boundaries and simply holds onto him tighter.

Geralt sighs again, but stops pulling away. “But there’s still so much shit in the world. There are so many humans who hate me, or fear me, or try to cheat me, or who end up being monsters worse than the ones they want me to kill, and the problem with having it smacked over my head that I do actually have feelings, is that it makes it so much harder to ignore them. And there’s so much anger in me, Jaskier, and grief, and loneliness. And I can’t ever show it to anyone, or it will confirm everything they think they know about me. It will make me a monster. It will make me the Butcher all over again.” He looks up again, his expression anguished. “You’re the only one who’s safe. You’re the only one I can be angry around, or sad, or scared, or just annoyed, without thinking the worst of me. You’re the only one who ever comes back.”

Jaskier is back to feeling like his heart is being fed through a sieve, but he thinks he understands what Geralt is trying to say this time. He feels a renewed rush of guilt for assuming the worst of him before. Is he any better than the rest, jumping to the foulest possible conclusion while Geralt wrestles with his tongue to try and make him understand? He turns his head away, closing his eyes against the tears and trying to breathe through the shame.

Fingers grip his chin gently and coax his head back until he’s looking into Geralt’s slitted eyes again. The look on his face is so soft, so open, that Jaskier feels like his ribs are being pried apart at the sight of it. “You have no idea how much of a blessing you have actually been in my life, Jaskier,” and those words just crack his chest wide open and bare his heart to the whole room, don’t they? “I took advantage of you. I wanted so badly to have someone in my life I could show all the darkest parts of myself to, without them running away, that I forgot to show you the rest. And I forgot to help carry your darkness in return. I left you with such a burden, Jaskier, and you never once complained or asked me to help. You have done nothing but give, for as long as I’ve known you, and I wish I could show you how sorry I am that I was content for so long just to take.” Jaskier is pretty sure he’s openly sobbing now, but Geralt is sliding his hand up from his chin to cup his cheek, sweeping the tears away with his thumb, so it’s probably ok.

“Let me make it up to you, Jaskier. Let me be the one to give to you for once. Let me carry your burdens for a while. Let me give you a reason to forgive me. A reason to come back.” His eyes are pools of molten gold, wide and dark and shining with- emotion. An emotion. Jaskier isn’t going to hazard a guess at which emotion, because he isn’t sure he can handle the answer.

“I’ve already forgiven you, you great lummox. For all of it. A safe place is all I ever wanted to be for you. I only ever wanted to give you a home. Like you gave me. Just- just share it with me next time, please? The anger, or the fear? Share it with me first, instead of letting it fester and burn us both. That’s all I need from you.”

Geralt’s hand on his cheek guides him forward until their faces are inches from each other, foreheads resting together. Jaskier’s eyes want to close but he can’t bear to look away, too afraid this is all an impossible dream that will disappear as soon as he opens them again. He can see the way the firelight glimmers off his silver hair, the scars through his eyebrow, the tears clinging to his eyelashes as they sweep gently over his cheeks. He’s never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever deserved you, but I would do anything for the chance to try to be someone who does. I’m yours, Jaskier. You need only say you’ll have me.”

Jaskier is a man of words. He’s a bard, words are his trade, his weapons, the blood in his veins. No matter what else is happening around him, no matter what he has or what he’s lost or what needs to be done, there are always words ready to spring forth from him like water from a spigot. He has never, in all his life, been out of words.

Until now.

Fuck it.

Geralt’s lips are softer than he imagined, given that his skincare routine seems to consist primarily of monster innards. But they’re soft and they’re warm and they move so gently against Jaskier’s that he thinks he might simply melt into a puddle, to be absorbed into the earth and never seen again. The kiss is tender, and sweet, and longing, and not at all how he imagined his first kiss with Geralt would be. It’s perfect. Jaskier breaks it with a watery laugh, keeping his forehead pressed to Geralt’s.

Somehow his free hand has found its way back into Geralt’s silky hair, and he threads his fingers deeper into the moonlit locks and hopes he’ll never have to let go.

“You’re mine?” He knows he sounds a little pleading, disbelief coloring his tone, but he can’t help it. He’s had this dream so many times, he needs to be sure it’s real this time. “Really?”

“Really, little lark.” Geralt is smiling just as wide as Jaskier is, his cheeks just as damp. “I’ve always been yours, I was just too stupid to admit it. I won’t make that mistake again. I love you. I’ll never leave you behind again, not for the rest of your life, if you’ll let me.”

And, oh, there’s a conversation they should maybe have, because after all the revelations of tonight, Jaskier is fairly sure Geralt thinks he’s completely human, and is probably in pain over his supposed mortality. At some point before they go to sleep Jaskier will mention it, because apparently Geralt hasn’t noticed that his face hasn’t changed a lick in 25 years, the stubble he wears these days notwithstanding.

Because Geralt is a ridiculous, incredible, oblivious, stupid, wonderful fool, and Jaskier loves him so much he can hardly breathe. So he tells him so. The rest can wait.

#the witcher #twn #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #dandelion #julian alfred pankratz #yennefer of vengerberg #cirilla fiona elen riannon #the witcher fanfiction #my writing #i'll do the same with sleep now eventually i think but i want to finish it first

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veg-hotwings · 2 years

Text

Inaccuracies to Japanese culture in MHA fanfics

Necessary (?) disclaimer: this is just my personal taste, so don't come at me pls. If you have some pacific inputs, tho, I'd be thrilled to read them.

Mind that most of this stuff is because I have a major degree in Japanese culture and language, and I've lived and studied there for some time, so I'm quite sensitive to how people write about Japan. I'm not saying that the way I experienced Japan and its culture is how everybody perceives it, still there are many things that clash with what I studied and lived.

I know My Hero Academia is set in the future and that it's not real, but you can see through the manga that some cultural things didn't change in MHA's setting, so that's my starting point.

I know that people write because they like it, to enjoy themselves and nobody is forced to do researches about Japan; still, some things itch me nonetheless.

I'm saying this, but it doesn't mean that I can't enjoy the ff I'm reading because of these inaccuracies, I do most of the time, especially if it's well written.

Now, let's get to it:

GEOGRAPHY

I lost count of how many times I've read about Hawks travelling from the HPSC (which presumibly is near Musutafu, Shizuoka (22) Prefecture, where the UA is, or Tokyo (13) to Fukuoka (40) and vice-versa like it was nothing more than a stroll. They're not round the corner, it takes time to get there, even for the fastest hero (2 hours by plane from Tokyo, 5 hours by shinkansen).

And speaking of geography, let's put the Todorokis' mansion on the table. It's in Musutafu, so Endeavor takes his car to his agency and Shoto to school. This is relevant because of Endeavor's position in the hero society, he needs to live near the biggest cities to have such high case closure rates. Hawks was raised in the outskirts of Fukuoka, so it just rubs me the wrong way when I read childhood friends AU where little Keigo and Touya casually meet. I know it's an AU of a fanon ship (which I love), but it just doesn't feel right to me. I can't picture the Todorokis, the perfect family, speaking in Hakata dialect, living far from the capital or from UA. Keigo was an outcast, these two realities collide.

Shiketsu too. This school is in the West (in the Kyoto (26) area, I suppose), so it wouldn't be possible for AU Touya to just go to school there by car, he'd need to take a long train ride or to move to Shiketsu's dorms.

CULTURE

Sometimes there are just so many references to US culture I wonder if I missed a tag placing the story in the US instead of Japan. I understand that it's easier for a lot of people to find the story entertaining this way, but Japan is an important part of the story itself. The Hero culture and hero names too are often US-inspired, but not always, think about Tsukuyomi, Shinrin Kamui or even Deku.

Colleges in AUs are often treated too much like stereotypical US colleges. I even read about red paper cups for party drinks like it's what you find on every campus in the world. I've asked some friends studying at university in Japan and they confirmed that the depition was quite off.

This applies to music too. Everybody almost always uses English or American songs, and I get it, we understand the lyrics, they speak more directly and deeply to the reader. But Japan has a huge music culture and sub-culture, and it'd be nice to see that sometimes.

At times I've read about western style wedding ceremonies in the woods, but it's very odd in Japan. We can assume Endeavor and Rei's wedding was celebrated according to the Shinto rite (Endeavor's quite traditional in that sense), but usually Japanese people who want a western wedding do both the celebration and the reception in specific halls (結婚式場 kekkonshiki-jō); there are ads everywhere in Japan for these places. It's not uncommon that couples celebrate with both rites though (Shinto and western) but in different places and not always on the same day.

On a minor note, sometimes characters that are related are just too physical with each other. In the MHA universe they canonically seem more open to physical contact than in present Japan, but still sometimes it's just too much. It's not common to hug even your own children (my host family confirmed this to me, just saying).

NAMES

We all know Japanese is a complex language, but I just can't when I read a parent in a fic using a suffix like "-kun" to their own child. That's not how it works. "-kun" is used among male pairs (excuse Iida, he's just too formal) outside the family unit (this is a key concept in Japanese language, the distinction between "inner" circle, called uchi, and "outer" circle called soto). So no, Rei can't call Touya "Touya-kun". And neither Natsuo, who calls him Niisan (older brother). The ""exception"" (more or less) is "-chan". Parents call their kids (in kindergarden, until primary school usually) -chan with an abbreviation of their name, like Katsuki > Kacchan. For girls it's just a cute, intimate thing (think about Tsuyu calling everybody -chan and requiring her classmates to call her so, that's why Izuku is so uncomfortable using that nickname).

And speaking of abbreviations, too often they're based on Western ways to create them. The best example of this is Fuyumi 冬美. Her name's kanjis are fuyu (winter) and mi (beauty), so her nickname should be "Fuyu" and not "Yumi" like I read 90% of the time. Maybe it sounds foreign to you, but it's correct. Touya too. Adding an -o (Toyo) is so US/Australian, it sounds so strange to me. Shiggy, Nat, Toy, Keigs, Dabs, Dabsters... they're all western-style nicknames. I'm fond of them, but they sound strange if I stop and think that the story is based in Japan.

MISC

Housing: fire escapes are not as common as one could think. There are often external stairs in small apartment buildings, but they're public, in the sense they're used by tenants to reach their floors. Same for balconies. There's not a balcony culture in Japan, it's more of a European thing, and usually only big houses have them. This is the one I always close an eye on and that bugs me the least, but it's not very accurate.

Money: this is so funny. I swear I've read about dollars. In Japan. Dollars. Sometimes I've also read yen treated like it was dollars, while completely disregarding the exchange rate (usually 1$ is 132¥ more ore less), or giving things the wrong prices (like a cigarette pack worth 200¥ when it costs roughly 450¥).

Driving: in Japan they drive on the left side of the road, but I can't recall a single fic where the driver's seat was appointed to be on the right side of the car.

It's really not a surprise that "Paper Mountains, Glass Seas" is my favourite series ever.

Apart from being wonderfully written, it makes Japan so tangible and recognizable. @bittermoonswrites goes all the way talking about expats life, language, culture, art in such a human, relatable and itimate way it's unreal.

It's a more adult fic, with contemporary themes, and I don't look for this kind of accuracy all the time, especially in canon-verse fics, but it's so nice and refreshing when I read about small, precious details that ground the story in Japan.

#about japan #my hero academia #fanfics #ao3 #mha fanfic #bnha fanfic #boku no hero academia #accuracy #rant #i'm fastidious i know #japanese culture #writing tips #japan #culture #fanfic tips

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totally-a-different-person · 2 years

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Tordedd fluff pls and if you don’t do fluff then smutty fluff? I just want something wholesome please

I will write you a smut, but just so you know you can request a regular fluff at @dinos-eddsworld-sidebolg and I'll write you one there, I've had this idea for a while anyway, I love fluffy smuts, by far my favorite genre of porn 10/10

Edd's Pov

I can't believe I'm doing this. I feel a little silly if I'm being honest, it's so embarrassing. I miss him so much even though we talk almost every night once he gets off work. But just recently I made a joke about how my libido has through the roof without him here to help me, leaving out the part about me often wear one of the hoodies he left here when I do touch myself. Apparently he decided he should do something about that, and sent me... well this. I sat there on my bed, staring at it, as if it were an enemy I was very suspicious of even though they promised we were on a truce. It got here a few days ago but I haven't used it yet, I'd just been missing him especially bad today and the idea of feeling good with something he picked out specially for me sounded really nice. I reached over and picked it up, it was one of those magic wand things, the kind that plugged into the wall. I had already plugged it in, the cord was long but there was an outlet pretty close to my bed so it didn't really need to be.

I turned it over in my hands looking at it. Mostly red of course, all the details in white. Speaking of which there were a few little buttons, and a bigger button above them. I assume the buttons control how strong the vibrations are, I've never had one like this so I'm a tiny bit nervous. I hesitantly pressed the button highest up, flinching slightly as it started buzzing in my hand, rather aggressively. I quickly pressed the bigger button that switched it off. Ok... should probably try one of the lower settings first. I pressed the one closets to the big one and it was a consistent, pretty gentle buzz. That's a lot better I think. I swallowed thickly and spread my legs a bit, leaning back against the pillows on the bed. I pressed it against my clothed crotch, gasping softly and jumping a bit, quickly moving it away. That... felt better than I expected it to. I let my free hand grab the blanked as I slowly put it back, sighing softly and it buzzed, resting against the base of my cock. God that feels pretty good.

After a few more seconds to get used to that, I clicked the second button, wanting to see what it was like. Right away it's got a stronger vibration, but I also has a pattern. I stopped for a second to figure out what it was, it'll buzz for a few seconds then stop for about half the time I buzzed for then keep going. I liked that one, it felt really good. It almost had a weird teasing feeling with the way it would stop. Which is ironic considering that's definitely something Tord would do. Makes sense that this is the one he would by. God, I guarantee he just adores the idea of me jetting off with something he bought, jackass. I swallowed thickly, shivering a tiny bit as I moved it up a bit, closing my legs a little on instinct. Woah... that's different. I used my free hand to unbutton my pants, shimmying out of then and kicking them to the foot of the bed, leaving me in just my underwear and the lightly oversized red hoodie. I slowly putting it back in the same spot it was before, gasping quietly and covering my mouth. It's a lot more intense like this, it feels so good. I sank down a little bit, pressing it against me a little harder and letting out a small moan. I pushed the sweater up to my face, it smells like metallic and smoke. I never used to like those smells but once I started associating it with Tord it became on of my favorites. I hid my face in the cloth, attempting to muffle the moans that kept slipping out. "Haah~" I mewled softly, my eyes peeking out.

"Ah!~" a surprised noise got out as I clicked the third button. Even stronger, and the pattern was gone. I leaned head back, whimpering a little. I heard the front door open and the others talking, but didn't pay it any mind. Matt probably just had someone over. I wish Tord was here, he's so good at this. I pressed it a little closer "Tord~" I moaned put softly. I can feel that tight feeling in my stomach getting more noticeable. I reached down to take off my underwear as well, wanting to properly feel it. But I didn't get the chance, the door opened, rather quickly. "Hey! I..." He trailed off. I screamed, dropping it and closing my legs. Tord had his backpack in one hand, the doorknob in his other. "Woah, if I had known this is what I'd be coming back to I would visit way more often." He mumbled as he closed the door, letting bag hit the floor. I feel like my face is on fire, oh my god I'm so embarrassed. I was gonna try to explain myself, but stopped when his face lit up. He has such a sweet, genuine smile. "Awe, your using the one I got you!" He beamed walking over to my bed. "Thi-this is the first time I've used it." I said as he sat down, the mattress creaking quietly.

He leaned into me and wrapped me in a big hug, I felt most of the panic and embarrassment fall away. He's so warm... I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, keeping him close and completely tangling us together. "I'm glad you liked it then" He coed holding me closer. I smiled a tiny bit and burried my face in the crook of his neck making him chuckle "I missed you so so much." It got kind of muffled by his shoulder but I'm pretty sure he got the message. He kissed the top of my head "I missed you too love~" he said sweetly. We just stayed like that for a minute and it was really nice, then one of his hands moved down a bit to my hip and his other on the bed to prop himself up, I let go of his neck. I could still hear the vibrator buzzing against my blanket since I never turned it off. He leaned in a bit to lightly kiss my neck, making me squirm a little. "I'm sorry for interrupting you," He whispered, teeth grazing my skin. He's obviously leading up to something. "Can I help as an apology? I don't need anything back, I just wanna make you feel good, I missed your little noises so much." My face went deep scarlet and I grabbed the blanket in my hands. That does sound really nice. "O-ok" I said with a light nod. He smiled and nipped at my neck, causing me to moan softly. "Great~" he purred before placing one more kiss on my neck and sitting up.

I sat up a little too as he reached over to the vibrator, looking at it. He let out a small chuckle, looking back into my eyes "You only put it on the third setting? Cute" the last part was a little more quiet. His free hand slid down a little from my waist to the hem of my underwear "Can I?" He raised an eyebrow as he asked, to which I nodded, blushing a bit darker. He kissed my forehead as he slipped them off, making my giggle a bit. His lips are all chapped, it's kinda nice. He pressed another kiss to my cheek, my cheeks hurt from how much I was smiling. "Tord" laughed, putting one of my hands on his chest but not pushing. He's so dumb. He laughed as well, moving away a bit. Gosh he makes my face so red I'm so happy to have him back. "Which setting was your favorite?" He asked looking back at the toy. "Ah, I liked two." I responded quietly, admittedly a little bit embarrassed. He clicked it down one, seeing what what the second setting was like. After a moment this smug grin set itself on his face "Oh, you like the way it teases you huh?~ I have an idea" I went deep red and before I could defend myself or argue he ran the hand that was on my side up into the sweatshirt, having me lay back. I didn't see which button he clicked but it was stronger than any of the ones I had tried, and there was no pattern to it. He pressed it against the tip of my member, making me jolt and gasp pretty deeply. He chuckled and moved the sweater up, trailing soft kisses up my belly, his hand resting on my chest. I shut my eyes as tight as I could, whimpering a little.

I feel all fuzzy and prickly. Gosh I missed this so so much. "A-aah!~" I choked out, moaning Tord's name. He took one of my sort of squishy pecks in his hand and played with the bud, making me squirm as he ran his tongue over the other sending big shivers up my spine. I could feel my climax building again, my body feels so hot. I think he could tell, my breath was shorter and the noises I made got a bit more high pitched. He moved it down, having it against the base for a few moment's before taking it away. What?? I whined and looed at him confused, but he just laughed "Oh what? Were you close? I thought you said you liked the stopping?~" He taunted, waving it a bit for emphasis. God, he's such an asshole. I should kick him or something. I just glared at him, face deep red. He put it back and pressed our lips together, I calmed down a little and wrapped my arm around his neck as I let my eyes fell shut. I could feel it building back pretty quickly up because I had been so close. "Ahh~ Tord~" I breathed as out lips parted for a moment before he put them back together. I kept letting muffled moans and yelps and the kiss, but I was hardly paying attention. My head feels like it's full of cotton.

My cock twitched and I was so so close, but he moved it away again. I let out an involintary whimper and moved away from the kiss but before I could say anything he spoke "You know what want your to say dear~" He said softly before kissing my forehead then my neck, putting it back slowly moving it up my length after a moment. That's when I realized what he wanted. I didn't mind at all if I'm being honest, I felt to hot and needy to be embarresed, at this point I was pretty far into that weird headspace he puts me in. It's nice though, feels safe with him. "Tord," I said softly, having to gather myself a little "please make me cum? I want you too so bad~" My voice was soft and breathy, but it was the best I could do at the moment. Thankfully it was more than enough, him chuckling softly and he clicked it up one more to what I'm assuming was the last setting. "Only because you asked so sweetly~" He coed before biting down on my shoulder making me jump a bit. I was pating softly, having a bit of trouble staying still. "Mmh!~ Tord!~" I gasped softly. "So so beautiful~" he purred softly making me shudder. My stomach felt so tight until the rope finally snapped. I moaned pretty loudly as I came, still gasping and moaning quietly as the high slowly wore off and I could sorta think. Tord turned it off and kissed my face a bunch, setting it aside. "Good boy, did such a good job for me~had" He praised softly.

I let out another small breath, looking up at him, happily accepting the affection. He's so so sweet, just amazing. He put his hands on my waist and had me sit up. "Do you have any lube?" he asked rubbing my sides with his thumbs. I nodded and gently placed one of my hands on his arm "In the drawer" I answered looking from him to the nightstand next to the bed. He nodded back and opened it up, looking through for a second before grabbing the bottle and closing it. He turned his full attention back to me, and maybe it's just because I haven't seen him in so long so I'm being weird, but that was nice. I like that I noticed that, it was a nice thought to have. He kissed me deeply for just a moment while he grabbed one of my legs and had me spread them, still holding my thigh for a moment while he opened up the bottle. He kissed my forehead while he poured some if it onto his left fingers, pressing two of them against my entrance. Still such a weird feeling.

I shivered a little as he pushed them inside, moaning quietly. He laughed a bit, pressing them further making me squirm. This only continued for a short amount of time though, before he stopped moving. I whimpered a bit but he shushed me, pecking my lips. "Relax, I've got you." He moved down a little, putting my legs on his shoulders and placing a kiss on the head of my cock, making me tense up almost immediately making him chuckle. He looked up at me with that smug face before taking it into his mouth and I gasped. Oh God, his mouth is so warm it wet it was overwhelming. "A-ah!~" I moaned sort of loudly, blushing deeply and shutting my eyes tight afterwards. He swirled his tongue around it and I gasped again, whining. He wrapped his right arm around my leg to keep me close, his other hand once again pressing two fingers inside me. I couldn't help yet another loud moan from getting out, one of my hands gripping to blankets tight and the other grabbing his hair. He moved his fingers in and out of e slower this time, pressing the against my walls, occasionally stopping to pay a bit of extra attention to my special spot, making me gasp and moan right away, sometimes even bucking my hips if he caught me off guard. Needless to say I was kind of a mess. I'm not proud of it, but I really couldn't help it. With his tongue on my member while he gently fingered me felt so so wonderful, it was way too much, coherent thought was out of the question. I was just a red faced moaning mess, even tearing up a little at this point. "Tord!~"

That's another thing I did really miss, he's so good with his fingers, and he's always so good at finding all the right spots with them. As if reading my mind he pressed into my prostate especially hard, and I let out a noise between a yelp and a moan, arcing my back just slightly. I felt him chuckle around me, sending shivers up my spine. "To-tord I'm gonna cum- A-AAH!~" my warning was cut off by another involuntary moan when he rubbed against my spot with both of his fingers, I'm pretty sure that was him letting me know I was aloud. I ended up melting against the pillows, panting softly, gasping and letting out breathy moans. I feel so so unbelievably warm, like even under my skin. It's tingly, feels sort of exciting. "Oh, ohhhh~ Tord!~ Oh please it's so good please don't stop!~" I begged, squishing my legs around his head a little bit as I felt myself over my peak. "Haaah!~" I moaned out, sinking down just a little bit more as I felt my mind completely fog up for a good couple seconds, leaving me completely helpless in his arms. He took his finger out making me shudder just a bit, before kissing my cheek. "Do you want to go again?" He asked softly, looking into my eyes. I shook my head a little bit before actually answering him, having to gather myself enough to talk "I-I think I'm all done for right now" I said with a small laugh as he kissed my face once again. "Sounds good to me" He purred pulling me a little closer so he could properly cuddle me. I smiled a little and leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his neck and got comfortable, already feeling a bit tired. He's so warm and nice I love it so much.

He kissed my forehead softly "I love you" I felt myself smile even more, blushing bright red. "I love you too" We ended up falling asleep like that even though he told me the next morning that he had planned to take me to dinner. It was ok though because we woke up crazy early since we went to sleep at six pm, so we just got all dressed up and went to get breakfast, I'm gonna miss him when he has to go.

#sinsworld #sinsworld edd #sw edd #sinsworld tord #sw tord #tordedd

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because-of-a-friend · 3 years

Text

Enemies to Lovers!Jeonghan

MASTERLIST

One day I will come up with titles for my works lol.

Hi Hannah!!!! Thanks for requesting! I loved doing this one! I went ahead and went with Jeonghan cuz I feel like he fits this trope best! Sorry you had to wait so long, this particular fic got deleted like... three times so it was a struggle lol. I hope it’s what you were looking for!

I hope this is a good one, I’m realizing I get real insecure about my writing anytime I’m not doing a bulletpoint or reaction fic, so I don’t feel great about this time. Also I only started recently putting actual detail into my kiss scenes and idk how I’m doing with those???? Like do they seem ok??? Also I feel like I make it so obvious that I am such a sucker for SVT having cute nicknames for siblings, friends, partners, etc in fics lol. Anyways...

Also, I really said: Jeonghan... but in different types of lighting

Remember I don’t own the gif! Link to OP is right there if you want to go give the creator some love!!!

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Mentions eating, reader is using female pronouns (I will keep things gn unless you request differently), I think that’s it, pls let me know if I missed any

You’re not sure exactly how it happened. It was probably just an instance of getting off on the wrong foot, that led to more awkward interactions, giving both of you the wrong impression of each other. You knew this, you could rationalize it all. You were well aware that all it would take was one “I think we might have the wrong idea of each other” conversation and it would all be over. You could easily fix it all, but…

But his stupid smug face. The sarcastic jokes. The never-ending pranks that were not as funny as he thought they were. His ridiculous arrogance. His overall unapologetic nature towards all of it.

You couldn’t help but hate Yoon Jeonghan.

*****

“I don’t know, Wonnie…” you say uneasily over the phone. In previous years, you’d go over to the dorm without hesitation. You loved spending time with your brother and many of the other boys. But ever since you had officially met and begun interacting with Jeonghan…

“C’mon, [Y/N]! I bought that new game you were talking about! We can play it together on my gaming system!” Wonwoo began to persuade. You knew you’d give in; you always did. Your brother was far too sweet a person and far too comforting a presence to reject. The question was how long did you want to argue with him about going to the dorm.

You sighed, accepting defeat early to save time, “I’ll head over there in a bit.”

Wonwoo gives a small cry of victory, “Ok, I’ll have Gyu make extra ramen.” Wonwoo abruptly hangs up the phone right after, leaving you in silence to groan in regret of your decision.

You immediately straighten yourself out, though, trying to put yourself in a mindset of determination. What were you thinking? Just because you and that asshole didn’t get along meant you couldn’t go see your own twin brother without feeling uncomfortable? Screw that! If he wanted to keep the peace then he was going to have to start watching where he stepped around you.

*****

You knocked loud and clear on the door of their dorm, knowing that with thirteen people living inside, it was usually too noisy for them to hear someone signal their arrival. To your relief, Seungcheol opened the door just moments after you knocked and greeted you with a warm smile followed by a hand sneaking into your hair to ruffle it, “Hey there, kiddo! How’s it hanging?”

“Just fine,” you tilt your head down slightly in his direction as you pass him to enter the dorm. “How are things here?” As soon as you ask, your ears are met with the noise of someone dropping something in the kitchen, followed by Seungkwan crying in alarm.

“Same as always, I supposed,” Seungcheol sighs, but his smile doesn’t fade. “I think Mingyu and Wonwoo are already in the computer room, if you want to go ahead and see them!”

“Ok, thanks Cheol!” you call as you both rush off in different directions, him towards the kitchen and you towards the small room that would provide you solace from the possibility of having to see Yoon Jeonghan.

You were determined not to let things go how they usually did: you with your mouth clamped shut as Jeonghan spoke whatever teasing words he had saved up for you, and the most you can do to fight back is by rolling your eyes and finding any way to get away from him.

This time, you would still avoid contact with him, but if it happened, you’d speak your mind and not care what he thought, since that’s how he treated you.

But there was no sign of him or anyone else as you walked to the computer room. You could hear Mingyu and Wonwoo yelling and cheering at the game long before you opened the door. It was pitch black inside, the piercing light of the screen making you squint your eyes.

The two men inside both turn immediately to check who offended their dark space with the soft, yellow light from the hallway.

“Oh [Y/N], you came!” Mingyu beams up at you. You nod, matching his bright expression.

“How’s the game?” you ask simply, looking up to your brother.

“We like it so far,” Wonwoo’s smile is wide, he always gets excited about new games, whether they’re good or not. He leans over to grab a can of some sort of energy drink before gulping it down. “We left some ramen for you over there on the table. Eat first, then I’ll let you have a turn.”

You roll your eyes, though Wonwoo was only mere minutes older than you, he found those moments to be enough leverage to order you around and act like you should be dependent on his care. There were times when he even referred to himself as “oppa” to you and insisted that you do the same.

Most of the time you let it slide, especially when you weren’t in the mood to argue. However, there were times when you’d pull out the “We’re the same age,” “Even if you’re older, I’m smarter,” or “Don’t boss me around when I’m more mature than you” cards at the drop of a hat.

“Can you at least turn on the LEDs while I eat?” you ask, tip-toeing in the darkness towards the table at the back end of the room. You hear a click before a soft blue glow fills the room, finally giving you a clear view of your path. You pull the bowl of ramen towards you as you sit and resist the urge to comment on how little they left you. The dorm was filled with food anyways, you could find more later if you got hungry again.

Wonwoo and Mingyu begin to eagerly tell you what they like about the game as you eat. You listen happily, feeling safe in the presence of your brother and friend.

Then of course…

“Hey you two, Cheol wanted me to remind you that we have to get up early tomorrow,” you can’t help the sour expression that comes over your face as Jeonghan enters the room to speak to Wonwoo and Mingyu. “Oh, hey there cutie, I didn’t know you were here!” His smirk makes you sick.

“Don’t call me that,” you say bitterly into the nearly empty bowl.

Wonwoo looks nervously between you and his bandmate, well aware of the dislike you have for him. He’s grateful that you’ve always kept it so civil, but still feels bothered by the unrest between you.

Jeonghan lets out a little giggle in response, and Wonwoo feels a tug in the pit of his stomach, he wishes Jeonghan wouldn’t be so hard on you sometimes. He knows his hyung doesn’t mean anything by it, but you…

You feel your heart sink as Jeonghan steps fully into the room, striding to sit across from you at the table. You can only stare in wonder at his audacity as he slides the bowl towards himself and finishes off the ramen in one bite.

“I was eating that,” you try to keep your tone measured, attempting to keep within the balance of standing up for yourself but not starting any drama that would affect the boys.

“Go make more if you’re hungry, then,” Jeonghan says casually, making your anger positively flare.

You don’t even give your brother the chance to mediate, jumping up from your place and leaving the room, wanting to be anywhere but around that prick.

*****

“You’re leaving already?” Mingyu pouts at you.

“Gyu, I’ve been here for hours,” you laugh, stretching out your fingers as they start to prick from pain of slamming into a keyboard for so long. You had returned to the computer room but only after Jeonghan left. Part of you had wished you had done more to confront him; another part was glad you didn’t start a fight and put Wonwoo in an awkward position. “Besides all of you, as well as me have to get up early tomorrow, it’s already late. I need to get back home.”

“You can stay here,” Wonwoo was quick to offer.

You shook your head at him, “Then I’ll just have to get up even earlier, I’ll go back to my place.” Wonwoo nods almost reluctantly, standing to walk you out.

All of you run into Joshua on your way to the front door, he turns out to be the only one smart enough to ask how you got there.

“Oh, I took the bus,” you say slowly, knowing this is about to cause issues.

“Well, the last one would have already stopped running by now,” Mingyu says looking at the time on his phone.

“I’ll give you a ride,” Josh offers immediately.

You bring your hands up to shake them back and forth, “No, no, I can find a way home, you all need to go to bed.”

“[Y/N],” Wonwoo speaks up immediately in that stern voice you hate but also can’t help but listen to, “let Josh take you home. It’s either that or you stay here, I won’t have you walking around alone at night.” Wonwoo waits a moment to gauge your expression. He finally nods affirmatively, before speaking directly to Joshua, “Take her home, please.”

Joshua nods before walking off to grab his keys. You and Wonwoo send Mingyu off to bed. Once you’re alone, your brother pulls you in for a tight hug. “Do you want me to say something to him?” he asks lowly.

You shake your head, “I don’t want to cause any problems with you guys.” You sit in silence for a moment. “Come and stay over with me sometime, I miss our sleepovers.”

Joshua comes back and Wonwoo pulls away, “Thanks, hyung. Please get her home safe.” For the second time that night, your hair gets ruffled before your brother disappears to go off to bed.

The ride home with Joshua is comfortable. He speaks kindly to you and makes you smile.

You begin to wonder how amongst all these angels, there exists a person like Yoon Jeonghan.

*****

Wonwoo used the new game as leverage to guilt you into coming over quite often in the following weeks. You hadn’t realized how much you had limited your time at the dorm until you started going consistently once more. It was nice being able to spend time with the boys again. You hated that Jeonghan had become such an unbearable presence that it affected your relationship with the rest of your friends.

But ever since you had started to stand your ground and talk back, he had finally begun to avoid you. You supposed it was only fun for him when you sat there and took it.

It didn’t stop the two of you from bickering when you saw each other, but now both of you preferred to avoid each other instead of Jeonghan seeking you out to tease you.

The following weeks of visiting were fairly comfortable. Whenever Jeonghan wasn’t around, you got to spend plenty of time with the other boys and your brother. Plus, the new video game was even better than expected.

Jeonghan’s presence slowly became uncomfortable in a different way.

Instead of being smug and overbearing, he became strangely quiet around you. His facial expressions became more serious as he sent genuine glares your way before letting out bitter remarks and going on his way.

It made you even angrier.

Who the hell was he to torture you all this time and then act like a kicked puppy when you finally fought back???

Your anger and his bitterness slowly escalated the tension between you two. Although they were happening less frequently, the arguments between you became more serious and almost hurtful.

Whatever, you told yourself, he could do as he pleased, you wouldn’t let it affect you anymore.

*****

You stared down at your phone screen. Why? Why did it have to be here, while you were at the dorm?

The call was only five minutes. They didn’t even do it in person. Of course, they had warned that because of hard times, there’d be lay-offs soon. But they couldn’t even do it in person? And all you got was a simple “Sorry, come collect your things on Monday”??? You were a hard worker, passionate about the job, more efficient than most of your coworkers and this is how they treated you???

A part of you could’ve guessed, many of the employees your age had gotten in because of nepotism. But you didn’t want to believe that they’d just brush off all your years of hard work just to avoid stepping on the toes of higher-ups who had relative connections hired at the company.

You squatted against the wall of the hallway, still too in shock to move.

So, you simply sat in silence, for what seemed like forever.

“You good?” you had never felt worse than the exact moment his voice reached your ears.

“Go away,” you said sternly, knowing you’d be crying soon.

“Geez, forgive me for asking,” Jeonghan responds before turning to walk away. He stops abruptly after you sniffle. “So, you’re not ok?”

“No offense, Jeonghan,” you say hating the way your voice is shaking, “but you are the last person I want to speak to right now.”

There’s a heavy silence for a long moment. You silently pray that he’ll just leave. “Do you want me to get your brother?” he asks lightly.

You shake your head, “No, I don’t want to ruin the mood. I’m going to go home, just tell him I had a stomach ache.” You push yourself up and begin to walk briskly towards the door.

To your surprise, Jeonghan reaches out to stop you. You stare at his hand wrapped around your arm and wonder if you’ve ever even allowed him to touch you before. “It’s already late, let me give you a ride.”

You pull his hand off of you, “No, thanks.” You grab your coat and start to dig around in your purse to make sure you have all of your belongings.

“[Y/N],” Jeonghan’s voice rings clear in your head despite your brain feeling fuzzy. You don’t want to look at him. Who is this person that’s showing concern and speaking kindly? You don’t like it. It feels fake. It feels like a predator playing with a wounded prey. You’re just waiting for him to laugh or make a remark or do anything to make you feel worse than you already do.

But Jeonghan simply grabs the keys laying on the front table, grabs your arm once more, and leads you out to the car.

*****

The ride is suffocatingly silent. You wished he’d at least turn on some music to cover up the sound of your crying, but you remained in the quiet. You rolled down your window and stuck your head out, letting the warm night air and sound of wind comfort you. Since you were turned away from him completely, you didn’t see Jeonghan glancing over at you throughout the drive.

You couldn’t have left that car faster when you finally pulled up to your apartment.

To your dismay, Jeonghan also gets out, apparently intent on walking you up.

“You don’t have to-” you start but abruptly stop when he gives you a look telling you an emotion you don’t quite understand.

Jeonghan finally speaks when you’re riding the elevator up to your floor, “I don’t really mean it, you know.”

“Mean what?” you say weakly, starting to feel the exhaustion from crying so much.

“When I talk to you like that… I mean when I’m… rude,” he trails off, running a hand through his hair. “Usually it’s just teasing, but obviously I went too far with you. And I didn’t realize it until you started showing how upsetting it was for you. I should’ve known before that, though.”

“You seemed ruder after I started talking back,” you say, confused.

“I was just being petty and defensive. I kept telling myself things like: It’s her fault, isn’t it? She should have made it more clear from the beginning that it was upsetting her. How was I supposed to know? But that was just me being immature, I should’ve just talked to you.”

“Is that an… apology, Yoon Jeonghan?” you ask, letting yourself be a little smug.

For the first time, you get a genuine smile out of him, “Maybe.”

There’s more silence for a second.

“It’s a two-way road, though,” you say finally.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“I mean, I could have also come and talked to you instead of letting things escalate,” you say. “I played some part in all of this… unpleasantness. You can’t entirely blame yourself.”

Jeonghan smiles again, reaching out to ruffle your hair the way Seungcheol always did. Then he takes a dramatic deep breath and rolls his shoulders, “There! That feels better, doesn’t it? We can finally be friends!”

You roll your eyes in a playful manner, but you feel it too, a weight has been lifted.

*****

Wonwoo showed up at your door in the middle of the night that night. You took one look at his frantic face and groaned, “I told Jeonghan I would tell you myself.”

“You should have told me immediately!” your brother pouts as he passes you to walk into your apartment.

“I didn’t want to worry you so late, especially when all of you were having a good time. I was going to tell you tomorrow,” you close the door behind him. You watch as he turns on the TV and starts picking through your pantry. “Hmmm, yes it seems quite clear that you came here out of concern for me,” you can’t help but use a sarcastic tone.

Wonwoo sends a glare your way as he grabs snacks and settles on the couch. You sit next to him, grabbing your fair share of the food. You try to keep your attention on the show, but the feeling of Wonwoo staring straight at you is distracting.

“I’m fine, you don’t have to worry,” you sigh.

“Really? Because Jeonghan described you as an emotional wreck,” your brother scoffs.

“I was just shocked and upset. I’ll be ok. I have a good resume, I can find a new job,” you insist.

“I keep telling you, you don’t have to work-”

“I don’t care how much you make,” you interrupt. “I’m not going to depend on you. It’ll just make trouble for both of us.”

“Will you at least let me help out if there’s any problems before you find a new job?” Wonwoo kicks at your leg.

“Like I would even tell you if I was having trouble,” you return his kick.

“You just can’t help but be difficult,” your brother complains quietly.

You let the sound of the show take over the room for a few minutes. “I do have good news,” you finally speak up, wanting to give your brother some peace of mind about something. “Me and Jeonghan made up. We figured it out.”

Wonwoo bolts upright with a grin on his face, “Really??? It’s really all good now?”

“100%,” you say, unable to stop yourself from pinching your brother’s cheeks, finding his excited expression cute.

“Let’s celebrate soon then! We can have a big gaming party with all of the boys!” You agree to your brother’s proposal. You feel content in this moment, knowing you’ll wake up in the morning in an uncomfortable position, immediately kick at his legs and tell him to get his stinky feet away from you.

*****

Your time at the dorm increases with the weight of you and Jeonghan’s rivalry being gone. You’re enjoying getting to know him as a friend instead of constantly walking on eggshells around him. Going to visit the boys is once again a happy and comfortable experience.

You hadn’t realized how much Jeonghan had affected you until you two had worked things out. The world felt light again and you could breathe, no longer in constant worry of possibly ruining things between your brother and his bandmates.

You hoped things would remain without complications for a long time.

*****

“Seungkwan, you should come with us!” you begged. “The carnival only comes once a year; you can’t miss it!”

“But it’s so crowded and there are screaming kids everywhere,” Seungkwan complains.

“Oh, whatever,” Soonyoung interjects. “You love it every time we go.”

Seungkwan gives Soonyoung a look that has you laughing through your mouthful of ramen. “Oh, shoot,” you say feeling liquid start to dribble down your chin. “Can I get a napkin?”

“Here’s one,” you hear Jeonghan’s voice as he enters the room. You reach out to grab the napkin as Seungkwan and Soonyoung continue bickering. But instead of handing it to you, Jeonghan extends his hand not holding the napkin towards you. His fingers come to lightly touch your chin and turn you towards him. Jeonghan wipes your face with the napkin himself, taking the time to make sure it’s really all clean. “All better,” he smiles at you, running his thumb across your chin to check its cleanliness one last time.

As Jeonghan walks away, you turn to see if Seungkwan or Soonyoung saw what had happened. They were still arguing, though. The boys showing you physical touch or affection wasn’t really all that uncommon. But for some reason, the way Jeonghan had grabbed your chin just now… Why was your heart beating so hard?

*****

You couldn’t stop yourself from dragging Wonwoo all over the carnival. It was nice to get out in this environment, the lights, the laughter, the food, the games, the rides. You wanted to do everything, but not before you looked at all there was and took in the spectacle.

You could hear all the boys laughing excitedly behind you, you knew they’d want to try everything as well. You shook your head at Seungkwan’s bright expression, you couldn’t wait to play the ‘I told you so’ card later.

The night was a blur. All of you ran from games to rides to snacks and then all over again.

You couldn’t help but stop completely in your tracks as you passed a booth with a giant stuffie of your favorite animal as a prize. Your fascination with the plushie doesn’t go unnoticed.

“You want me to win it for you?” Jeonghan’s voice is suddenly speaking right into your ear. You jump after realizing he was right behind you. You grip your cotton candy a bit tighter and shyly nod. The way Jeonghan grins at you fills you with warmth.

You watch him walk over to the booth. His light hair and pink shirt were illuminated by the soft glow of the surrounding lights. Jeonghan takes his wallet out and hands some bills to the vendor. You step up closer to stand next to him as he plays the game. He laughs as he chats back and forth with the vendor. You watch in awe as Jeonghan clears the game, no problem.

“Anything from the top shelf!” the vendor exclaims happily.

“That one please,” Jeonghan points right at the stuffie you had been staring at.

“It’ll be a wonderful memory for your girlfriend,” the vendor smiles as he hands the prize directly to you.

“Oh, I’m-”

“Of course!” Jeonghan interrupts you almost instantly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and starting to pull you away from the game. “We’ll cherish it for a long time! Thanks for the game!” The vendor waves kindly as you two walk away. After a moment, Jeonghan pulls his arm off of you, “Sorry, sometimes it’s just easier to agree than explain, you know?” You nod in agreement. “Wait a second,” he stops you by putting his hands on your shoulders and standing in front of you. Before you can ask what’s wrong, his hand comes up towards your face as it had earlier that day. He quickly swipes his thumb across your lips before pulling to back to show you remnants of your cotton candy. “Do you always eat this messily?” he grins and then, to your surprise, puts his thumb in his mouth to clean it off.

You stand there, frozen, unable to really comprehend what just happened as Jeonghan walks away towards the other boys.

“For the second time today?” Soonyoung is suddenly standing next to you.

“So you did see what happened earlier!” you exclaimed, hitting his arm lightly. “It was weird, right?!”

“Can’t tell yet,” Soonyoung replies cocking his head to the side and putting his hands in his pocket. “Sometimes Jeonghan is just sort of naturally flirtatious. But I’m not sure about you. I figured since you two didn’t get along at first, it’d take him awhile to warm up to you at that level. He seemed to get comfortable with you quite quickly.” Soonyoung turns and shrugs at you after his words.

“You’re no help at all,” you say emotionlessly. There’s a pause before both you and Soonyoung slowly look at each other and laugh at your quip.

You decide to brush off your new concerns about Jeonghan and enjoy this night with the boys. The vendor was right, it was a good memory, and you’re sure it’d last you for your whole lifetime.

*****

You hate yourself a bit for it, but you once again seem to be avoiding Jeonghan. He had made you so nervous that day, and the way your heart pounded… You didn’t want to get sucked into having a silly crush on him if he wasn’t actually trying to flirt with you.

No, from now on, interactions with Jeonghan would be friendly but short and appropriate.

You were stupid to think he wouldn’t notice.

It wasn’t long before there came a night when Jeonghan insisted that he be the one to give you a ride home. You couldn’t help the way your nerves spiked at his determination to be the one to take you. You knew he most likely wanted to talk to you about your sudden distance from him.

The ride itself was nice, Jeonghan rolled the windows down for you, remembering that you enjoyed the warm night air of summer. You talked comfortably with one another. Jeonghan was always able to make you smile so easily.

You couldn’t stop yourself from staring at him. He was just wearing a t-shirt and sweats but… His blonde hair being illuminated in the moonlight as he ran his hands through it and his bright smile as he laughed...

He really was beautiful.

Once again, Jeonghan came with you to walk you to your door. And once again, he finally spoke up in the elevator, “You’ve been avoiding me, sweetheart.” Your heart drops to your stomach at the nickname. “Is everything ok? Did I do something to make you mad again?”

You quickly shake your head and pull your hands up to shake them as well, “No! Not at all!”

“You sure?” he insists.

“Yoon Jeonghan, you really don’t think I’d tell you if you did?” you say.

He giggles, “Yeah, that’s true. You’d let me know the moment I messed up, wouldn’t you?” The elevator dings and opens up to your floor. You and Jeonghan step out together. “Is everything else ok, then? You don’t start avoiding people for no reason.”

You nod as casually as possible, “Everything is great.” Your tone isn’t convincing and Jeonghan nudges you. “I guess, I just got… nervous? I mean one moment we were like enemies and then the next we were suddenly really… close, and-”

“I made you uncomfortable?” Jeonghan’s voice is slightly panicked.

“No, you did nothing wrong! It’s all on me, I just got caught up in my emotions and-” you stop abruptly when you realize what you were about to do.

Jeonghan nods quietly as if to say he understands, but what it is he understands, you’re not sure. “Is it ok for us to remain close, or do you want me to back off?”

“I don’t want any more distance between us, but…” you trail off.

“But, what?” he prompts you again.

“I don’t want to get the wrong idea about anything…” you say, finally reaching your door.

Jeonghan watches as you slowly unlock your door and push it open, “You haven’t gotten the wrong idea about anything.” He avoids eye contact when you look up at him.

You’re shocked by his forwardness. But once he voices his thoughts out loud, you once again feel the feeling of a weight being lifted.

Jeonghan gestures for you to step inside, catching your arm once you fully pass him. He pulls you back to him, close enough for him to lean in and leave a quick kiss on your cheek, “Night, babe, I’ll see you later.”

You stand there, completely still, staring at your door that had shut closed in front of you. You can feel heat rise from the tip of your toes all the way up to your ears. You finally let yourself fall into a squatting position, covering your face with your hands, and letting out a squeal.

*****

Jeonghan invites you to meet up outside of the dorm. It’s a cute little coffee shop at a quiet part of the city. You’re already sitting when he walks in. Maybe one day, you won’t be completely caught off guard by his beauty… but today is not that day.

His whole person is bathed in the glow of the early morning light as he approaches you, the softest, most genuine smile gracing his face.

“No, don’t get up,” he says when you try to leave your chair, “I need to go off and order anyways.” Jeonghan leans down to kiss your forehead firmly. “I just wanted to come say hi first,” he whispers, holding your face close to his.

Your first date sets a wonderful precedent to the rest of your relationship. Jeonghan gets your heart racing with flirty comments and sweet touches. But he also makes you feel calm and content, easily keeping a smile on your face. You just feel… good throughout it all.

You insist on walking him back to the dorm, since they had schedules that day.

“So, we’ll be doing this again?” Jeonghan asks hopefully, as you reach the front door.

“Definitely,” you nod enthusiastically up at him, wondering how you had ever managed to despise the man that made you feel so whole and happy.

Jeonghan looks utterly happy and a tiny bit nervous as he stares down at you. His hand reaches up to brush back your hair before settling firmly against your face. Jeonghan looks at you so fondly as he leans in. His lips connect to yours… so softly… so sweetly. You can feel his nose nudge against your face to push it into a preferred position. He pulls back slightly after every little kiss to let out laughter so sweet, it sounds like it should be coming from the mouth of an angel. But he’s never far away for long, reconnecting to you quickly every time. You let him take the lead, allowing his lips to take care of yours, giving them the sweetest kind of attention. He pulls back for a moment longer to nuzzle his nose against yours, an action that has you gripping his shirt to keep him close. His hands keep themselves entertained by running across your face or through your hair.

He’s going back in to kiss you once again when he front door of the dorm opens, leaving you caught in the act. Wonwoo stares at you two for a long moment before making a single comment that causes you and Jeonghan to laugh.

“You know, when I said I wanted you two to have a better relationship, this isn’t exactly what I meant.”

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