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bunny-xoxo · 3 years

Text

Laundry Day

Modern!Armin x fem!reader

18+ MINORS DNI

warning(s): oral(f) receiving, masturbation(m), swearing

a/n: ok so this is like my first full blown smut piece on here 😳 and I wasn’t expecting it to be about Armin either wbshdhehkws but I was talking with @armins-futon about him andddd here we are so I hope y’all enjoy 🤪 ALSO CONGRATS ON 400 BB THIS IS OFFICIALLY A GIFT POST FOR YOU AND YOUR MILESTONE‼️‼️

gif not mine, credit to owner

Armin grunted ahead of you as he walked into the laundry room, huffing as he set the laundry basket down.

“Ya know, I’m pretty sure I don’t need help doing laundry sweetie.” He looked at you over his shoulder where you stood quietly peeking in the doorway.

You rolled your eyes and sauntered over to hop onto the dryer where you swung your hanging feet, your heels hammering into the cold metal.

“How the hell did you hear me? I wanted to scare you.” You sighed and crossed your arms, leaning back to rest your head against the cupboard behind you.

It was a little game you guys played, and buy you guys I mean only you. You loved getting Armin startled. Well you think you would if you were ever actually successful in doing so. You’d hide behind doorways, under beds, in the closet, even in the garage after he’s come home from work but nothing ever worked. And it was starting to really bum you out.

“Don’t pout because it didn’t work, maybe you’ll get me next time.” He always said this, too.

You scoffed and turned your head to watch him. His toned arms were digging deep into the basket to pull out the last of the laundry, and the small of his back was showing from the way he was bent over to properly reach the clothes. He pulled his arms out but instead of grabbing laundry he grabbed your shins, looking up at you from his position. He was holding your legs flush against the dryer, preventing you from swinging your feet to bang loudly on it.

“Stop.” His tone of voice made you squirm.

You nod your head and give him a little smile, slightly embarrassed at how easy it is for him to affect you like that.

He stands up and stretches his arms after putting the last of the laundry in, his stomach peeking out from the bottom of his shirt, and he starts to move in front of you. You swear he does shit like that on purpose sometimes.

Standing in front of you now, he pushes your legs apart by the plush of your inner thighs and slowly moves his hands to the outer bits of them, taking his time to really feel how soft your skin is, before he roughly yanks you forward and closer to him. The metal pulls at your skin in the process and stings a little, but now your face to face with him and the discomfort is long forgotten.

“‘Scuse me sweetie, don’t want you to hit your head.” He drags his left hand up your side to cup and move your head into his chest, and with your face buried there you can still smell his body wash from his shower that morning. And when he closes the cupboard he pulls your head back by your hair, only slightly tugging on it, to kiss your nose and go back to doing laundry.

Now that he definitely did on purpose.

After pouring in the detergent he grabbed, he opted for setting it on the dryer instead of putting it back, picking you up off of it and grabbing onto your hand to pull you into a hug. This was only so he could get better access to whisper into your ear, “c’mon, let’s watch something while we wait for them to be done.”

His voice was soft and low, sending chills down your spine as you simply nodded.

You both plopped onto the couch to find something mindless to put on for the next half hour. His arms snaked around your waist and pulled you into his chest after he pressed play, his fingers drawing mindless figures onto your skin.

You guys sat like this for most of the time when you were suddenly struck with an idea, noticing how he was starting to doze off.

“I’ll be right back, I gotta go pee.” You peeled his arms off you when he hummed in response, quietly padding off to the bathroom. Of course you didn’t really have to use the bathroom, you were gonna scare him.

You waited a few minutes in the hallway with your hand over your mouth, doing your best to stifle your giggles. If he wasn’t practically asleep when you left you were sure he’d have heard you by now, maybe that’s why it never worked.

You waited a minute more before crouching down and crawling into the living room. You were moving as slowly and silently as humanly possible until you reached the end of the couch.

You shot up and shouted, thinking you’d really done it this time, except he was no longer peacefully sleeping on the couch like you’d left him.

You thought maybe you waited too long and the timer went off before you could scare him. But before you could turn around to try to find him you felt strong arms lift you up from behind paired with a shout.

You felt your heart jump and let out a little holler even though you knew the culprit was obviously Armin.

You groaned and smacked his arms while he carried you to the couch.

“Ugh! No fair Armin! I never get to scare you and now you scare me?!”

He set you down on the couch on your back and hovered above you, still chuckling to himself as he reached down to cup your cheek.

“Aww I’m sorry baby, but I wouldn’t be a good boyfriend if I let you win.” He was smiling sweetly but his tone was nowhere sweet, it was condescending and mischievous.

“Yeah whatever.” You smacked his upper arms but let your hands linger there, squeezing the muscle lightly that was tense from the way he was holding himself up.

You let your eyes wander down his arms and to his chest before you looked back up to his face. You could feel your cheeks immediately start to get warm when you realize how obviously you had just gawked at him.

“Yeah?” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice when he said that.

You groaned and hit his chest this time, refusing to look at him.

You could feel him lean down closer to you, his body heat making you even warmer.

“Here, let me make it up to you for scaring you so bad, yeah?” His throat sounded dry when he whispered that, swallowing after he spoke and kissing your cheek lightly.

He wanted you as bad as you wanted him.

His soft lips began leaving what started out as sweet kisses down the side of your neck and on the bits of your chest that were exposed, but now they were wet and needy with bites littering your collar bones.

“Armin, please.” Your voice was breathy and strained.

You were desperately pawing at his shoulders as he moved his hands to your shorts. You lifted your hips as he pulled them down along with your underwear.

“I know pretty girl, sit up for me.” He sat up on the couch and brought you with him, awkwardly adjusting the two of you until your back was resting against the cushions with your thighs resting on his shoulders.

He was on the ground in front of you, kneading the tops of your thighs as he bit along the inside of them, making you jump slightly and quickly grab handfuls of his hair.

You bucked your hips towards him when he left a pathetic kiss to your lips, his warm breath teasing you.

This was his favorite way to have you, legs spread and exposed for him. You whining and doing your best to convince to just touch you with your body squirming.

He moved his arm to bring two of his long fingers to your pussy, spreading your lips to see you desperately clench around nothing.

“Armin!” You pulled on his hair again and he was brought back down, looking up at your face and smiling sweetly.

“Sorry baby, I forgot this was about you.” He chuckled and kept staring at you while he shoved his middle finger in you at an agonizingly slow pace.

You tried to move your hips out of instinct but Armin’s other hand was keeping you in place now.

“I know baby, I’ll give you more. I’m just making sure you’re ready first.”

That was always his excuse when he was teasing you like this.

But before you could complain he had 2 fingers inside you and was curling them up at just the right spot.

You let out an erotic moan and tried to pull his face closer to where you wanted him most.

“Yeah? You want my mouth, too?”

You feverishly nodded and looked down to see his eyes dark with his pupils blown and flushed cheeks. God could he just start already.

He pulled his fingers out of you and moved his hands to spread your thighs even farther, the burn worth it when you finally felt his mouth on you.

He buried his face into you and wasted no time in running his tongue along your inner folds, humming to himself when he first got a taste of what he’d been needing.

He brought his hand up to spread your folds and shake his head slightly, making his tongue work hard against your clit. That wasn’t enough for him though.

He moved his hand so his thumb could rub your clit as his tongue fucked your hole, needing to taste more of you. The closer you got the harder you pulled on his hair, only making him groan in response.

He brought his other hand to his cock, shoving his hand down his sweatpants to give himself even a small sense of relief, his head swollen and dripping with pre-cum at how bad he needed you.

“Fuck baby, do you know what you do to me?” He pulled away breathless, his mouth and chin glistening and his eyes glossy, you could see his chest heaving from where you were and slight movements from his left arm let you know exactly what you do to him.

He didn’t give you a chance to respond when he dove back in, latching onto your clit this time and sucking harshly, effectively pushing you over the edge.

“Oh, god, f-fuck!” You whined and groaned, rolling your hips against him as you rode out your orgasm, Armin not letting up once til you lightly pushed on his head.

“Baby, please, I’m done.” You panted and closed your eyes, relaxing into the couch cushions behind you.

He sat up and you caught a glimpse of the wet spot and tent forming in his sweatpants before he pulled them down to let his cock spring free,

“Oh? You’re just gonna leave me like this?” He was breathless too, and even though he sounded cocky you knew how desperate he was for your touch.

You looked up at him with hazy eyes and a lazy smile, sitting up slightly as you reached out.

“Well, I gu-“

You were rudely interrupted by the timer on your phone signaling it was time to move the clothes from the wash.

Armin jumped, startled, and turned the phone off.

“Fucking- stupid- ugh.”

He tossed the phone angrily onto the other side of the couch and huffed at your amusement from his scare.

You giggled one last time and wrapped your hand around his cock, biting your lip at the sight of him groaning and, this time, grabbing your hair, watching you intently.

You smiled up at him sweetly, “don’t worry, the clothes can wait a few more minutes.”

——————

PLS TELL ME ALL YOUR THOUGHTS POSTING THIS IS SCARY AND IM DESPERATE FOR VALIDATION

I hope you guys liked it 😭😭😭

-🐇out

taglist: @plutowrites @armins-futon

#aot smut #attack on titan smut #snk smut #shingeki no kyojin smut #armin arlert #armin x reader #armin smut #armin headcanons #armin hcs #armin x you #[h*rny.hours😐]#minors dni #armin x y/n

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divinefireangel · 3 years

Note

Hello ✍️Writer✍️, I would like to 🤌request🤌 a reaction where their s/o likes ❣️kissing❣️ their ❤neck❤ 🌠Innocentlly🌠but it 🌌turns the 🕺Bois💃 on🌌 🤡accidentally🤡 Thank you for blessing us with your Beautiful 🤌 beautiful 🤌 works✍️❣️

Idk why but so many emojis are making very happy 😂

I HAVE SO MANY DRAFTS HELP

Warnings: Suggestive? Fluff? Crack? Well idk. Mentions of food. Domestic af SF9. Yes that is a warning. Sensitive neck! SF9. Just go with it 💀.

Youngbin

"I'll hug you and you click the picture"

"Okay. But you'll have to help me angle it properly cause of your outfit."

"I know I know. Just turn it a bit towards me. Okay. Yes!" You exclaim finally happy with the angle. Clicking a good number of selfies with your boyfriend Youngbin, you check them to make sure that you atleast got a few you can post.

Monitoring the pictures along with you, Youngbin holds you close to him even after the photo session. You see, there was a wedding. One of your friend's. And being your boyfriend, Youngbin offered to be your date.

So here you both are, all doll'd up and pretty, finally taking couple pics after what seems like forever. Smiling happily you bounce on your feet. The pictures turned out perfect!

To celebrate, you kiss him joyfully, well you ended up kissing his neck because that the height you are able to reach with your heels right now. Pulling away with a small smile, a frown takes over when you notice your lipstick mark on his neck.

Widening your eyes, you panic trying to figure out how you can remove the mark quickly. Remembering that you have tissues in your bag, you take take it out and begin to clean.

"I'm sorry. I forgot I had lipstick." You say sadly, but concentrating on the task in hand. Youngbin, however, is still frozen in his spot, not even moving his eye lids. When you finish and move away, he breathes out contracting his chest.

"Jagi." He huffs slowly. "You, you can't just do that." He says in a small pout.

"Do what?" You look in his eyes. Realizing that you meant nothing by it, his face just breaks into a smile.

"Nothing. Let's go. Or we're going to be late!" He exclaims wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you to walk with him.

Inseong

A lovely afternoon spent with your boyfriend. Aka. You having your nose in your novel and him having his nose in his novel. It's actually something you both do often. And then comes the regular discussing favourite parts, which he claims is the best part of your mini book club.

You were both seated at opposite ends if the couch, when you huffed closing your book. Now, normally you would've finished it, but for some reason your eyes were starting to lose focus. Maybe it was stress or overworking. Keeping the book on the table in front of the couch, you slowly crawl away from your side to his.

Peering over his shoulder, you try to see what page he is on.

"What are you doing?" Inseong asked with a smirk.

"Nothing. Just cuddling my super cuddly boyfriend" you said whilst moving your legs on his lap and hands landing around his shoulders. Kissing his cheek with a smile, you nest your head in his neck, closing you eyes when you feel his arm on your back.

Blinking your eyes open, you mindlessly pout, tired and a bit bored. 'Hmm, he smells nice', you think to yourself. Sliding your head back a little on his shoulder, you start to drag your pouty lips against his neck, occasionally pecking it too.

Biting his lip, Inseong shuts his eyes, moaning in satisfaction as you kiss his neck. Giggling at his reaction, you stop what you're doing. "Are you actually getting turned on by me just kissing your neck? " you ask with the biggest smile on your face.

Reciprocating your smile, Inseong chuckles, opening one of his eyes to look at you. "Not my fault. You just know how to drive me crazy for you." He says leaning forward to capture your lips in a dizzying kiss.

Jaeyoon

Sitting on a chair near the dining table, Jaeyoon scrolls through his phone, scouring for a new recipe to try out. Finding one that seems interesting, he clicks on it and starts to read. Being so engrossed in learning it, he fails to notice you come out of the bedroom.

Almost walking past him towards the fridge, you stop in your tracks and decide to have some fun. Tapping his left shoulder, you wait for him to turn but quickly move to the right. Snickering silently, you repeat the same action again, now tapping his right side, but he notices your hair before you moved.

Chuckling he looks down shaking his head. "Jagiya, you're very cute. But not very slick." He laughs when you whine into his neck. Relaxing onto his back, you pout sadly.

"What are you seeing?" You ask curiously.

"A new recipe you might like. I think we have all the ingredients, so I was planning on trying it. What do you think?" He hums in question, raising a hand to pet your hair.

"Okay. I'll be happy with whatever you feed me." You reply genuinely. Playing a kiss on his cheek first, he turns to look back to his phone smiling. But you wanted to kiss him more. So instead you just choose to kiss his neck.

Licking your lips a little, you press a medium kiss on his neck, making his stop everything he was doing. Unfazed, you walk to the fridge to take a cold water bottle from it. Turning you gasp, almost colliding into Jae's chest.

"Jae... " you say looking at him, wondering why he's standing so close to you. Sighing he leans down to your height, kissing you on the lips once. Twice. Thrice.

Keeping the water bottle on the kitchen counter next to the fridge, you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, feeling his back muscles as you make out with your boyfriend. Loving your reciprocation, Jaeyoon lifts you off the ground and makes you sit on the counter, not breaking the kiss for one second...

Dawon

You gasp in surprise when you feel a strong chest hug into you. Kissing the side of your head, Sanghyuk smiles, happy to finally have you in his arms after another long day of work.

"Hi"

"Hi baby. You took a shower?" You ask, noticing that he's wearing only sweatpants.

"Yeah. I went to the gym after work." He replies, walking towards the mirror to apply his moisturizer.

Nodding you change out of your work clothes, finally feeling like you can breathe again. Now it was your turn to hug him.

Approaching him slowly, you tickle your way around his torso and abs, resting your forehead against his ear you sigh satisfactorily. Smiling widely at your clingyness, Sanghyuk continues to moisturize. "Tired?"

Humming a response you open your eyes and breathe out, having closed your eyes as soon as you hugged him. Pluckering your lips, you lean up to kiss one long sweet kiss on his neck. And then another next to it. And another.

"I thought you were tired." He says in a deadpanned tone.

"I am" you hum.

"Fuck it. I'll do most of the work then" Turning around, Sanghyuk stares down at you, biting his lip sexily making your breath hitch and mind go blank. Grabbing your waist in one hand to pull you flush into him, he leans down to connect your lips together while his other hand cups your butt, asking you to jump into his arms so he can take you to bed for a long, long night.

Zuho

You were laying across the couch, you boyfriend Juho sitting on the ground, his back on the same couch near your head. You were waiting for your lunch to be delivered, the app saying it'll take only a few minutes.

The day was spent well with taking the cats to the vet, then going grocery shopping and coming back home and putting them in their respective containers. Of course the whole ordeal tired you both out. So you decided to treat yourselves by ordering in.

You laugh silently as Juho played with Kompangg, making weird sounds to get the feline's attention and to make her meow. Huru of course the rebel, in his own world, sleeping cutely in his bed.

Pulling yourself forward by your arms, you place you head on Juho's shoulder, trying to help him play with his younger pawed child. When she finally meowed after a lot of both of your efforts, you cheer extending your arm to pet her ears.

Smiling at her doey eyes, you place an innocent kiss on Juho's neck, resuming your previous position on the couch.

"Why did you do that? " Juho asks, putting Kom in the ground. Turning to you with a smirk, Juho leans his hands on the couch.

"Do what?" You ask quizzically, cause you really didn't know. Looking at your clueless expression, Juho realizes that you didn't mean anything by that kiss. Pursuing his lips, he looks down on his lap, cringing at his dirty mind.

"Did you think I wanted sex?!" You accuse him when you figure out what he was thinking. Scratching the back of his neck, he laughs timidly trying to think of an excuse when the front door bell rang.

"Ah! Yes food's here!" He says quicky, sprinting off towards the door while you laugh.

Rowoon

Sprawled widely on the bed, Seokwoo replies to his texts with a pout on his lips while waiting for you to join him so he can cuddle you to sleep. Jumping onto the bed, you grab your pillow and lay on top of it for support while looking into his phone too.

"Why do you have so many at this time? "

"I ignored the group from morning." He replies.

Nodding your head, you sigh in exhaustion from the day's work. Pushing half of your body on his, you rest your chin in his neck and close your eyes. What you've been addicted to since dating him, was situating yourself on top of him whenever where ever he lies down. It always gave you warmth. And him a sense of feeling small. He also loves it when you give him a back massage or draw on top of his wide back, just for the fun of it.

"Okay! I'm done. Let's sleep." Seokwoo says making you open your eyes in surprise.

"Okie" you say in a small voice, bending down to peck his neck before rolling off him onto your side if the bed.

Opening his mouth for a good ten seconds, he licks his lips and turns his head to look at you. Seeing you wrap yourself in the comforter like a burrito, he blinks in confusion.

Once settled, you look at him in question, wondering why he isn't tucking himself in. "Why are you not turning? Are you okay? "

Your words pull him out of his trance. Opening his mouth to answer, but closing it again when he realizes that he doesn't have one, he just looks at you.

"Nothing. Good night." He finally says, wondering why such a simple action took him by so much surprise.

Yoo Taeyang

Smiling lovingly Taeyang stands in the kitchen preparing an even more love filled meal for you. He knows how you've only had a small breakfast, so he took it upon himself to make you something delicious for when you come out of the bedroom after attending all your meetings.

Humming along with the song playing in the background, he stirs the contents of the pot. "Y/N will like this." He says to himself. And as if you cue, he hears the bedroom door open and from there came out a very tired you.

Walking into the kitchen, you let your feet drag you till you're behind Taeyang. Wrapping your arms around his torso while being careful of the hot vessel on the stove, you rest your head on his back. "I hate work" you complain pouting.

"I know. " he agrees, chuckling at your childish behaviour. Taking in a deep breath, smelling the aroma of your lunch, you sway in happiness while still hugging Taeyang. Rising on your tippy toes, you place a small kiss on his neck, squeezing him tightly in your arms. Freezing he widens his eyes as his shoulders tense at your actions.

"You're amazing" you compliment him. Pulling away you begin to walk towards the bathroom, completely failing to notice your blushing mess of a boyfriend.

"You can't just do that!" He complains loudly to a still very clueless you.

Hwiyoung

Tired from overworking yourself, you close your eyes leaning back in your chair. Youngkyun was sitting next to you, doing his work. Noticing your despair immediately, he pauses and saves his work first, then yours.

"Let's go take a nap. We've been here long enough." He says, worry laced in every syllable.

Nodding you push your chair back a bit, until your legs are out. Lifting your arms up to him, you silently ask him to carry you to bed. Smiling at your cuteness, he obliges, not having the heart to say no to you. Like always.

And so he gently picks you up bridal style and walks to the bed. And just as, if not even more gently, he places you on the bed. Unfolding the blanket, he spreads it on the bed before getting in with you, making sure you are tucked in well.

Attacking him as soon as he's settled next to you, you throw one leg across his torso and intertwine your hands on his chest,nuzzling your nose shamelessly in his neck. Chuckling he starts to pat your shoulder, back and head, to put you to sleep.

Releasing a breath finally feeling relaxed, you turn your head up to kiss him, not really caring where you ended up kissing him, but you kiss him. "I love you" you mumble against his skin.

Biting his lip, he continues to pat you to sleep, while he lays there wide awake, still feeling the aftermath of your simple kiss. Little do you know, he's silently begging his hormones to calm down or else he will never hear the end of it.

Chani

A typical Saturday afternoon for the two of you. You are engrossed in your work while Chanhee is on his desktop playing games. Being cooped up in your work for so long, you decide that you needed to take a break. Probably a snack too.

Getting up from your position, you walk towards Chanhee's chair to wrap your hands around his shoulders. Smiling when he feels your presence behind him, he just continues to play his game. Playing a sweet kiss on his cheek, you lean your head against his temple, averting your attention to the screen.

"What"

"Nothing. Just trying to see what's so interesting in the game."

Lifting your head to look at him for a moment, you bend down and press your nose to his neck. Giggling at your action, Chani is about to protest when he freezes in his spot. Playing tiny pecks of admiration on his neck repeatedly, you close your eyes happy to be in his warmth.

"Stop! " Chani exclaims in surprise, pausing the game.

Opening your eyes at this sudden outburst, you look at him with curious eyes. "Why?"

"Do you- Are you- ah.... " Gulping he is at a loss for words. Staring at your with wide eyes he just opens and closes his mouth.

Blinking you giggle at his flush state, not really catching what's going on in his mind. "I'm gonna make myself a snack. When you decide what and how you want to tell me, I'll be ready." You laugh exiting the room, leaving a very dumbfolded Chani in your wake.

#not sure if this is the best 🥺👉🏽👈🏽#but i tried #sf9 #sf9 reactions #sf9 fluff #sf9 imagines #sf9 scenarios #sf9 x reader #sf9 x reader fluff

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furiosity-wills-the-cat · 2 years

Note

👀👀👀 could you do 2 with Kris and Ralsei? (platonic) thank you!

Thank you for the prompt!

word count: 1400

read it on ao3 HERE

or on tumblr under the cut

Ralsei tried not to think about the empty spaces next to him.

His friends weren’t gone forever. They were just staying in their own homes. That was where they belonged, until their next quest. He shouldn’t be so selfish, or negative.

Every noise echoed through the room and lingered, drawing more attention to how empty Ralsei’s little world was. Still, anything was better than deafening, powerful silence that used to be his only company. It had been so much quieter before Kris and Susie had arrived and made the world come to life.

He tried to take comfort in every new noise. There were the muffled thuds of his paws against his cloak, as he tapped his hands on his lap. The soft rhythm of his own breathing, which he tried to keep steady, though he found himself sighing more and more. The quiet humming of pure darkness coming from the fountain.

And then, the soft humming of the portal, growing louder.

“Kris!”

Ralsei didn’t quite mean to shout. He certainly didn't mean to stand up so fast he tangled his legs in his scarf. It was just difficult to contain the energy that flooded his veins.

“Kris?” He said again. “Susie?”

Still nothing. It had only been a few seconds. He should probably be more patient. He took a few steps away from the portal on shaky legs, holding his own paws and squeezing them to keep them still.

With a final magical hum, a blue and pink figure was deposited on the grass.

“Kris!”

Ralsei’s claws dug into the soft dirt of the ground as he held himself back from lunging at them.

“I missed you,” he said, with a cheerful laugh in his voice. Except, halfway through, his throat closed up, and then his lungs stopped working properly, so he ended the sentence feeling lightheaded and out of breath.

Kris hadn’t moved yet, so he shouldn’t either. He wrapped his scarf around his fingers to stop himself from reaching for them. Personal space was important.

They were laying with their stomach on the ground, facing away from him. The only movement from them was the twitching of their fingers on the ground. They shakily made a fist, filling their hand with grass, and then grunted in irritation.

“Do you need help?” Ralsei asked.

They didn’t respond. Or even move. After a moment of silence, he stepped closer.

“Kris,” he whispered, “are you okay?” Still nothing. “I’m a little worried, so, it’s fine if you don’t want to talk, but-”

With jerky movements, Kris pushed themself into a kneeling position. They sat on their feet, and leaned dangerously to the side, resting on an arm to keep themself upright.

At least Ralsei knew they could move, now. He watched, biting his lip to keep himself quiet as Kris’s head slowly sunk further toward the ground. Were they falling asleep?

“Kris?” Ralsei hoped that his voice sounded less shaky to Kris than it did to his own fluffy ears, which were also shaking. “Are you hurt? I can heal you.”

Kris froze. They exhaled loudly. Their head shook with the same clumsy movements, but it looked like a "no." They dug their fingernails into the dirt so they wouldn't fall.

“Okay! That’s fine,” Ralsei said, blushing from the awkwardness. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

He shouldn’t be standing, he was way too high up to talk to them. He sank to a sitting position and fiddled with his cloak until it was covering his legs and toes like a little blanket. He was cozy and comfortable. This was fine.

Kris transferred their weight to their other hand clumsily. They gritted their teeth and made a fist in the air. With a soft pop that echoed in Ralsei’s head, a sword appeared in Kris’s hand. Their lips twitched in what might’ve been a smile. Then,

they remained motionless, staring at the space in front of them. Their arm didn’t even quiver as they held the heavy sword in the air. Their fingernails were caked with dirt and bits of grass.

Ralsei was hypnotized by how out of place it seemed: the steadiness, and the light reflecting off of the shimmering blade. He only moved when Kris made another annoyed grunt.

“Kris? I’m not sure if I understand what you want?”

They sighed. Ralsei almost did the same. He had been thinking of his friends nonstop since they had left, but he had no idea what the proper response was for this situation. Even though he’d been preparing to help with the prophecy for his entire existence, he still felt completely unqualified to be Kris’s ally.

After a very long moment of awkward silence, Kris’s arm started shaking.

“Do you... want me to hold that for you?” He asked. “It looks really heavy. So if you’d like help? That’s what friends are for, right?” He tried so hard to sound princely, but he was sure that his uncertainty was evident.

Kris jerked their head, in a way that Ralsei hoped was a nod. He gently pried the shimmering blue sword out of their hands, and they didn’t seem to stop him.

“Okay,” Ralsei said. Now that the sword was in his arms, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. He tried to ignore how sharp and heavy, and probably deadly, it was, by keeping his vision focused on Kris.

Kris made a humming noise and then fell flat on their face.

“Oh my, Kris, are you…?”

He forgot about giving them space and reached for their hand. It felt cold and shivery. Without thinking, he started trying to wrap his pink scarf around their shoulders.

They finally moved, to shake their head.

“Sorry!” Ralsei said. “I didn’t mean to… I’m still learning about friendship. But I’m getting there. Thank you! For telling me your boundaries. And for being my friend, and…” He stopped, because he was getting teary-eyed, and that was the last thing Kris needed right now. He needed to keep the focus on helping them. Not on making them help him.

Kris dug their fingers further into the dirt and pushed themself back up to a shaky sitting position.

“Do you-”

They immediately whirled their head around to face him, and he fought not to show how startled it made him.

“Um, if you want to lean against me, that might be easier?” Ralsei offered.

Kris nodded, and Ralsei scrambled to their side, wrapping an arm around them. He wanted to pull them into a tight hug, but he feared that would make them uncomfortable, so he settled for casually leaning.

Another pop rang through the empty town, and he jumped.

Kris smirked, Ralsei was almost completely sure of it this time.

In their free hand, they held an entire pie. Slowly, they motioned toward him, and he realized they wanted him to take that as well.

“Do you need help slicing the pie? All you have to do is ask, I’ll help you with anything.”

Kris nodded and patted him on the shoulder awkwardly. They tried to use his shoulder to steady themself, nearly standing up, but Ralsei shifted beneath their arm, and they tumbled to their knees instead.

“I’m sorry,” Ralsei said. He tried to offer them a hand up, but they shied away. “Where are you going?”

Kris blinked at him. They pointed to the pie, and then at Ralsei.

“Is this… for me?” he asked, still deeply confused.

They nodded.

He had too many questions to even start sorting them all out, and it didn’t seem like Kris was offering any answers. They both stared at each other in silence for another long moment. Ralsei opened his mouth to ask a question several times, but couldn’t find the right words.

“Thank you,” he said, finally.

They smiled for a brief moment. Then, they stood up quickly, swaying wildly on their feet. Somehow, they didn’t fall over. Their legs were grass-stained and wobbly as they staggered the few steps back to the portal.

“Are you leaving already?” Ralsei clamped his hand over his mouth. “I mean, thanks for visiting. Don’t worry, I’ll be waiting… right here. Whenever you get back.” He smiled as warmly as he could.

Kris nodded, but they didn’t turn back to look at him before the light from the portal burned too bright to see them anymore.

“Goodbye, Kris,” he whispered. The only reply was the fading hum of the portal and the distant rumbling of the dark fountain.

#my writing #deltarune #dr #kris dreemur #ralsei #kris & ralsei #fic tag

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 4 years

Text

Jaskier's going through a bit of a dry spell. And that's fine, it's not the first time and life on the road isn't exactly conducive to getting laid frequently. But it's getting to be a bit much and even when they get to town, no one seems interested. Which is absolutely outrageous and Jaskier suspects it has something to do with the big, moody Witcher who seems to be stuck to his side tonight. Normally, he wouldn't complain about having Geralt there constantly, but tonight it's becoming a hindrance.

When Jaskier manages to slip off for a few minutes to order drinks and he runs into the stunning stable boy from earlier, he thinks his luck might be changing. The stable boy couldn't take his eyes off Jaskier earlier and Jaskier can only hope his opinion of him hasn't changed since then. He stands a little closer than necessary as they talk, forgetting about the drinks altogether and he pulls out all his best tricks. And Rowan gives back just as good as he gets, brushing his fingers down Jaskier's arm and slipping an arm around his waist. Jaskier is finally thinking they're about to get out of there when he feels Geralt slide up behind him.

Rowan quickly excuses himself and Jaskier takes a second to compose himself before turning to the Witcher.

"Who was that?" Geralt asks and to his credit, he doesn't seem to realize he's just intruded upon what was going to be a very good night for Jaskier. And when Geralt looks at him, totally unfazed and oblivious, he can't even blame him.

"No one," he says, smiling. "Shall we see about those drinks?"

After his first ale, a pretty young barmaid convinces Jaskier to sing for them. He only intends to play a song or two without pay - it is his livelihood, after all - but the crowd is enthusiastic and generous with the alcohol. And Jaskier never turns down a free drink. So he drinks for free and even manages to convince a few of his admirers to buy drinks for Geralt, too. He thinks he's being clever, and when Geralt lifts both eyebrows at him, he's tremendously proud of himself.

He plays a song for every drink, accepting requests from the benefactor, which means he plays a few songs twice and ends with a rousing rendition of Toss a Coin that has Geralt rolling his eyes all the way up to the rafters. The crowd cheers for more, but Jaskier's fingers are growing clumsy and he doesn't remember his lute having quite so many strings before, so he declines. He slips down from the table he's been sitting on and makes his way back to where Geralt is sitting near the fire.

The Witcher looks like he wants to be anywhere else, but there's an amused smirk playing beneath that frown and Jaskier is determined to get it to the surface. He slides up with a grin, ready to try and talk his way into one of those rare smiles, but he finds himself pulled forward instead. He's a little wobbly and then warm arms are around his waist, pulling him into Geralt's lap and pressing him against his chest. Geralt looks at him like he's trying to figure something out and Jaskier's cheeks burn.

"Hello," Jaskier hums.

Geralt shifts under him and his hands slip up Jaskier's back and under his doublet. Jaskier watches his expression, entirely unchanged as he feels him up in the middle of the bar, and the heat from his cheeks spreads lower.

He's never wanted to kiss someone as badly as he does now - other than maybe the last time he got drunk and looked too closely at Geralt. Only that time Geralt was sober and grouchy and this time- well, the empty tankards on the table speak for themselves.

Jaskier tips forward, bringing his arms up to rest on Geralt's shoulders and he grins at him, dipping down to kiss his nose. It wrinkles in response, but Geralt doesn't pull away and Jaskier wants to know just how much he'll let him get away with like this.

He twists his fingertips in the hairs at the base of Geralt's neck, sliding between them and twisting them around his fingers. No reaction. So he draws back a little, shifts in Geralt's lap so he can sit on his knees and touch his face. He starts slow, pressing his palm to his cheek, but when the only response he gets is a soft, stuttered breath, he pushes his luck.

Geralt's lips are soft under the pad of his thumb and Jaskier can barely breathe, so stunned that he's allowed to do this. He runs his thumb around his mouth, noting the way Geralt gives way to him. Gods, he must really be drunk to let him do this, and if Jaskier were sober himself, that thought would stop him. But he's past his limit tonight and he's wanted for so long to just be allowed to touch like this.

It's not even anything sexual, but his heart is racing and he knows Geralt can feel that, hear it. He knows Geralt is aware of every little way that he affects him and maybe that's why he's letting him do it. Maybe it's just as pleasing for Geralt to see him get worked up over it as it is for Jaskier to touch him.

Jaskier doesn't dare speak, his mouth is dry and he doubts the strength of his voice if he were to try. He slides his tongue between his lips and Geralt's eyes flick down, following the motion.

Oh, he thinks, that's interesting. He bites his lip and Geralt watches, even as Jaskier's hands move, tracing the vein in his neck and settling on his chest. He's used to being the center of attention, whether on a large scale or one-on-one, but until now, he's never been able to hold Geralt's attention for so long.

He's oblivious to the rest of the patrons as he tips down and presses their lips together. Geralt leans into it, sliding his hands to Jaskier's hips and pressing his fingers into the silky fabric of his trousers. Jaskier can barely breathe.

Geralt tastes like ale, but his lips are soft and the soft noises he makes when Jaskier presses against him are intoxicating. Jaskier moans as Geralt's tongue slides against his own, the heat in his body settling significantly lower.

Then Geralt pulls back, lips parted, and considers him for a moment before lifting Jaskier out of his lap and sliding out of his seat. Jaskier frowns. This was going so well, too.

"I think it's time for bed," Geralt mumbles and if that's not an excuse to get away from him, he doesn't know what it is. Jaskier's only satisfaction is that they're sharing a room, which tonight means sharing a bed and Geralt can't get too far.

He's thinking about curling up next to him - not his first choice for the night, but not a bad one either - when a firm hand wraps around his arm and he finds himself being led from the hall. It's only after he starts moving that he considers he might be in trouble. Maybe he pushed too far. But Geralt kissed him back, there was no mistaking that.

Geralt leads him out into the corridor and Jaskier hopes he's not about to get told off for taking advantage or something.

When he finds himself pressed against the wall, he's betting on it, but he doesn't remember much other than the kissing now which, he supposes, could be the problem. Before he has a chance to apologize, Geralt closes the space between them, pressing up against his chest and he kisses him again.

Once Geralt gets his hands on him, he doesn't stop. He pushes up Jaskier's chest, untucking his chemise and brushing the bare skin underneath. The breath catches in Jaskier's lungs and he tips his head back with a soft groan, pressing into the touch. Geralt's lips trail down from his mouth, dragging along his jaw and kissing a line down his neck. And it feels so good Jaskier can barely contain the little gasps and groans that pull from his throat. He pushes his hands up Geralt's chest and threads his fingers through his hair, humming as Geralt's hands slip lower over his hips.

He's tugged forward sharply and when Geralt shifts against him, he can feel the press of his cock against his hip. He moans out loud and Geralt growls against his shoulder, hauling him forward and pulling him toward the stairs.

They stumble up together but the going is slow. Geralt stops every couple of steps to press him up against the wall and kiss him, slipping his hands under his clothes and tugging at them.

Jaskier very much wants him to succeed in getting him out of them. He whines with every interrupted touch and presses into those that linger and when Geralt finally grows impatient and lifts him off his feet, Jaskier wraps his arms around him and kisses his face.

They make it to their room and Geralt climbs onto the bed, holding Jaskier against him. He drops onto his side, rolling so Jaskier is on top of him and all at once, his inhibitions are gone. Geralt shoves at his chemise, getting it up over his head and tossing it carelessly to one side. The shirt hasn't even hit the floor before Geralt's hands are on him again, hot and demanding and sliding under the hem of his trousers.

Geralt presses his hips up, rocking against him and Jaskier shuts his eyes, pressing his face into Geralt's shoulder. He moans as Geralt's cock presses against him and shifts so he can grind against him. It's like a bolt of lightning up his spine and Jaskier reaches between them, fumbling with the fastenings on his trousers. He gets his hands batted out of the way and Geralt pushes him up, getting Jaskier's trousers undone and shoved down his hips before attending to his own.

Jaskier doesn't wait to get out of his clothes properly before leaning back over Geralt and rocking against him. He slots his cock against Geralt's, choking back a moan as Geralt rocks up to meet him. They move together seamlessly despite Jaskier's level of intoxication and every thrust sends electricity up his spine. He wants him like he's never wanted anyone before and when Geralt's hands slip down to squeeze his ass, Jaskier paws at Geralt's shirt until he gets him out of it.

Geralt draws away, turning his head and reaching for something, but when Jaskier presses closer, he's distracted, looping an arm around his waist and rolling his head back against the pillows.

He's beautiful like this, Jaskier thinks, kissing his way from Geralt's sternum to his jaw. It's a pity more people don't get to see him this way - not that Jaskier is overly fond of sharing. For years, he has considered this moment and how it would all go down but now that he's here, thoughts of fucking Geralt senseless are pushed to the back of his mind.

Jaskier would love to fuck him, given the chance, and he thinks Geralt might even let him when he's like this. But Geralt is big, bigger than anyone else he's ever been with, and more than anything Jaskier wants him inside him. It might mean spending another night at the inn - he doesn't know if he'll be up to travelling in the morning - but it's worth it.

Without thinking, Jaskier reaches back behind himself, pressing between his cheeks and Geralt growls against his lips. He shoves at Jaskier's arm, pushing him out of the way to do it himself. His fingers are rough, but he's gentle, refusing to push into him despite Jaskier's groans of protest. Jaskier squirms and Geralt finally relents, digging blindly through his pack on the floor to find a vial of oil.

He drops it onto the bed and helps Jaskier out of his trousers before pulling him close again. He kisses him hard, biting his lips and groaning low against him and when his fingers press against him again, Jaskier's hips jerk forward. He ruts against Geralt as his fingers slide into him and he doesn't care that he's whining and begging for Geralt to fuck him. He doesn't care that all his finesse has gone out the window or that he's got his face pressed into Geralt's chest because it feels too good to care about anything else.

Geralt is impatient. Jaskier feels it in the jerk of his hips and the throb of his cock beneath him. But Geralt makes sure he's slick and open, pushing a fourth finger into him before Jaskier insists that he's ready. Geralt keeps his eyes on him, sliding his hands up to Jaskier's hips and Jaskier whines at the loss of fullness, but Geralt isn't waiting any longer. He lifts Jaskier, pressing his cock against him, and while his fingers press into his hips, Jaskier pushes back onto him.

It's difficult, at first, but Geralt's thumbs rub soothing circles into his skin and Jaskier wants him badly enough to push through the discomfort. Geralt's head drops back as Jaskier fully seats himself and he arches off the bed with the first thrust.

Jaskier rides him hard, biting down on his lip so hard he leaves bruises. He keeps his hands planted on Geralt's chest, groaning with every thrust and Geralt is surprisingly responsive. The first time, he thinks the groan is a mistake, a slip of his perfectly cultivated control, but then he moans again and a wave of heat rolls up the back of Jaskier's neck.

"Fuck, Jas-" he breathes and Jaskier isn't sure the name isn't just Geralt being out of breath, but he's determined to do anything to hear it again. And he does.

Geralt is more verbal now that Jaskier's ever heard him. He moans and sighs and breathes praise into Jaskier's skin and it's the most wonderful thing Jaskier has ever seen. It sparks something in him and he pushes harder, squeezes his thighs around him and makes Geralt moan and writhe and arch off the bed.

Geralt comes surprisingly quickly, digging his fingertips into Jaskier's thighs with his name on his lips. He falls back against the bed, rolling his head back as Jaskier rides him through it. If it was anyone else, he would get him through his orgasm and slide off. He'd get himself off or let his partner do it for him, but when he moves, Geralt's hands press down on him, holding him in place. And Jaskier lets him, shifting his hips slowly and Geralt's mouth drops open, a low moan pulling from his throat.

"Don't stop," he breathes and Jaskier doesn't plan on it. He switches it up a little, picking up speed and lifting off Geralt's cock before sliding back down the length of him again.

He makes Geralt come again before he's flipped onto his back and Geralt presses against him, sliding his fingers up the side of Jaskier's neck as he thrusts into him. Geralt's fingers brush against his lips, echoing Jaskier's motions from earlier before kissing him soundly and tangling his hands in his hair.

Jaskier comes with Geralt wrapped around him, his own legs fitted firmly around Geralt's hips. He cries out and Geralt presses a hand over his mouth, smiling at him as he slows the roll of his hips. Jaskier's thighs continue to twitch even after Geralt has pulled out and flopped over next to him. He feels like he weighs a thousand pounds and even tipping his head to return Geralt's kisses feels like an immense effort.

He's vaguely aware of being sticky and sweaty, but he shuts his eyes, just for a second, and doesn't give it a second thought. He shuffles toward Geralt and a strong arm slides under his head, rolling him over to lie on top of him.

They don't talk about it.

Things return to normal, but Jaskier can't help the constant ache in his chest. A part of him was hoping this might change things, that Geralt would realize Jaskier wanted him as more than a friend, but he doesn't even acknowledge the fact that it happened. Which is fine, Jaskier decides, so long as things don't get worse he can cope with not having Geralt like that again.

For a couple of weeks, things stay that way, the only thing out of the ordinary is that Geralt keeps away from cities and villages as much as possible. They stop during the days, but inevitably continue on before nightfall, camping somewhere along the path. Jaskier doesn't ask about it because it's not a huge change for them, but it does strike him as odd.

It's not until they do stop in another town that Jaskier decides to bring up their relationship. He knows Geralt doesn't want him and it hurts, but he wants to clear the air between them. He waits until they sit down for supper, pushing his food around on his plate. When Geralt calls him on it he looks up.

"What's wrong?" Geralt asks though he sounds more annoyed than concerned.

Not a good time then, Jaskier decides.

"Nothing. Just tired is all."

"Hmm."

Well, that's that then. Maybe it's best if he doesn't bring it up, anyway. So he shares a bottle of wine with a dark-haired man sitting at the side of the tavern. He sings and flirts and drowns whatever feelings he has for Geralt with wine and cherry vodka and the end of the night finds him in the man's lap, pleasantly drunk and distracted. He's having a pretty good time until he realizes Geralt is missing.

He'd just looked back for a second, an instinctive response after looking out for each other for so long, and Geralt wasn't there. And now he's worried about it. His friend hasn't seemed to notice yet and Jaskier isn't sure if that's a good thing or not. But then he kisses his neck and Jaskier lets himself melt into it.

Geralt is a grown monster hunter - if he can't take care of himself for a few hours, who can? It's not totally out of the ordinary for him to just slip away without being noticed, so Jaskier decides not to worry and when his companion rises from the table, Jaskier lets himself be led upstairs.

The next morning, Geralt isn't talking. This also isn't entirely out of the ordinary, so Jaskier pays it little thought as they pack their things and make their way out of town.

Only it wears on into the afternoon and early evening and then they stop near a lake for the night. Jaskier complains about drowners, but Geralt just waves him off, dumps his things on the ground and disappears.

"Okay," Jaskier says, quietly and to no one in particular. He looks to Roach for some sort of explanation, but she's grazing peacefully, unaware of whatever is bothering her Witcher.

Daylight is fading quickly now, so Jaskier has to get to work if he wants to eat and have a fire tonight. He sets his things down, charging Roach with the task of watching over them and she just swishes her tail as he walks off into the trees.

Finding firewood is an easy enough task in the forest, but once he gets it back and assembled into a pile, he's at a loss. He's only ever had to do this alone before once and even then, Geralt was there to walk him through it. He struggles unsuccessfully for what feels like an eternity before giving in and eating apples and bread for supper.

It's too dark now to set up the tent alone, so he lays out their bedrolls around the pile of sticks and plops himself down on his own. Whatever is wrong with Geralt, he hopes he gets over it quickly because he'll starve to death like this within a week.

When Geralt returns, Jaskier is happy to see him, but the joy doesn't last long. Geralt's still silent and broody and he lays down without so much as a word and shuts his eyes. By the sound of it, he falls asleep quite quickly but Jaskier lays awake for a long time.

When his eyes open, it feels like they've only just shut, but he jumps up in a hurry when he finds Geralt packing things into his saddlebags.

"Oh, are we off?"

"I am."

Jaskier frowns, sure that he misheard. "Where are we going now?"

"You're not coming, Jaskier."

Oh.

It's been so long since the last time they separated that Jaskier had just sort of expected them to go on like this indefinitely. Well, maybe not, but he's certainly surprised that Geralt is leaving now. Neither of them has any obligations and they’re in the middle of nowhere. He doesn't quite know what to do with himself.

It's not until Geralt is walking away with Roach in tow that he realizes this is probably about the sex and his heart sinks. He should have known better than to sleep with his only friend.

Weeks pass before they see each other again and in that time, Jaskier has managed to both work himself up into a fit over it and also completely push the thoughts of it from his mind. He flips back and forth between the two often.

He finds himself in Rinde, keeping clear of an angry wife in Houtborg, when he runs into the Witcher at a tavern.

He approaches as though nothing is wrong but Geralt visibly stiffens at the sight of him and a little of Jaskier's determination slips away. He convinces Geralt to share a meal with him, but he gets up as soon as they've finished eating, making for the door. Jaskier follows.

"What's wrong?" he asks, "what have I done?"

Geralt turns to look at him, hesitates for a moment, then turns and walks down the steps. And Jaskier is forced to watch him walk away a second time.

They wind up together again in the summer. It's been months since they've seen one another this time, and Jaskier left Oxenfurt late this year, so he's only been on the road for a couple of weeks. He's on his way to Cintra when they cross paths, ironically, to look in on the child surprise Geralt so adamantly refuses to acknowledge. He's on his way out of Wyzima when he catches word of a Witcher, hired to dispatch the ghoul uprising in the cemetery. And Jaskier knows he has to wait and see. So he books himself in at the inn for three more nights and frowns at his coin purse as he settles himself back in his room.

Geralt shows up on the second night when Jaskier is sitting at the side of the lake. Jaskier's heart leaps into his throat, but he knows something isn't quite right and he feels like if he doesn't do something, he might not see Geralt again. He pulls himself up, slips his lute over his shoulders and head after the Witcher.

When he catches up with him, Geralt already seems annoyed but considering that's a large part of his personality, Jaskier pushes through.

"Geralt," he says cheerily and he gets a frown in response. "What, no snarky comment? What are you doing here, it's been an age."

"A contract," is all he says and Jaskier fights the urge to roll his eyes.

"The ghouls?" he asks, "I suppose I should have known you'd show up sooner or later."

"Hmm."

"Geralt-"

"Don't you have anything better to be doing?"

"Well, er-"

"I'm busy, Jaskier."

"Oh. Right. I'll just do..." his stomach turns uncomfortably as Geralt brushes past him, "...something."

He starts off back toward the inn without turning around. Maybe Geralt really is done with him after what happened. It wouldn’t be the first time Jaskier's lost a friend after sleeping with them, but Geralt isn't like anyone else he's ever known. He's about to apologize and think about leaving town when Geralt's voice stops him.

"Fuck. Jaskier, come back."

"What?" he asks, turning to face Geralt. The Witcher looks at him, his expression maddeningly unreadable.

"You don't have to go," he says, though he sounds like it's a struggle to say it. "I'll... come back for you."

"Oh." Somehow, this is a more startling revelation than the idea of Geralt not coming back for him. "Okay."

Geralt turns back around and Jaskier returns to the inn to wait for him. He doesn't know what to expect when Geralt comes back, so he orders a pint and sits by himself. He thinks about what he's going to say and every different path he goes down leads him back to the same thing; he needs to be honest with Geralt. It's just about the last thing he wants to do while they're in this situation, but he doesn't like whatever this is now at all.

So Jaskier tidies his room and calls for a bath, digging around in his pack to find the proper salts and oils for Geralt. He sits and waits on the edge of the bed and when Geralt comes back, stiff and grouchy, Jaskier strips him down and gets him into the bath. It feels good to get his hands on him again, just to feel like he's allowed this little bit of intimacy.

"I missed you," he says and Geralt just grunts. But Jaskier isn't deterred. He pours water over his hair and works the soap through it, careful to get out all the bits of ghoul and dirt and... whatever. He takes extra care, keeping his mind off what he promised himself he was going to say. Geralt deserves to know the truth, as hard as it might be to say out loud. Jaskier rinses the soap from Geralt's hair and runs his fingers through his hair, working out all the tangles.

"Why do you always do this?" Geralt asks, looking down at his hands in the water. Jaskier shuts his eyes; he's never going to get a better lead-in than that.

"Because I love you," he says. "Because you're my friend, probably my only friend. And because it's starting to feel like this is the last time I'm ever going to see you and I'd like for it to be a good memory, hopefully for both of us."

"What?" Geralt asks, frowning.

"Forget it, it doesn't matter anyway." Jaskier pulls away and Geralt turns around in the tub. "I can't reach your hair from here."

"Forget about my hair."

"Fine-" Jaskier huffs out a shaky breath and turns toward the door, but Geralt grabs his arms and hauls him back. When he lets go, he looks up at Jaskier.

"Sorry," he breathes and Jaskier shrugs. He's done worse. But when Jaskier looks down at him, he looks lost, like he isn't quite sure what to say.

Geralt reaches up to him, and Jaskier knows he's said too much. It takes all his strength not to flinch away from the touch but he knows he can't. Geralt has only ever gotten hate and mistrust from everyone else and even if this is the end, Jaskier won't show him anything like that. Geralt deserves better.

But he's soft when he touches him, brushing his fingers across Jaskier's cheekbones and cupping his jaw. "I didn't know."

"Yeah, well-" Jaskier looks up and away and Geralt's hand slips from his cheek.

"So that night at the inn," he asks and Jaskier knows immediately what he means. There haven't been a lot of nights together since.

"Yes?"

"You weren't just bored and horny." He says it like he's only just realizing it himself and Jaskier is caught between exasperation and relief.

"What? No, absolutely not- is that what this is about? You keep running away from you because you think I fucked you because I was bored? Geralt, I'm-"

"I'm sorry, I didn't think you could-"

"What?" Jaskier asks, exasperated. "Want you? Geralt, you're bad-tempered and impatient and more often than not you reek like dead monster parts and I've followed you, every step of the way- into bogs and brambles and things I can't even describe. And I'm here, Geralt, for some Gods awful reason I'm still here. How could you think anything else?"

Geralt stares, evidently stunned into silence and Jaskier huffs out a breath. "And just look at you,” he teases, “have you seen you?" Geralt's face breaks into a soft grin and he laughs, nearly knocking Jaskier off his feet.

He reaches up, sliding one wet hand around the back of Jaskier's neck and Jaskier lets himself be pulled down to Geralt's level as their lips brush against each other.

Geralt hums against him, and once he seems satisfied that Jaskier isn't going to run away, he pulls him closer. He doesn't linger long enough for Jaskier to catch up with what's happening and when Geralt draws back, he slips his hands down his arm, tangling their fingers together.

"I’m sorry,” he says, “I didn’t think you wanted me.”

“I do,” Jaskier assures him, rubbing his thumb over Geralt’s knuckles. “I always do.”

Geralt’s lips twitch and he cocks his head. “Join me?"

"In your dirty bathwater?" Jaskier asks, breathless. "I don't think so."

"Hmm." Geralt stands up and winds his arms around Jaskier's hips, drawing him in again.

"Stop it," Jaskier huffs, "you're making me wet." His face breaks into a grin, belying his words and Geralt kisses him again. He keeps Jaskier occupied with his mouth as he lifts him up and climbs out of the bath, still dripping.

Jaskier pesters him to stop, that Geralt is going to soak him and the bed, but when he's on his back with Geralt above him, he finds he doesn't mind nearly as much as he thought. He squirms, slipping his arms around Geralt's neck, damp and happy and relieved, he finds he doesn't mind a little dirty bathwater.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #the witcher #rex writes #maybe one day this will have a title

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mowulf · 3 years

Text

You Gotta be Kitten Me

CH 2: It's only a flesh wound

A note on cat breeds, because I don’t feel like spending an absurd amount of time describing them. (Also only Spy would have any idea what the different breeds are because he’s fancy like that.) From largest to smallest:

Heavy - Blue maine coon. He’s the largest by weight and length and has the cat equivalent of resting bitch face.

Sniper - Savannah cat. He’s the tallest, but he’s lanky and not nearly as long as Heavy.

Demoman - You know those cats that are so black they’re basically walking black holes? Yeah, that’s him.

Spy - Tuxedo cat. Primarily black with white fingers, white chin, and a white triangle on this neck and chest. When he sits up straight he does, indeed, look like he’s wearing a tiny, furry suit.

Soldier - Siamese. He’s loud. He’s obnoxious. And he makes sure you know he’s there.

Scout - Egyptian Mau/DSH mix. Egyptian Maus are the fastest domestic cat breed, reaching up to 30 mph, and can leap absurdly high. While he’s got the build of a Mau, the DSH shows in his calico coat.

Pyro - Ruddy Abyssinian. They look vaguely burnt and, like Scout, are quite small. Yes, they wear a sock on their head. No, you won't be able to convince them to take it off.

-----

“Gentlemen, we have a situation,” Spy said as he looked around the room. The other cats stopped what they were doing and approached. No point delaying the conversation.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Scout said as he trotted over to shove Spy. “How come y’all get ta be so much bigger ‘n’ me? ‘S not fair.”

“That is beside the point, Scout.”

“That is exactly the point!”

”Scout.” Spy planted a paw on Scout’s head and pushed him away. Sniper got the hint and gently but firmly shooed Scout to the opposite side of the forming circle.

Demoman took a seat next to the awkward pair while Sniper attempted to figure out a way to gently pin Scout without accidentally crushing him and casually curled his tail around his paws. “It’s not all that bad,” he said casually. “We’re smaller, so we’ll be harder to hit. Pro’ly faster, too.”

Spy folded his ears and sighed deeply. “Really? Really? That’s what we’re going with? ‘It’s not so bad.’ Are you listening to yourself?”

Sniper flicked his tail and snapped, “Yeah, mate, we heard him just fine. What’s your problem?”

“My problem is a distinct lack of thumbs. Or did you forget?” The group fell silent as everyone examined their hands. Once he was satisfied that enough time had passed, Spy continued, “We didn’t just lose a few inches. Sniper is, at best, as long as his rifle, I can’t even hold a knife let alone stab anyone, and I’m reasonably certain the intelligence is twice Scout’s size.” He straightened up and settled a glare around the group. “We’re useless at best. Hell, Medic and Engineer would likely have an easier time in the next mission if we all just stayed at base. Especially if they have Heavy.”

A heavy silence descended on the circle. After a few moments Soldier stood up and yelled, “That’s still no excuse to not fight! We have claws! We have teeth! We’ll just have to fight them the old fashioned way!” His tail lashed as he spoke and at the end he reared back and swiped at the air.

Sniper was quick to shut that down by yelling, “That’s assuming we can even get close to anyone!” He puffed up and growled, high and deep. “We’re too small. We might catch someone off guard the first time, but then everyone will know to look out for us. Alone we stand no chance. As a group, we’re too obvious!”

“‘Sides, we need to get their intelligence back to base. Mission doesn’t end until someone has someone else’s briefcase,” Scout snapped, ready to jump up only to be pressed back into the floor when Sniper stepped on him.

“Those are the words of a coward! There are no cowards here! Or do I need to remind you maggots of that?” Soldier took a step forward, legs stiff and tail lashing in anger.

Sniper lowered his head and curled his lips in a snarl. “If you think I’m going to just throw myself into enemy fire with no hope of walking away, you’re a fool.” Scout squeaked as Sniper stepped on him to approach Soldier. Scout wanted nothing to do with the fight that was about to break out. While Sniper had the upper hand in terms of size, Soldier more than made up for that in crazy.

On the sidelines, the other mercs chimed in trying to break up the fight before it began, but no one was willing to actually get close. Even human, Soldier was not a force to be reckoned with. Once Sniper was no longer standing on him, Scout joined the rest in the safe zone.

Sniper and Soldier approached each other stiffly until there was only a few inches between them. Soldier’s tail continued to lash dramatically while Sniper’s only twitched at the end. For a long minute the pair simply glared and growled.

Soldier made the first move. Sniper flinched back when Soldier lunged forward, allowing the smaller cat to latch onto his neck and shoulder, back legs tearing at whatever they could reach. Sniper shrieked, swatted a couple times at Soldier, before running toward the nearest wall and throwing himself Soldier-first into it. Yelling broke out from everywhere, a combination of cat howls and human shock.

The impact didn’t knock Soldier loose and only seemed to make him more aggressive. The cat twisted and sank his claws deeper into Sniper’s shoulder while pulling with his teeth until he felt something give. Sniper responded by slamming into the wall three more times in quick succession, finally stunning Soldier enough to make him start to lose grip. That was all Sniper needed to finally stick his foot under Soldier and rip the other cat off.

He stumbled back a couple steps before lunging forward with a yell, only to be slammed into the ground by Medic. One hand grabbed the scruff of his neck and the other a fistful of loose skin near his rump and hauled him back, spitting and screaming. Engineer scooped Soldier before he could launch back at Sniper.

The two spit curses and profanities at each other until Demoman leapt between them and bellowed “SHUT UP!” Silence. “Soldier,” he turned to face, “this is not cowardice or abandonment. Think of it as a tactical retreat until we can figure out how to get the upper hand back.”

“That’s true,” Spy said. “We’re at a disadvantage. We need to figure something out.”

“But-” Soldier flinched when Demoman trotted up and bopped him on the nose. “We can’t-” Another bop. “Would you-” Bopbopbop Demoman stopped and hopped away when Engineer waved him off.

Once he was sure that Soldier had shut up, he turned his attention to Sniper. “And you!” Sniper bristled but remained silent. “If yer gonna fight, take it outside. You know th’ rules.”

More silence. Everyone waited tensely until Sniper finally sighed and Soldier relaxed. A collective sigh was released and the tension finally drained from the room.

“I’m going to need the medigun,” Medic announced. “I’ll be right back.” With that he released Sniper and left the room.

Soldier wriggled out of Engineer’s grip and the man made another grab for him but stopped when he saw the cats regather into the circle. Scout made a couple laps of the malformed circle, chirping in distress until Sniper finally dragged himself into their original spot, at which point he tucked himself firmly into the larger cat’s side. He made a few more distressed chirps as he eyed the mauled fur and flesh but was silenced when Sniper lay a paw across his back.

“Establishing communication should be our top priority,” Spy said once the circle had been properly reformed. “We can’t do much if Medic and Engineer can’t understand us.”

The other cats nodded and made various sounds of agreement only to fall silent when a deep voice rumbled, “Da.” Everyone turned to see an absolutely massive maine coon staring down at them. Even Pyro did a double take before scooting to the side to make space. There was a moment of reshuffling before Heavy finally took a spot and lay down, careful to tuck his lugs beneath him. “Doktor is dangerous. Keep distance and avoid his room.” He paused for a second, then added, “Avoid medbay, too. Anywhere he keeps birds.”

The circle gave another chorus of agreement. If Heavy was giving the warning, then extra caution needed to be used. Right as Spy was about to resume the conversation, Medic reentered, paused, and said, “Heavy?” Heavy looked up, flicked his tail, and then pointedly looked away. Sniper looked between the two before deciding they needed space. “I’ll be back,” he muttered before pushing himself to his feet and limping over to Medic.

Spy coughed to draw everyone’s attention. “As I said before, we’ll need to establish some form of communication. Does anyone have any suggestions?”

“What about morse code?” Soldier asked.

Spy hummed. “Not a bad idea, assuming either of them know any. I know a little, but not nearly enough.”

“Do you know enough to get food?” Scout whined, stretching and rolling onto his back dramatically. “I’m dyin’ over here!”

“Scout-”

“No! Shut up!” He hopped onto his feet and puffed. “I didn’t eat supper on account of I wasn’t feelin’ good, and we ain’t had breakfast. I can smell bacon an’ I’m starving!”

“Mmph! Mr hnng trr,” Pyro chirped, also jumping up and circling in place. Spy smacked his face and groaned, knowing that there was no hope of getting the impromptu meeting back on track. Not with Scout and Pryo now feeding each other’s energy. Best to get them both fed before they worked each other into a frenzy.

“What’d I miss?” Sniper asked as he returned to the circle.

“Somethin’ somethin’ marsh code an’ Spy’s gonna get us food,” Scout announced before anyone else could speak. Pyro hopped over, muffled chattering displaying their excitement over the prospect of finally getting to eat something. The rest of the mercs were eagerly discussing breakfast as Demoman took the lead toward the cafeteria.

Medic and Engineer watched as the cats all began filing out of the room. As Heavy passed, Medic leaned down to try and grab Heavy, only to jerk back when the cat whipped around and snapped at him. Heavy gave an angry huffed before ambling after the rest.

“Well,” Engineer said slowly, “That was… interesting.” He stood up from his spot on the floor and stretched. “What do you recon they’re up to now?”

Medic ran a hand through his hair, sighed, and hefted the end of the medigun off the floor where he’d set it after treating Sniper. “Don’t know. Don’t care. Keep an eye on them. I’m going to call Miss Pauling.”

“Good luck with that.”

Engineer trailed after the small army of cats while Medic heaved another sigh and made his way back to the medical bay. The medigun was easily put away and he took a moment to pet Archimedes before he left in search of the base phone. If he was lucky, Pauling would be free enough to swing by the base. She could wrangle everyone under control and figure out what to do next. Or at least give him some pointers on how to take care of cats. Then he’d have to run to town and get cat food.

Fun.

#tf2 #Team Fortress 2 #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #tf2 engineer #tf2 demoman #tf2 pyro #tf2 sniper #tf2 soldier #Hdfjksdjkl why are there so many characters to keep track of #I can barely handle 3 #let alone 9 #absolute chaos

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ahlis-xiv · 3 years

Text

journal 50.4

G’raha sat alone, semi-hunched over a piece of parchment as he worked. Although he did not show it, the drafting he ambitiously began was nothing short of a place between fascinating and downright tediousness. The solution to tempering that nestled within his mind and finding a proper way to convey it into some sort of physicality that others could understand took time and a level of focus that brought him back to his Studium days.

He did not mind the effort, really, yet part of him couldn’t help but feel he could be applying himself to something else...namely figuring out why his dear friend decided to depart in such a hurry without so much as a word.

G’raha sighed, and scratched out part of the formulae he attempted to use as a proper proof. It wasn’t correct or, rather, not good enough, and he knew it: it almost felt like he had to somehow invent a whole new notation and he was second guessing every attempt. That, he knew, was as strong a sign as any that he needed a break.

Abandoning his work for the more welcoming sight above Mor Dhona proper, he took to his usual perch and leaned over the ledge to watch the activity below. Ever since he arrived there—since waking up, really—G’raha found the habit of people-watching a welcome one when it came to clearing his head. It had also been an old habit as well from his time as the Exarch. It was difficult at times to not be reminded of it when he went there to be alone--not that it troubled him, but rather his thoughts inevitably wandered to those he had to let go. To old friends and, naturally, to her.

What would Lyna think, he wondered. Of everything? Despite assurances, both given and told to own self, he knew it was a question not quite answerable. He was unfettered, free—free to live the life he wished. A second chance. Yet something gnawed away at his heart that only grew in the wake of what occurred in Ala Mhigo. And the Warrior of Light was nowhere in sight.

He didn’t wish to admit it, but that this point most of all prickled his thoughts. She had been wounded in the confrontation: not severely but enough to warrant considerable healing, namely for her arms. She berated herself for not properly handling the situation, that it was foolish to not deal with Fandaniel and his summoning there and then somehow. When the dust settled with wounds seen to and mended, she slipped away and out of his reach.

G’raha’s hands clasped together in front of him, fretting as his anxiety swelled. Ahlis said many things in the aftermath at the menagerie; much of which he knew was said in a fury he rarely witnessed. He also knew he ought to not dwell on it, as it was not directed towards him—but it felt personal, watching the anger and the walls that suddenly erected around her, forbidding his approach. Surely she knew, she must’ve known that he cared—that they all cared? G’raha understood what it meant to seek solace, to lick one’s wounds after a poor bout in battle, yet to shut him out? Why?

He huffed a frustrated growl, and pouted to himself. This is not about you, G’raha, his more sensible self spoke in his mind. It did little to help when he knew naught what to do with his...feelings, with no soul to utter them to. For the moment, all he had in certainty, was himself.

Looking above to the darkening sky, stars were beginning to sparkle in the deep blue, the gloom weak and unable to hinder their shine. He hoped that wherever Ahlis was, and however she felt, that her safety was sure and her healing swift.

---

Ahlis suddenly grasped the pillow within her bare arms as a sneeze escaped her nose and immediately regretted it.

“Bless you, dearest,” Aymeric spoke above her, his hands gently working her back’s aches and pains into a soothing massage.

“Augh, no,” she said, voice muffled by soft cotton where she shoved her face into it. The great debate of whether she should lift her head up or not kept her in place, lest she reveal a potentially not-so-graceful mess. “I think I ruined it.”

Wordlessly and only with a soft chuckle of amusement Aymeric rose to retrieve a handkerchief as if reading her mind in her current discomfort. When he returned Ahlis was already sitting up, the pillow still pressed to her face. He did not know how to assure her that there were far worse things that could ruin one’s bedding, but seeing the flushed look upon her face while she cleaned herself as discretely as possible encouraged him to say nothing.

“Are you feeling better?” Aymeric asked, once she seemed satisfied to show herself, the pillow and handkerchief no longer covering her face.

“Yes, thank you,” Ahlis spoke, relief entering her voice. “I am sorry, about this, though.” Her hands still held onto the pillow until he reached for it himself, lightly tossing it aside and back onto the bed.

“It is of no consequence. My home is yours, including the aforementioned pillow.”

That made Ahlis laugh, as he hoped it would, and Aymeric took this moment to join her again, sitting side by side upon the edge of the bed. It was useless however to ignore the wrappings around both her palms and forearms, both of which had been kept out of sight when lying on her stomach. Catching his glancing eyes, Ahlis took that moment to adjust her bandages.

“The pain is mostly gone. Now it’s just itching,” she spoke, more annoyed than in any sort of true discomfort. “New skin takes some getting used to and breaking in, imagine that.”

“May I see it?” Aymeric asked after a moment’s pause, his voice careful in its near-whisper like intensity.

For a second, she hesitated. Unraveling them didn’t hurt much anymore, so when she did reveal the newly healed burns that rested beneath she didn’t hold back in extending her arm in front of him. If only her heart that thumped heavily in her chest agreed! Nerves, however troublesome they proved to be, would do little in assuaging his concern.

“There you are,” Ahlis said with an exuberance she hoped sounded sure and confident. “It’s not so terrible now, aye?”

It was not her intent to fool him, rather, it was better than the ire she felt deep within at how it happened, and better still than to appear caught off-guard or foolish to have been struck at all by such an injury. It had been a mistake, one that could’ve gone even more horribly wrong in an instant if not for…

“Oh, Ahlis...”

Her thoughts stopped, everything stopped. She was helpless as she watched the shock that touched his eyes turn to despair, to pain that flowed into the tenderness that came with his touch as he cradled her wrist to his cheek. There was a knot of scarred tissue just below where his lips met her skin; the first kiss was given there, then another just above it towards her palm.

Such sensations, intensified against her freshly healed wounds, rendered her voice frozen within her throat. It was almost too much; she released a heavy, shaky breath that gave him pause, and Aymeric turned to look upon her so intensely, so painfully, she dared think she might cry herself.

“It’s fine,” she found herself saying, finally, unsure if it truly was after all.

---

Later, long after they had gone to bed, she would wake to see the stars out in the beyond just outside the window, the silhouette of spires cutting across the dark. A rare, clear night in the city. Gripped by the sight, she stole herself away to find a place to write...

Evenings have proven to be the best, and only time, to write clear-headed these days. As if I do not need sleep.

The itching has finally subsided enough to carry on without thinking about it and now I can finally sit for half a bell to write while at the same time not wishing to scratch my skin off. I’ve had lacerations, all manners of bruising and concussive injuries. I’ve even been shot at! But note to self: never get fucking burned like that again.

I’m going to kill that bastard with his own medicine, and I will enjoy it

[there is a drawing here of a figure in a robe with a sword skewering it all the way through, who is also on fire]

The healing has progressed as it will, and I trust Krile and Alphinaud’s hands more than any other��although granted my sourness over it all could have been a little less scathing, I guess.

But what can I say, a lot of bullshite has been happening these days. I’m getting a mite bit enraged that these Ascian arseholes aren’t leaving me alone, and yet I am not entirely surprised. It’s not over until it is over.

gods when will that be never ah ha ha ha

In the meantime I have made good on my own promises to make my own self comfortable as best I can, heal as best I am able, and spending what time I can in Ishgard. The others are probably wondering when I’ll return to the Stones but until G’raha outlines our approach on implementing proper protocol on the tempering solution I honestly don’t want to hear about anything else. Alisaie should be helping, I am sure, as is Alphinaud too I think. It’ll be fine! And fast too.

I mean I would help more too but I don’t have a crazy as all hells academic background as they do seven hells I’d love me a curriculum found in the Studium within those stupid halls and their even stupider “zero involvement” stance on bloody everything

share your goddamn science you twits

I am far more tired than I thought. But! I am also finally able to think about the impending reconnaissance we’re bound to have soon once Thancred and Urianger return.

if something happens with them I swear to ever loving shite I am going to boot them back to the First with my fist

Without my Stupid! Arms! Annoying me!

OH is that little

[the writing stops here with an ink blot, as if the pen was dropped and left there, the smeared and distinct shape of a cat’s paw crossing part of the page]

#my writing #the journals #this got way longer than I thought but I did it!#big thx to em for helping me edit this bless and thank #I enjoyed this even if it was difficult to write #hey I finally got some g'raha writing in AND some kinda fluffy angsty stuff? yeeee #; final fantasy xiv #patch 5.4 #shadowbringers #reading for maint har har

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mallowstep · 3 years

Text

i hit two hundred followers so here take this series of scenes set in the misty au's version of shattered sky

"The wounded stay with me," Darktail says.

Violetpaw watches as Mistystar bares her teeth, her claws extended. Minnowtail presses her nose against Mistystar's shoulder. "Mistystar," she starts, looking back over the gathered cats, "we can't..."

Feathertail struggles to sit up. "It's alright, Mistystar," she says. "We'll be okay. It's not worth it." Her ear pivots, and she blinks affectionately, despite the tremble in her voice.

"Feathertail," Mistystar says, filled with a pain that makes Violetpaw's heart twist, but she closes her eyes. "Very well. But — we'll come back for all of you. I promise." Her fur bristles, and Minnowtail brushes against her shoulder.

"You should at least let us take our fallen," Minnowtail says.

"That carrion? Forget it, flea-pelt."

Minnowtail growls, bristling, and Mistystar's eyes shine with rage, but she steps past her deputy. "We can't leave them here," Minnowtail says, but she looks at the injured RiverClan cats.

"We don't have a choice," Mistystar snaps. "Fine, Darktail. But we will be back."

"I'm sure you will," Darktail mocks, as RiverClan turns towards the lake. "Feel free to cross my territory on your way to ThunderClan. They're weak and tenderhearted; they're bound to take you in."

Stormheart is the last RiverClan cat to leave. He's only a heartbeat behind the rest, but Violetpaw sees his ears twitch towards Feathertail, dipping his head slightly. He hurries to keep pace with the rest of his Clan, and Violetpaw looks away.

* * *

"I've brought you some more food," Violetpaw says. "And I'm careful. Darktail won't find out. Come on, eat."

Needletail blinks at her, and snatches the vole, but doesn't eat it. She carries it to the RiverClan prisoners, placing it between them. "Violetpaw's here again. She's brought you some food."

"Thank StarClan," Brackenpelt breathes. Violetpaw watches as they devour the vole, with only a few mouthfuls between them.

"We can't hang on like this," Mintfur says. "Darktail is the cruelest cat I've ever known."

Feathertail snorts. "It could be worse."

Brackenpelt spins her head to stare at Feathertail, open-mouthed. "How could—" Feathertail flicks her ear, and Brackenpelt cuts herself off. "Well — still, he shouldn't speak like that. Violetpaw is one of Darktail's cats."

"I'm sure Darktail's cats are in the habit of sneaking us extra prey," Feathertail says. Needletail dips her head approvingly towards her.

"I made a mistake," Violetpaw agrees. "But I'm trying to find a way to help you."

"Don't do anything stupid," Needletail says. "It won't do any of us good if—"

Violetpaw flicks her tail urgently at Zelda and Yarrowleaf's approach, and Needletail sinks down, as Violetpaw slinks back into the open.

* * *

"Violetpaw?" Needletail blinks softly at her. She crouches beside Needletail, her paws thrumming with energy, with hope, from finally having a plan. Having a way out.

"I had to talk to you. I've been to ThunderClan and spoken to Alderheart."

"I told you not to do anything stupid," Needletail whispers, and Violetpaw flicks her tail impatiently.

"We have a plan to get you and the prisoners out! I promise, all of you are going to be fine."

Needletail's eyes close, and Violetpaw hesitates, trying to figure out if she had fallen asleep again. But her eyes open a slit. "All of this that's happening to me...It's not your fault, Violetpaw. All the mistakes we made were mine."

She purrs, weakly, and Violetpaw presses her face against Needletail. "That doesn't matter now. Don't worry about anything. I'm going to get you out of here."

Needletail shakes her head. "Don't take risks for me, Violetpaw. You have to survive, anyway you can." Her eyes close, and Violetpaw listens to her breathing slow.

She didn't care what Needletail said — she would get them out of here.

* * *

Alderheart turns his gaze to the RiverClan prisoners. Feathertail is lying against Mistystar, and the others aren't far from her, all four of them panting and exhausted. Mistystar watches him anxiously.

"They're — these wounds are shallow," he reassures her. "They should all be alright."

"We're fine," Feathertail says. "I got one of them, Mistystar. Was gonna claw their ear off."

Mistystar purrs. "You're safe now," she says. "Mothwing and Willowshine will be here soon, and..."

Alderheart turns away, focusing on the surrounding discussion. His heart aches for Violetpaw and Needletail — Darktail must have killed them. But Squirrelflight is right. Even if he did look for them, what hope did he have?

"We have to get these cats to ThunderClan, to let the medicine cats treat them properly."

"Excuse me?" Mistystar draws herself up, her tail wrapping around Feathertail. "This is RiverClan territory. There's no way we're going to leave it for Darktail to take over again."

Bramblestar starts to justify leaving, and Alderheart sees RiverClan reunite with the prisoners.

"Besides," he concludes, "your cats need more care than you can give them here, and your medicine cats are still in our camp."

"He's right," Feathertail says. "We've got a lot of rebuilding to do." She presses her temple against Mistystar's shoulder. "It's not — our camp yet."

As RiverClan prepares to leave, Alderheart watches a warrior greet Icewing eagerly. Mistystar sits with Feathertail, and Frogheart and Hawkfrost surround her.

"I know it's hard," Squirrelflight says, "but — you should be proud. Your plan helped a lot of cats."

At the cost of Needletail and Violetpaw's lives, Alderheart adds.

* * *

Mistystar's heart stops when she sees the fighting.

Feathertail bristles with rage, but Mistystar can't see from here if she's been hurt. Minnowtail follows her gaze, silently folding her ears. RiverClan warriors burst into their own camp, and although Mistystar loses track of Feathertail, she can see the determination in all of RiverClan.

ThunderClan and ShadowClan are fighting for their sake, for justice, for fear of what will happen if they fail to drive Darktail out. But RiverClan is fighting for home and kin. There is one ending to this battle, and it is the one where they win.

When Darktail calls a retreat, it is a vicious thing that snarls with joy inside Mistystar. She wants to chase after him, but that will come with time. For now, she ducks through ShadowClan warriors picking over the details of their own treason.

Feathertail is lying on the ground, next to the other prisoners. Brackenpelt is the only one with her eyes open, and Mistystar tilts her ears softly. They're all alive, if weak. Brackenpelt nudges Feathertail softly, and she blinks, her eyes focusing in on Mistystar.

"You're here!" she chirps, pushing to her feet.

Mistystar purrs, bunting her temple against Feathertail. "I told you we were coming back for you, minnow."

"What about the rest of us?" Mintfur says, but he purrs. "We knew you wouldn't leave us."

Feathertail presses into Mistystar, and she lies down, running her tongue over Feathertail's pelt. "I'd be a terrible leader if I left you," she says, pressing her nose into Feathertail's neck. She smells sick, but she doesn't feel hot.

Icewing licks Mintfur's shoulder. "They never stood a chance. Cowards and traitors, the lot of them." She blinks softly. "Wish I got more strikes in."

Mistystar hears pawsteps, and she pulls away from Feathertail. Alderheart's whiskers twitch, looking over her cats.

"They're...these wounds are shallow. They should be alright."

Mistystar looks back at them. Their pelts are pulled taut over their ribs, and she doubts any of them could stand without much assistance. She's not sure what standard ThunderClan trains its medicine cats up to, but it's clearly not high enough.

As if she can read Mistystar's thoughts, Feathertail lifts her head slightly. "We're fine." She lowers her head again, and continues, softer, "I got one of them, Mistystar. Was gonna claw their ear off."

Mistystar purrs, part in surprise and part in pride. Feathertail's eyes close, and Mistystar presses her temple against Feathertail's head. "You're safe now. Mothwing and Willowshine will be here soon, and we'll rebuild the dens..."

Feathertail purrs, and Mistystar lets her eyes close. If she is showing favoritism, she trusts RiverClan will understand. Still, she listens to the discussion, and when she hears Squirrelflight say, "We have to get these cats to ThunderClan, to let the medicine cats treat them properly," she sits up as fast as she can without jolting Feathertail.

"Excuse me?" They have fought a battle for RiverClan's home, and Squirrelflight thinks they will simply leave? "This is RiverClan territory. There's no way we're going to leave it for Darktail to take over again."

Bramblestar starts to babble about Darktail's goals and territory, as RiverClan begins to surround the rescued cats. Beetlewhisker lies next to his parents, and Owlnose and Jayclaw have put aside their bickering to reunite with their sister.

When Bramblestar finishes, Feathertail presses her temple against Mistystar's shoulder. It is a familiar gesture, but an old one, and Mistystar is not surprised at the fury that rises in her. "He's right," she says. "We've got a lot of rebuilding to do. It's not — our camp yet."

Mistystar takes a breath. She knows why. Truthfully, she has as much interest as being in camp as she has interest in inviting Darktail back to her territory. It smells of rot, their dens have been destroyed or desecrated, and there is a pile of refuse that is far too familiar for Mistystar's liking.

So she dips her head. ThunderClan, RiverClan, what matters is that they are together.

Like cracking ice, whatever invisible force had held the other warriors back dissipates. All four of the cats will need help getting back, and it's sure to take them the rest of the night, if not much of the morning. Frogheart and Hawkfrost press against Feathertail, and she purrs.

"They didn't hurt you, did they?" Frogheart asks, nuzzling her shoulder.

"I'll have you know I attacked them," she says. Frogheart purrs.

"Mothwing told us to tell you the only reason she's not here is because Mistystar ordered her to stay home," Hawkfrost adds, and Mistystar snorts.

"And a good thing I did. The three of you would crush her."

Feathertail leans her head against Hawkfrost. Her eyes flutter, and Mistystar sees her start to shiver.

"Let's start heading back," she says. She raises her voice slightly, looking to Brackenpelt, Icewing, and Mintfur. "All of you need food and a warm nest. There's no need to delay if we're not staying here."

She nods, and RiverClan stands. Frogheart looks nervously at Feathertail, but she licks his shoulder, rising to her feet and pressing against Mistystar.

"We're leaving together again," she mutters. "Well. I doubt I'll make it the whole way to ThunderClan, but I might as well try."

#yeah the last two take place at the same time #i was rewriting canon scenes but #i couldn't not write the mistystar and feathertail reunite scene #also this like #hasn't been edited or anything #i just wanted to write it and figured #since i hit a Major Milestone #i'd share #given that #it'll take me ages to get here #in published fics #mine #misty au

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crystalirises · 3 years

Text

In Moonlight We Meet (The Walls of Illusion Part 1)

I crawl from the depths of college to give this fic, and I shall disappear into the void once more.

Anyway, hope you guys like this :D.

Ao3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30512157/chapters/75248370

Fundy gazed out into the vast darkness of the land, his hands grasping at the cracked blackstone that comprised his nation’s walls. Starlight twinkled in his eyes as his ears twitched with every noise that came from the forest beyond. He pulled his hat closer to his head, afraid that the wind would sweep him back into the cage that was his home. He took a deep breath, relishing in the night breeze that tickled and caressed his cheek like a mother would to her baby. He took one final glance back, crouched as low as he was, he could only catch traces of figures and shadows moving about within the country. Fundy looked towards home. Warm yellow light seeped out from the camarvan’s windows as a lone silhouette stood by the window - calm and unmoving.

He held onto the edge of the stone, taking a deep breath before beginning his descent. He paused every so often, the stray sound of footsteps or rustling bushes frightened and coaxed him to return to the safety of his room. He braved on, reaching for every edge or hole he could grasp as he made his way down the side of the wall, grateful that his father hadn’t realized his absence. If he was caught outside, Fundy would never hear the end of the lecture. He winced at the thought.

Fundy has broken rules in the past, but this one - this one - is one Wilbur would never forgive.

He stifled his yip of joy as he felt the soft grass, the blades of grass tickling the soles of his feet. Fundy’s tail wagged from side to side as he hesitatingly moved away from the wall, exhilaration coursing through his veins as he realized that he was outside. He was actually outside the walls!

Fundy pulled his black jacket closer to himself, the freezing cold of the night pierced through his skin as he turned to look out into the dark forest. The fox hybrid knew he shouldn’t let his guard down, tales of the monsters that lurked beyond L’Manburg’s walls rushed to the front of his mind. His father would tell him the stories of zombies, skeletons, and creatures that exploded if one were to get near. He didn’t doubt his father’s words, but he had to see the world for himself.

The hilt of his sword pressed against his side as he walked further into the shrubbery, the moonlight filtering through the trees his only source of light. But for a fox hybrid, the night was but a companion, the world brighter in his eyes despite the darkness that shrouded him.

Despite his bravado, he chose to stay away from the noises, not eager to come across a monster.

As he got further away from L’Manburg, a giddiness overtook the apprehension in his heart as his pace began to quicken. Fundy felt a smile stretch across his face as he started to run, feet thumping against soft grass and fallen branches as he ached to chase the feeling of freedom that had so long forsaken him. He could feel the rush of euphoria as the moonlight graced him with its presence, the forest welcoming as he explored every inch that he could. Fundy had no map of the forest, had no bearing of where he was going, but he had - no, he needed - to run. His nose picked up every new scent, his eyes picked up every new sight, and his hands picked up every new texture that he could get his hands on. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but wish to run until the scorching sun came up over the horizon and cursed the land with its pale yellow hue.

As that thought circled through his mind, his pace quickened, anger fueling him now as he knew he couldn’t outrun the inevitable forever. Fundy could feel the hot tears gathering in his eyes, scowling as he wiped them away with the sleeve of his jacket. A part of him dared to not go back, to flee to somewhere far away and leave the suffocating walls of his father’s nation behind.

Still, where would he go? The world was vast and unexplored, where would he run to? With the war that encompassed the entire land of the Essempy, how could he flee without being caught by L’Manbergian soldiers or by the enemy? Fundy shuddered at the thought, his father’s warnings of the enemy coming to the forefront of his mind. Death would be more merciful than them.

Then there was Wilbur, his dad. Fundy felt his ears press against the top of his head, his pace slowing until he was merely jogging. He couldn’t leave his dad alone, couldn’t leave without a proper goodbye. His dad was doing everything he could to keep Fundy safe and he couldn’t leave knowing that he would be leaving his heartbroken father to forever wonder if his son was still alive somewhere in the world. He let out a sigh, running a hand through his windswept hair. He can’t break his dad’s heart. He just can’t. Fundy shook his head, resuming his run through the forest. He wasn’t going to leave his dad. Never. Fundy would never break his dad’s heart.

He paused, the sharp crack of a branch snapping nearby sending him to a panicked frenzy as he jumped to lean back against the rough bark of a tree. The bushes in front of him were rustling, yet he couldn’t see any of the monsters that his father had warned him about. He felt his heart leap in his chest as the noise got closer and closer, his hands scrambling towards his sword, fingers fumbling between his fingers as he desperately tried to grab at the hilt. He could feel sweat trickle down the side of his neck, the cool night air sending goosebumps down his skin as it whispered of his demise. Oh gods, oh gods, he was going to fucking die here. Fundy huffed out a breath. His dad was right. He shouldn’t have left the walls. He shouldn’t have left the walls! He got his sword out, but it was too late. He screamed as a small shadowy mass leapt towards him.

His eyes shuttered close, the blade slipping past his hands as he waited for the shocking pain to hit. A few seconds ticked past, yet death did not come to claim his soul that night. He took a shaky breath, trying to quell his erratically beating heart. With tremors running up and down his fingers, he slowly lowered his hands from his face, gaze flicking down towards… the fox?

Fundy lowered to a kneel, hands reaching down towards the small fox that had bounded out of the bushes. Its dark brown eyes regarded him with a friendliness that made Fundy’s heart warm, its little paws petting against his lap as it tried to climb onto his shoulder. Fundy gently pushed the fox down, terrified of running and accidentally dropping the fox. It tilted its head to the side, sadness - at least that’s what Fundy assumes - dancing in the fox’s eyes as it let out a whimper, turning around in a circle before jumping onto Fundy’s lap. He barely had time to properly react before the fox’s dirt-stained paws were against his chest, its snout reaching up past his face as it snapped its teeth at something above Fundy’s head. Fundy watched in a stupor as the fox jumped back down, his black hat hanging from its mouth. The fox gave him one last look, a crystal clear look of mischief in its eyes, before turning on its heel and running further into the shrubbery.

“Wha一 HEY!” He bounded after the fox, his feet thumping against the forest earth as he darted between low-hanging branches and the night monsters that lurked. “COME BACK HERE!”

He swore the fox just snickered at him. Fundy growled underneath his breath. He could not go home without that hat! It would draw too many questions, and then he’d have to tell his dad where the hat even went. Oh, absolutely not. No, just no. “Come back, please... Come on, man!”

As he ran deeper into the woods, the moonlight began to disappear underneath the leaves, the world plunged into the darkness with only his eyes giving him the ability to see. He chased after the fox, calling for it to come back as fatigue began to seep into his bones. In his haste to get his hat back, he began to bump into all sorts of things. Fundy began to bump into trees, their harsh bark grazing him on the cheeks as he stumbled and tripped over his own two feet. Mobs got closer to him, rotting hands reaching for his flesh as arrows breezed overhead. Fundy gritted his teeth, pushing himself away from the mobs as he continued to follow the fox who was kind enough to wait for him each time he slowed down or lost sight of the fox. It would glance back at him every so often, wag its tail, before running off again. Fundy was beginning to think that this was the gods’ punishment towards him for disobeying his dad’s rule. “I NEED THAT, YOU一”

He let out a small ‘oomph’, diving face first onto… something. Fundy gripped whatever it was in front of him, the texture soft yet fuzzy against the palm of his hand as he tried to blink away the dizziness and surprise that had taken over his mind. He looked at what he had bumped into, eyes adjusting back to the darkness as he tried to wrack his mind about what he was holding. It wasn’t a tree, his mind helpfully supplied. The surface of whatever-it-was was colored in disgusting lime green, the color a stark contrast to the shadows of the forest. His ears flicked up, his body tensing in fear. There was a strange noise in the air like… a kettle hissing… hissing… HISSING!

Fundy screamed, pushing against what he could only assume was a creeper, knocking it to the ground as he hurried to get away. He tried to ignore the little shriek that it made, surprised to find that it sounded nearly human. GODS, why did they make those monsters sound human?! Fundy shook his head, running until he was a safe distance away from the impending explosion site.

Though… he could have sworn he hadn’t heard an explosion at all.

Fundy managed to collapse into an open clearing, his limbs failing him as he laid there on the ground in pure exhaustion, adrenaline gone from his veins. He felt paws scrabble at the top of his head, teeth gripping his jacket collar as the fox dragged him further into the clearing. He groaned, trying to bite the little pest away but it persevered enough to force him back into a sit. He blinked away the sleep from his eyes, knowing that he couldn’t go to sleep in the middle of nowhere. The fox had curled up in his arms, nuzzling itself into his jacket as though to keep itself warm. He reached up a hand, his hat already on his head. Huh… well, at least his hat was back. An exasperated sigh escaped his lips, a smile forming on his face. Then he looked up, and froze.

The moonlight glistened against the clear surface of the lake, bathing it an ethereal silver glow. Dark shadows darted from its depths as tiny fishes waltzed with one another in their own little dance, undisturbed by his ungraceful presence. With the fox cradled in his arms, he made his way to the shore, his eyes bright as the golden flecks in his dark brown eyes shimmered underneath the glow of the moon. He felt his breath leave his throat, the sereneness of the clearing - dotted as it was by the prettiest of flowers that bloomed underneath the care of the moon - sending a wave of calm through his tense and tired body. He felt safe. He felt at peace.

“You’re a little shit, but… thank you. For this.” Fundy held up the fox so that he could look into its eyes. The fox yipped, licking the tip of its nose as it began to struggle in his hold. He placed it on the ground, the fox whimpering as it tried to climb back up his arms. “Sorry… I can’t一”

His dad would question where he got a fox so late at night. Fundy moved away from it, even as it began to clung to the edge of his pants, its little claws digging into the cloth. He felt his heart ache, wishing that he could just scoop the little guy up and take it home. He tried to take a deep breath, reminding himself of the reason why he couldn’t just take the fox home with him. There was no place for a pet in war. Fundy crouched down, the fox immediately trying to jump into his arms, but he kept it from doing so. He placed his hand against the fox’s head, rubbing behind its ears as it slowly began to lie down, tail wagging excitedly as Fundy continued to pet it. The fox let out a purr, nuzzling further into his hand. “I’m sorry. I’d really take you with me if I could.”

It was the snap of a twig that made him pause. The fox looked up, its ears raised as it looked out into the treeline behind the lake. Fundy strained his eyes to see against the shadows, but he couldn’t see anything. The fox yipped, moving away from him as it headed towards the noise. Fundy took it as his cue to leave. He wanted to stay and bask in the beauty of the clearing, but now all he could feel was fear and trepidation, as if a being was staring at him from the trees. He felt a shiver run down his spine. He was being observed. He could tell. With one last look at the lake and the fox, Fundy turned and began to run back towards where he felt home was. He heard the fox squeak after him, could hear its paws thump against the grass it tried to catch up to him, but Fundy wasn’t as kind to wait for it as it had been for him. He ran until the fox’s cries were but a distant noise, he ran and ran until the familiar look of blackstone appeared within his view.

Within seconds, he was climbing up the wall, reaching for the spots he had used to climb down. There was a hollow feeling in his chest as he reached the top, almost as if he had left a piece of him within the forest that night. Fundy looked into the forest once more, before heading back in.

“Did you believe I wouldn’t notice your absence?” Fundy froze, nearly slipping and falling off the wall as he quickly turned around, jumping down to the ground as a silhouette appeared from behind the tree that stood nearby the entrance to L’Manburg. “Fundy, what was my one rule?”

He gripped the bottom edge of his shirt, scratching as bits of string hung loosely from the cloth. He turned around to face Wilbur. The man looked utterly exhausted, dark circles beneath his eyes as a cool breeze ruffled his uncombed, curly brown hair. Wilbur stood at attention, one hand gripping the hilt of his sword as Fundy felt his father grasp his arm. Fundy couldn’t bring himself to speak as Wilbur dragged him deeper into the confines of L’Manburg, soft chuckling from somewhere in the darkness (no doubt Tubbo and Tommy watching Fundy be dragged off into another lecture). Fundy bit the inside of his cheek, the hto dog van coming into view as Wilbur practically shoved him inside. Shadows clung to the furniture, the soft hiss of potions brewing the only source of noise within the small space that Fundy nearly wished that Wilbur would just leave him there to sulk for the night as his punishment. Luck was not on the fox hybrid’s side.

“Have you any idea how terrified I was to find out that you were missing? I was this close to sending out search parties, Fundy. I was this fucking close!” Fundy hung his head, his father’s yelling accompanied by the sickening slam of the door closing. He pressed his lips together as Wilbur grabbed him by the arms, his hold nearly bruising as Wilbur glared into his eyes. Fundy felt a trickle of fear, “I can’t have you doing this again. Do you know how reckless and stupid―”

“I just wanted to take a walk, dad…”

“A walk? A WALK?! What if you got caught? What if you ran into fucking Dream? Have you no self-preservation. FUCK!” Fundy flinched as Wilbur let go of him, only to slam his hands against the table. Wilbur was breathing hard, his chest heaving up and down as if he was calming himself down. “I can’t lose you, Fundy. Dream’s a tyrant, he would do anything to win this war.”

“Why? Are you scared they’re going to use me against you? They probably don’t even know I exist since I’m not even allowed to leave this place! How could they even know you have a son to use as blackmail when you don’t let me wander outside the walls?!” Fundy hadn’t meant to raise his voice, stuttering into a fearful pause as he realized the seeping anger in his tone. Wilbur glanced up at him, shock dancing in those dark brown eyes. Fundy leaned against the wall, the cool metal sending goosebumps down his skin… or perhaps that was the rising frustration. L’Manburg was Fundy’s entire world, he barely knew anything outside those depressingly large walls that seemed to reach up into the heavens above. Wilbur had made it clear to everyone that Fundy was to never leave. “Dad, I can’t live my whole life here. There’s a whole other world out there just waiting to be explored. I… I just wanted to see it. You can’t keep me inside forever.”

“It’s not forever, Fundy. It’s just until the war is over.” He felt a gentle hand caress his cheek. Fundy didn’t even realize that Wilbur had moved closer, “Then you’ll be free to… wander.”

Fundy chuckled at that. His dad was a terrible liar, he couldn’t even conceal the hesitation in his voice. Fundy focused his attention on his muddy feet instead, remembering how the wind felt against his hair as he raced through the forest, the fox that had taken his hat and made Fundy follow after it until Fundy reached the silver lake. His eyes had been his only guide. Of course, he did run into a few trees while chasing the fox, even running into a creeper that he swore made a fucking kettle sound (was that how creepers hissed?) when he bumped into it. He had eventually come to a stop by the clear lake at the center of the empty clearing, watching the dark shadows zip around the bottom of the water. Fundy had petted the fox, enjoying the serenity and peace of the night. Then he fled, the creeping sense of being watched having sent goosebumps down his skin.

“Give it time. We’ll have our freedom and perhaps I’ll let you leave L’Manburg every now and then.” There was a hand on the top of his head, soothing his ears down as a smile formed on his dad’s face. Fundy couldn’t bring himself to return it. “I promise. Just stay inside for now, hm?”

“You promise?” He moved closer, clutching the front of his dad’s coat. Wilbur placed a hand at Fundy’s back, hesitant as if Wilbur wasn’t quite sure if Fundy was asking for a hug. Fundy gritted his teeth at the idea of even hugging Wilbur at such a time. He let out a sigh, willing his voice not to shake or for tears to spring into his eyes as he glanced up to meet his father’s eyes. He hated how he barely reached his father’s chin despite being older than Tommy or Tubbo. “You talk of freedom and independence as if they were inevitable. Don’t you see how hopeless this is dad? You’re fighting a losing battle. You think you can beat a god? A fucking god? We’re all going to die. I-I’m going to die. I’m going to die without ever having lived, dad―”

The rest of his words were swallowed away as Wilbur pulled him into an embrace, a hand pressing his head against his dad’s chest. Fundy could almost hear the erratic beat of Wilbur’s heart, felt the way that his dad held him clser as though his words had actually frightened Wilbur. Guilt trickled into his heart but Fundy tried not to hold onto it. “Don’t say that. You won’t… you can’t die. I’ll make sure of it. We’ll be fine, my son. You won’t die on the battlefield.”

“You can’t promise me that. You can’t promise me a chance against death.” Fundy wasn’t sure if Wilbur could hear him - not sure if Wilbur would dare to hear him - but he had to try. Wilbur began to hum, a discordant tune that sounded more like droning as if he was trying to block out Fundy’s voice. Fundy curled his hands into fists, nails digging into the skin of his palm. His dad was doing it again, ignoring the negative as if it didn’t exist. “Dad… you have to let me live a little. We don��t know how much time we have left before… Let me feel freedom for once.”

Silence ticked by as Wilbur moved away, a pained look in his eyes as he looked down at Fundy. There was the shimmer of tears but Wilbur didn’t cry. No. Never in front of Fundy. Wilbur wrapped his arms around himself and Fundy realized that Wilbur was reassuring himself more than he was protecting Fundy. This wasn’t about Fundy at all… this was about Wilbur’s fear.

“I love you very much, my little champion. I love you enough to say no to what you’re asking of me. I… I can’t have you running about in the forest at night doing gods know what. Not when Dream is out there… waiting.” Fundy rolled his eyes at that. For all this talk of Dream, he’s never even seen the illusive man at all. Fundy was beginning to think that Wilbur had made the man up, like he did once when Fundy was a kid and Wilbur had jokingly said there was a monster underneath the bed. Wilbur regretted it as Fundy refused to sleep alone for an entire month. “Do you know why I built those walls? The walls you are so adamant to hate? I built them for you. I built them to keep you safe, Fundy. I need to protect my sweet little son. Can’t you see that?”

“Can’t you see? I’m not that kid anymore. You need to stop seeing me as a a helpless baby.” Fundy felt his last inkling of hope disappear. Wilbur would never understand, never will for as long as he thought the world would take his son away. Fundy turned to leave, ignoring his dad’s call for him to come back. He stood at the door, hand hovering above the handle.

“Fundy Soot, you get back here this instant. The conversation isn’t over.” He let out a low growl. It was over, Fundy was ending it. He pushed the door open, the cool, night wind blowing through his hair and into the cramped and heated van. “Don’t you growl at me, young man. FUNDY―”

He looked back, snarling loudly that Wilbur immediately backed off, a surprised look on his face. Good. Fundy didn’t want to stay there any longer. Fuck Wilbur and Fuck L’Manburg too.

“You know what, Wilbur? I never asked you to fucking protect me. You made that choice. Now I’m making mine.”

And with that, Fundy was gone.

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

Hope you guys like this! :D

*soul gets claimed by mid-terms* ;-;

#fundy #wilbur soot #fundywastaken #dream is but a scary lurker in the forest tho /j #mcyt

23 notes · View notes

chokefriends · 3 years

Text

Anatomy model Eustass Kid

By @godims0tired ♡ for my fic Life Drawing

Rating: E

Warnings: None

Characters & ships: Eustass Kid / Trafalgar Law

Word count: 2978

Summary: Law practices his anatomical drawing with Kidd as his subject. With his devil fruit abilities he can see right inside him.

Kidd finds this insanely romantic.

~~~

Read on Ao3 or below the cut. I know it's an older fic by now but I havent posted it here before so here!

~~~

Kidd jerked into full awareness as he lay sprawled in his bed. He checked around himself without moving and sensed a second heartbeat in the room, near enough that the dim echoes of its electrical impulses lapped at his skin like waves. Slow and calm. Just watching then; not yet poised to attack…

There were eyes on him.

It took him a moment to remember that the other heartbeat was supposed to be there. He wasn't used to having bedmates stay overnight.

Red eyes slid open and found keen grey ones fixed on him.

“The fuck you staring at.”

“You, idiot.”

The big redheaded sprawl snorted crassly at that and flopped over, returning the stare with sleepy menace.

Law smirked. He was wedged sideways in one of the heavy carved armchairs in Kidd's quarters, loosely wrapped in a sheet and busily scritch scritching in a large book. His gaze flicked from page to Kidd and back.

Kidd prodded him, “See something you want, Trafalgar? Come over here and take it.”

His limbs were still all loose and languid from when they'd fucked a couple hours before, but Kidd could stand to go another round. Especially with the sharp, evaluating looks Law was throwing him right now.

“Come on, c'mere.”

“Later. Go back to sleep, Eustass-ya.” The pen bobbed.

“Don’ wanna. What are you doing still up?”

“Just passing the time until my brain decides to let me fall asleep.” Law's insomniac woes again.

“A good fuck will do that for you. Lemme do the ligature thing and you'll be out like bam .” Kidd offered generously.

“Heheh. Thanks but oxygen deprivation is not the kind of sleep aid I need.”

“Your loss.”

Kidd burrowed into his cluster of satiny pillows with a sigh. For an infamously brutal pirate captain he sure liked his little extravagances. The whole room was draped with horribly clashing bits of luxurious fabrics and furs, and the odd shiny sharp thing. The manic magpie whims of past raids.

“Nah, that's no good,” Law recrossed long legs over the chair’s arm, well cushioned with some spotted pelt. “Go back to where you were a second ago.”

“Are you…? What, taking notes on me? Writing an ode to the sinful curve of my flawless ass?”

“Something like that. I'm adding my own anatomical diagrams to this medical text. It’s my favourite for reference material but the illustrations are scanty and kinda shit -- it's like they've never dissected anyone before.”

“Nice. Add a diagram of these.” Kidd kicked up a leg.

“Hah. I'm nowhere near the section on genital abnormalities, but I'll look you up when I get there. Turn on your side again, I was doing upper body musculature.”

“Ooo. I got lots of that, yeah.” Kidd complied.

The lamplight was flickering low behind Law. Kidd could see him and his book backlit dimly, the small hairs on his leanly muscled shoulders aglow like a nimbus. Tinged subtly blue.

Wait, blue?

“Do you have a Room up?”

“Yeah, so I can scan down and see the actual anatomical stuff.”

“Huh. That's handy. You don't even have to dissect anyone.”

“Yeah but it’s easier to see everything if you physically open someone up. You can isolate the individual structures that way.” Law peeked overtop of the book. “And it's more fun to do it the old-fashioned way, heh…”

Kidd gave a low laugh. Law wasn't even joking, he knew. He imagined waking up one night like this, to find some part of him delicately splayed open and the dark haired doctor sketching away with the same expression. If Law used his devil fruit power he could do it painlessly and bloodlessly, without even waking him. Kidd had seen him sever heads away from bodies completely within that blue sphere, both pieces still functioning as one. He’d never been the subject of that eerie power himself, though.

He didn’t think so, anyway.

Law untangled himself from chair and sheet, and finally came over to join him on the bed. Kidd was gifted briefly with a full view of the lithe figure. His recent handiwork was beginning to show in the mottling that ran up either thigh and the bites framing his chest tattoos.

The long limbs refolded next to him. “Stay there, I wanna do the neck muscles now.”

“Lemme see that first.”

“Don't be grabby,” Law complained, but gave up the book.

“Holy fuck.” Kidd flipped through studies of his back, shoulders, hands. “So that's how I look without skin, huh.”

He had been expecting more… yeah. Skin.

“I did say I was drawing the muscles.”

“And my bones and everything.”

“Yeah. Good skeletal structure too. Several odd calluses where breaks didn't quite set right, though.”

“You can see all of that?”

“Yeah, of course. Like I said, I can scan down to any level. Though it helps if I know already the shape of what I'm looking for.”

Something about the drawings was just so Law. The lines so precise, so sharp, somehow impatient. A little obsessive and overworked on certain details, like the hollow between his collar bones and the knobbly crook of his index finger, broken at least twice. Many practice studies on loose sheets of paper showed that Law had been trying to get these parts just right.

It occurred to Kidd that these weren't just anatomical studies using him as a model -- these were him.

Jotted notes crowded around the practice studies, but Law grabbed the book back before Kidd could read them properly.

“Trafalgar. Does that seriously say I have 8.2 litres of blood in me.”

“Nevermind that. Just an interesting fact. You have a lot of blood.”

Kidd stole another peek as Law held him off. “And that I have a grip strength of 68 kilograms in my right hand?”

“At least. That’s not something I can see; that's from uh, experience.”

Kidd leaned back with his hands laced behind his head to look at Law. “One might misinterpret this as a target profile of some kind.” Because that's exactly what it was -- a detailed map of Kidd’s strongest, and weakest points.

“Whoa, your blood pressure’s spiking.” Law grinned with more teeth than usual and leaned in to hover over him.

“Now you're just showing off,” Kidd complained.

“Does this disturb you?”

That wasn't exactly the feeling that was spreading through him, no. Or not entirely, anyway. Kidd just cracked his neck, stretching it out for Law's benefit, and raised an eyebrow.

“So you wanted some neck action? It's all yours.”

Law seemed to like the sound of that. He angled Kidd’s head away and up with a gentle press of fingers, so the ear and neck were exposed to him.

Kidd watched his shadow flicker on the opposite wall and listened to the pen scratch across paper. The undulating magnetic field of Law’s heart was so close now, washing over him. His own blood thudded in his ears, senses all on high alert from holding himself in this vulnerable position.

He could be fuckin patient. Sometimes. Well… when he had all of Law’s attention focused on him like this, he’d stay still forever. He could feel the sharp eyes on him like a touch. His own eyes started to wander back over…

He jumped a little when Law did touch him, nudging him back into place. And then trailing fingers over the mound behind his ear.

“Sternocleidomastoid,” Law mouthed to himself. “Levator scapulae…” The hand travelled down to his collarbone and rested there lightly, his thumb tracing little circles.

It was so calm. And strange. Rare for the reserved doctor to be so casually intimate. Even while they were fucking, touch was more like a struggle, hands straining against and into each other. Kidd was rough without even trying, but it was Law who seemed to flinch from any contact not resembling combat. Or medical care. Such structured things. He’d objected -- vehemently -- to being “pawed at” and “pet like a lap dog” often enough. As though anything less than bruising force would hurt more.

He was so guarded. It made Kidd greedy.

“You're hard, you know,” Law breathed onto his neck.

“Yeah I'm aware.”

“Heh.”

Tattooed fingers ran along Kidd’s side, over the tight bands hugging the ribs (“Serratus anterior…”), and pinpricks rose in their wake. Kidd found himself arching up against the hand desperately.

“Ah, fuck, Trafalgar…”

“Mhm,” Law responded, distracted. Or pretending to be. He followed a particular cord of muscle down Kidd’s powerful thigh with his thumb. “Sartorius. Gracilis.”

“Dick.”

“No that's not a muscle, Eustass-ya.”

“Oh for the love of GOD.”

Law made a sound that was probably a muffled laugh. “Hold still. I'm doing anatomical studies.”

“Oh is that what we're doing.”

“Obviously.”

“Where's the book.”

“It's…” Law looked around for a minute. “On the floor.”

Kidd covered his face with his hands and just laughed. Law sighed dramatically.

“Well. Guess I gotta start from the top again.”

---

Law could be a pushy bastard when he topped. But he kept up the slow, focused treatment this time and it was driving Kidd fucking insane.

“I'm gonna flip this the fuck around and pound you inside out if it takes any longer.” Kidd growled from under his arm, slung across his face.

This was as close as he could get to actually asking for it. Here he was laid out, so open and ready, core clenching and unclenching. Needing to be fucked, to have hands on him, in him, whatever. All of it.

“Nah you're not.” Law countered smugly.

“F-uck,” was all Kidd could come up with when a third finger twisted into his slicked up hole. His body tensed and spasmed before yielding itself open.

By the time Law was actually fucking him, Kidd had nearly popped a fucking vein.

Law pushed in slowly, slowly. Until they were pressed together as tight as they could go, breath hot on each other's faces.

“Shit, Tr--ahh…”

“Eustass-ya…”

He was done with all the slow shit. Kidd was a shifting mass of need under him and honestly, he was even more worked up. He dragged almost all the way out only to grind back in hard, and the tight body jolted.

“Aw fuck, yeah…”

Law braced his weight on his arms, pressing Kidd’s hips into the bed. He watched the muscles bunch beneath him with each impact, Kidd straining to meet him. Watched through skin so pale it was translucent, glowing and rippling.

Kidd still wasn't entirely sure what to make of that gaze. All hunger and splitting seams, open lips and ragged breath.

He quirked up one corner of a mocking mouth.

“The fuck’re you-- ah --staring at?”

Law didn't answer for a moment. Under Kidd's skin it was like… layers of red ribbons, wrapping him up. The ribbons all pulling and straining against each other when Kidd moved (when Law moved in him), like something inside was trying to burst out. Under them, ribs curving -- jealous fingers. Wetly clinging membranes. Then under that…

“Your heart. It's…”

Their bodies collided, beaded with sweat. Harder. More. Law could see, hear Kidd's heart beating faster as he picked up his pace. God, he could feel it in his palms. In his dick. Beating so strong it echoed in his ears, drowning out his own.

“Fucking perfect. It's perfect.”

Kidd laughed breathlessly. His heart. What the hell. “...You wanna get your hands on that too?”

Law did.

He wanted to grip it, feel it flutter, make it burst …

… What if I could? he thought. He slowed, thinking, and spread a hand over Kidd’s breastbone. Not just to incapacitate through dismemberment, but to cut a piece from the whole, one vital piece…

Kidd watched the pensive eyes flicker and gave him a swift jab of encouragement with his heel.

“You'll just have to get hold of it the old fashioned way. Hahahaaa…”

“Hah.” Law shook himself from his distracted state. He picked up a pace that was slower than before, though not less jarring. “Like… I should court you or like I should cut you open?”

“Whichever ...ah ... But you should fuckin get me off first.” Kidd guided the tattooed hand down from his chest to his dripping cock, and Law obliged, finally.

They fucked with foreheads pressed together and grips slipping on sweat slick skin. Kidd thought of Law digging his hands right into his chest and came in jerking starts like it was being beaten out of him, legs clamped tight around him. Skin thrumming with the echoes of hands and heartbeat.

---

Kidd flipped through the last few drawings with some undefinable flutter in his gut.

“That's some shit you won't see in any other textbook.”

“Mhm.” Law allowed himself to press against Kidd just slightly as they lay sprawled out, sweat drying in the cool air. He was in a fuckin good mood, kinda dazed.

“I do look damn good without skin, I'll say that much.”

“Heh. And with. You can see the suprasternal notch really clearly even under the skin, it's nice. I fuckin love all of that. That area.”

Kidd choked a little but Law didn't seem to realize what he'd said. And that's not even what he meant anyway, Kidd told himself.

But the whole thing kinda was the same as a confession, at least as far as Law went. The drawings, as vaguely threatening as they were, betrayed an intimate preoccupation with Kidd's finer points. Maybe even admiration. Definitely possessiveness. Need.

“I wanna do you too.”

Law grinned, “Already?”

“Not that, idiot. Draw you.”

“I didn’t know you could draw.”

“Well, draft. I can draft things -- just basic. For engineering stuff on the ship, mostly.”

“Oh, nice!” Law bounced up to get fresh paper from the floor by the chair. “How does one usually draft stuff? Don’t you need a triangle thing? Compasses, etcetera?”

“Maybe. I’ll just make an outline for now.”

Law seemed right into this whole idea. “Draw me like one of your machines, Eustass-ya.” He draped himself dramatically across the bed and Kidd shoved him with a grin.

“How do you want me, though.”

Kidd appreciated that question for a moment.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged. “I don’t know how to draw from life -- like perspective or anything. So it’s gonna be pretty diagrammatic. I just need a few details and some numbers.”

“Like specifications? How to build a Trafalgar?”

“Yeah, so I can make another if this one breaks.”

That made him laugh.

“Okay lie out flat and lemme measure you.”

“With what measuring tools?”

“I'll just eyeball it,” Kidd insisted.

This turned out to mean that he was going to get his hands all over him, which Law supposed was fair. He tensed and shied but stayed mostly still, letting Kidd explore his dimensions and proportions. Pages filled up with ratios and vectors of movement. Things got off track again around when Kidd was testing the rotation arc of his arms and quickly became vicious rutting. Light, skimming hands could become crushing ones so quickly.

Anyway, turned out that Law could get off while his arms were being hyperextended behind his back. Pretty effectively, in fact.

After, when they were laid out next to each other once again, and Law’s breaths were finally lengthening into sleep, Kidd dared to try another light touch. Without their thin pretense of functionality this time -- just want. He smoothed a hand over all the tattoos he'd taken such careful note of earlier. A large heart on his chest with a grinning skull similar to his Jolly Roger. Hearts on his shoulders. Kidd’s fingerprints blooming dark purple on his upper arms.

Sixty-eight kilograms of pressure and Law hadn't made a sound, but a feather touch over the marks and a quiet ah pushed past his lips.

“Whose emblem is that tattoo?”

Law mumbled with his eyes closed, “Someone who died. Long time ago.”

“Someone…” Kidd repeated to himself, but didn't probe. “You going to get any more?”

“Nah.” His breath stuttered slightly when Kidd trailed knuckles down his jaw. “I just like… your marks…”

He fell asleep with Kidd's lips against the shell of his ear.

---

A roll of broadsheet tied with string arrived by carrier gull when Law was back on his sub some days later. He stole away to his cluttered quarters and spread the roll out on the bed.

Inside the broadsheet was a large-format technical drawing.

There were three flat outlines of Law: front, back, side. All heavily marked out in blunt pencil, all surrounded by arcs and lines, dotted and solid, indicating measurements and angles of motion. The insides of the outlines were empty except for perfectly to scale renderings of his tattoos.

#kidlaw #trafalgar law #eustass kid #fanart #thank you so much dude i really mean it!#its exactly how I imagined laws drawing style to be ♡

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adarlingwrites · 3 years

Text

Dormouse

Summary:

After playing a game with two of The Beach's most dangerous members, the dormouse gets her tail caught by a tiger's paw.

He’ll make a wildcat out of her.

TWs/CWs: Mildly dubious consent, hatefucking, gunplay, Niragi being a bastard. Dead dove, do not eat.

Author’s Notes: I was debating on whether or not I should write the sm*t in detail. I'm normally opposed to writing scenes even with the mildest hints of noncon or dubcon in detail, but Yamane's experience with Niragi will serve as a point of comparison later, so I kept it. Hopefully it’s the right decision.

they say I don't get scared so easily / feel free to show me the roaches / and spiders that creep in your mattress

The pill bottle rattles as Yamane pours one in her palm.

It’s been five days since her arrival. Since then, she met other members of the militant faction, and while some of them aren’t as bloodthirsty as Niragi, Yamane still hasn't come to terms with the reality that she’s considered one of them now.

To Yamane’s surprise and secret relief, Saiko has calmed down, and introduced her to the other female militants. It seems that there are only three of them; four, if you count Yamane in.

One girl was called Hanako, who was a little shy, and she usually wears a gray bikini pair that doesn’t quite expose all of her skin. She was the one who took her to the storage room to get changed after getting treated by Sunohara.

“These bikinis suck,” Yamane complains to herself, sorting through the assortment of garments. “None of them fits my style,” Yamane picks up several bikini tops, and a long black wraparound.

Taking one of her daggers out, Yamane trims the straps off of the tops. The Beach confiscated her bag, so she had no access to her usual tools, but they let her keep the sewing kit she keeps in her skirt pocket. Hanako watches as Yamane sewed in the storage room, deft fingers altering the garment despite one of her arms being immobilized.

“What did you do before you came here?” Hanako asks, watching the needle as Yamane sews, obviously bored and using the seemingly mundane task to entertain herself.

“Made clothes,” Yamane replies, eyes flicking to the other girl as she went on with her task. She holds out the newly finished top: a black bikini top with a pentagram design on the chest.

“Cool,” the other girl comments, sitting a little closer to Yamane, who moves on to the long black skirt, tearing through the sides. She sheds her own skirt, cuts out the rings that decorated it, and uses it to secure the sides. She then trims some excess length from the wraparound.

“Hey, um, could you help me get dressed?” Yamane asks, and Hanako obliges.

When they’re done, Yamane looks at herself in the mirror. The twin buns on her head had gotten messy; she can’t really style them properly due to her injury. She wore her usual cropped hoodie on top of her new Beach garments, and Hanako helped her get her shoulder brace back on. She still couldn’t believe Sunohara had one lying around in her clinic. The Beach really does have a lot of resources to spare.

Yamane then slips on some platform beach sandals, and the two militants emerge from the storage room. Another of them is waiting outside.

“What was taking so long?!” this one asks, crossing her arms. She wore a hoodie with red and black stripes on top of her swimwear, her hair dyed brown and pulled back into a ponytail. “Whatever, Niragi’s looking for you. Come with me.”

“What does he want with me?” Yamane asks, but the girl doesn’t reply. Yamane follows her anyway. The men who brought her here had been lingering in her thoughts for quite some time, and she wanted to ask a few questions.

As they pass through a few rooms, Niragi comes into view with Saiko and they pull her into a room.

“You can go now, Akari,” he tells the woman with the striped hoodie.

They didn’t bother closing the door.

“We can finally pick up where we left off, mousy,” Niragi taunts, pushing Yamane down the bed and toying with the hem of her bikini top. He licks the dip between the two mounds on her chest, and Yamane takes a sharp inhale.

She looks at the man before her, and considers the conflicted feelings he draws out of her. He's loud, he's a bastard, and he takes what he wants without asking. He probably touched other girls without their consent too.

Yamane hated him.

On a normal day, Yamane would be disgusted with someone like him, and herself for enjoying this, but Niragi stirred something dark and primal within her, and the past few days had taken a toll on her judgment, so Yamane kissed him herself, desire and revulsion blending at the pit of her stomach.

Niragi’s eyes widen, but he smirks against Yamane’s lips, darting his tongue in her mouth and claiming her. The piercing on his tongue is an interesting feeling, and Yamane didn’t have any complaints. Yamane’s dark lipstick stains Niragi’s lips. In the background, Saiko gives them a knowing laugh.

“My, my, you want this, little mouse?”

Yamane is no longer in proper society; she didn’t have any reasons to pretend that she didn’t want this. It’s been a long time since she got laid anyway, and it certainly isn’t the first time she fucked someone she hated.

The first time was with a sleazy upperclassman in high school. It felt great, watching the chauvinist pig beg and writhe underneath her, but word got around, and his on-and-off girlfriend wasn’t happy.

“You could’ve just asked instead of grabbing me, bastard. It still doesn’t change the fact that I hate you.”

Niragi grins, and grabs her jaw to kiss her again. Yamane made herself pliable, but she swore not to show any sign of enjoyment. That’s one thing that she wouldn’t give Niragi.

Meanwhile, Niragi had moved on to her neck, trying to draw another reaction from her, but she stayed still. He spreads Yamane’s legs apart, running his tongue against her thigh, pauses, and runs it through her belly, up to her breasts. He pulls her bikini top up, and flicks his tongue against her hardening nipples, alternating between the two, the piercing cold against it. All he could get from her was a small shiver.

“So you’ve come to accept human nature. That was faster than expected, Yamane. I had the feeling that we’ll get along the moment I saw you kill that man. Left to our own devices, we humans will kill, pillage, and rape,” Niragi croons in her ear before sucking on that sensitive spot between her neck and ears. Yamane did her best to stifle a moan, and Saiko laughed at her attempt at staying in control.

“The circumstances forced me to kill, and you know it. You know nothing about me, Niragi.”

The militant withdraws from her, sees that there’s no longer any fear in her eyes, and gives her a questioning look. “Maybe the rumors on the tabloids are true, and she’s so used to doing this kind of thing that this doesn’t bother her anymore,” Niragi muses. Then, he leans back in and kisses Yamane’s neck again, his breath kissing the shell of her ear.

“That’s no fun at all.”

He motions Saiko to fetch his rifle, and Niragi points it at the dormouse’s face.

Now, the fear is back. Saiko got behind her and restrained her. Yamane thrashed and trembled as Niragi glided the barrel against her lips.

“Let’s see if there’s any truth to them. Open your mouth.”

Carefully, Yamane does as she’s told, sweat starting to form at her brow. Niragi slides the barrel in.

“Suck. Let’s see how good you are before I try you myself.”

Running her tongue against the barrel, Yamane maintains eye contact, the corners of her eyes wet. The gun is still warm. Enclosing her lips around the tip, Yamane takes a deep inhale, closes her eyes and starts to bob her head. Her lipstick was barely visible on the black metal.

“Here I thought you’ve already learned your lesson,” Niragi hisses, pushing the little dormouse’s skirt aside and shoving a hand in her underwear. His finger circled her clit, spreading her wetness, and Yamane couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled from her throat.

“The circumstances didn’t force you to kill. It just brought the killer out of you. You’ll kill to survive. That's our nature. That’s your nature,” he sneers, squeezing Yamane’s clit with his thumb and index finger, drawing a sharp cry from her. “Besides, didn’t you leave that little girl to hide alone? You probably did that because you know to yourself that she’s going to be a hindrance to your own survival. Did you?”

Yamane sobs at the bitter truth, the tears falling from her eyes.

“I knew it.”

Niragi withdraws his gun from her mouth, stands on the bed, and unzips his pants. He pulls his cock out of its confines, giving it a few strokes. His member was pierced too; a magic cross at the glans, and a column of pearls runs underneath the skin of his shaft.

“Bite me, I’ll blow your head off,” Niragi threatens, and Yamane nodded.

Niragi is right about one thing: Yamane will do anything to survive. That’s what she did all her life, after all. Her brain being constantly on survival mode did horrible things to her psyche.

Gliding the tip against the dormouse’s tongue, Niragi smirks, then uses his cock to slap her cheek. From behind, Saiko giggles, staining Yamane’s neck with her lipstick and her hand slipping through the waistband of Yamane’s skirt to toy with her. With a strong shove, Niragi pushes his cock down Yamane’s throat, and she chokes, struggling to accommodate him.

Soon, she finds a steady rhythm, and she encloses her lips around his shaft, sucking all the way to the tip and ending with a wet pop. The precum leaking from his tip glosses over her lips, and Niragi smiles before taking her mouth again.

“I think the tabloids were right. Isn’t that right, you little slut? You like sucking dick?”

Yamane opens her eyes, giving Niragi a deadly glare. In the corner of her eye, she sees a hooded figure by the doorway.

Last Boss is standing there, mouth pressed to a tight line, but his hood obscures his eyes. The party lights outside shine through the room, and for a brief moment, Yamane sees the intensity of the tattooed man’s gaze.

He is looking at the three of them with an expression that Yamane could only describe as envy.

Niragi sees that Yamane’s eyes are going somewhere else, and he turns to that direction.

“Last Boss! You want to join in? This little mouse is pretty nasty,” Niragi invites him, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Executive meeting in ten minutes,” he said, and without another saying another word, he leaves.

“Dammit, and I wanted to savor this moment too. Well, you’ve heard him. Let’s get these off. I don’t have all night,” Niragi comments, pulling at her skirt. He flips her over, and gives her ass a hard smack.

“Ass in the air,” he commands, and Yamane obliges, more than happy to do what she can to end this encounter already. “Saiko, help me make the little mouse feel good.”

The tip of his cock glides through her wet folds, and he violently enters her.

Growling to suppress a cry, Yamane braced herself on Saiko’s lap. She hisses at the angle at which Niragi was penetrating her, his piercings rubbing against sensitive spots that she couldn’t reach with her own fingers. She couldn’t hold back anymore; it felt too good. Moans started to escape the dormouse’s lips as the militant continued to pound her from behind.

“You feel so damn good,” Niragi hisses, leaning over to nibble at her ear. He wraps a hand around her neck and pulls her closer to him, kissing her. The new position gave Saiko an opportunity to rub Yamane’s clit with her fingers again, then she kissed her, then Niragi, and she settled on suckling at the other woman’s breasts.

The bombardment of stimulation almost drove Yamane over the edge. Trying to imagine something else so she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of making her cum, Yamane tries to think of other things; Kobayashi and Nakamura’s bodies dissolving in a pool of acid; Sato’s broken neck; Last Boss slicing that delinquent boy’s neck.

Last Boss.

Somehow, thinking of him only made Yamane waver. She imagines him taking her instead, those mad eyes boring through her, piercing her. Instead of fear or disgust, she felt titillation.

Yamane came with a broken cry, white spots dancing behind her eyes.

Saiko pulls her towards her chest as she loses her energy to hold herself up, petting her ruined hair. Behind her, Niragi rubs himself off and finishes on her ass with a grunt, his warm cum shooting to her lower back. He leans forward to lick her good shoulder, then her cheek, and Yamane could feel his weight leave the bed.

“Well, that was fun, mousy. See you later.”

He gets dressed, retrieves his rifle, and leaves the room.

On the bed, Saiko continues petting Yamane’s head.

“Does he really try to take every girl that comes through this place, even if it meant raping them?” Yamane finally asks, face still buried on Saiko’s lap.

“Only the ones he wants to break.”

“Did he fuck you too?”

Saiko pauses. “Yes.”

Rolling over, Yamane looks at the taller woman in the eye. “And this just happens all the time in the Beach?”

Saiko huffs and rolls her eyes, retrieving two sticks of cigarettes and a lighter from her sleeveless olive jacket. “It’s just the way it is here. Everyone is free to do what they want, and that includes crimes. If you don’t want to be a victim of one, you have to be a perpetrator yourself. Hatter tries to keep the order, but he’s falling short. I thought you’d accept it by now.”

Yamane wanted to say, “That’s the most bullshit explanation I’ve ever heard,” but exhausted, defeated, she said, “Well, Niragi can’t break what’s already broken. I’ll continue to pretend not to feel anything, or at least try.”

“Good. That’ll get him to lay off of you. Men like Niragi get off on fear. Show that he doesn’t faze you, he’ll move on to a new target.”

With a bitter laugh, the little mouse opens her mouth, and Saiko places the cigarette between her lips, lighting it.

Yamane didn’t even smoke, but she needed that.

It turns out that Saiko is right. Niragi’s escapades went on for two more nights before he finally dropped her and moved on to a new target. But it still left Yamane sore for days.

Furrowing her brows, Yamane shakes the pill bottle and pours herself another painkiller tablet. She swallows the pills, and downs a glass of water. Stepping out of her room, she descended to the lobby. There’s going to be a game tonight, and she needed to replenish her visa.

The teams are being assigned. Yamane receives her assignment, and gulps as she feels someone’s presence behind her.

“Yamaneko. You’ll come with us,” Last Boss tells her, and Yamane nods.

He shuffles away, towards Aguni and Niragi, and Yamane follows him. Feeling awkward for thinking of him while another man took her, Yamane couldn’t look at him. But of course, he didn’t need to know that.

Sitting next to him in the backseat certainly didn’t help.

Niragi drives like a demon, making her stomach churn, while Aguni sits beside him, eyeing her through the rearview mirror.

“Tonight we’ll see what you’re made of,” the chief says. Niragi grins, while Last Boss gives her a meaningful look. “Let’s see if you’re really the wildcat Last Boss thinks you are.”

“Wow, no pressure at all,” Yamane thinks to herself, exhaling slowly, doing her best to calm her frayed nerves. Still, she felt a twisted sense of pride, looking at Last Boss from the corner of her eyes. The man barely speaks, and he’s a total enigma to Yamane; no one knows his real name, but everyone knows how dangerous he is.

“If he thinks I’m like a wildcat, then he might respect me a little more than Niragi who calls me a mouse.”

He’s staring at her again, and this time, Yamane cranes her neck to stare back.

She opens her mouth to say something, but the car comes to a screeching halt. Yamane lurches forward, while the tall man stays steady in his seat.

“Out the car,” Aguni barks, and everyone steps out. Yamane eyes the venue, and even Niragi seems to stop. It was a high school; Yamane’s alma mater to be exact.

“A high school? Man, this place brings back some bad memories,” Niragi moans, brows furrowing.

“This was my high school. Fuck this place,” Yamane mumbles, putting one hand on her hip.

“No time for nostalgia, we have a game to play,” Aguni scolds them while Last Boss follows him close by. “Are you two coming or not?”

Looking at each other, Niragi and Yamane start following their chief again. The four militants pass through the laser grid, and proceed deeper into the school complex, where the directions are leading them to the field at the back of the school. While passing through the halls, Yamane sees a pile of old desks in an unused room. Among them was her old one, vandalized with words such as “Kill yourself” and “Slut”.

Turning away, Yamane focuses her attention to the game.

Each of them grab a phone from the foldable table at the far end of the field, waiting for registration to close. There are explosive collars and weapons on a separate table, with instructions to wear one collar, and take an optional weapon. There are also instructions that prohibit firearms, which made Niragi groan and put his rifle down. Aguni deposits his pistol as well.

Slipping the explosive collar around her neck, Yamane watches as her fellow militants do the same. Niragi picks up a knife, and so does Aguni, while Last Boss sticks to his katana, and Yamane checks her daggers.

This will either be a Spade game, or another Club. Yamane scans the horizon, the green grass of the field overgrown from the lack of maintenance. She looks at the number of people around, and there are more than fifteen of them in the field. The worst case scenario she can think of is a battle-royale type of game where the last one standing wins. She has no chance against Aguni, Niragi, or Last Boss. But the explosive collar didn’t make sense. The lasers could easily shoot them down if they try to leave the arena, so an explosive collar wouldn’t be necessary.

The synthetic voice chirps from their phones as the last person picks up theirs.

“Registration closed. There are currently twenty players. Difficulty: Four of Spades.”

Yamane’s eyebrows furrow as her suspicions are confirmed.

“Game: Kibasen. Rules: Players must form a group of four, with three acting as the horse, and one as a spear. If the spear is taken out, the entire group is disqualified. Clear condition: Players must eliminate the rival team. Time limit: none.”

“Cavalry battle? I’m surprised that this isn’t classified as a Clubs game.” Yamane comments. “But there are no headbands or caps around. Don’t tell me…”

“The headband is likely the spear’s head,” Aguni grunts. “Wildcat. Be the spear.”

Yamane’s heart starts to race. She can’t do this, not with her injured shoulder. She’ll put the entire team at risk. “You heard Aguni,” Niragi barks, looming over her. “Get on top.”

“Wait a minute. Chief, I think Last Boss should be the spear,” Yamane interrupts, making all three look at her.

“Are you chickening out, little mouse?” Niragi asks her, tilting his head.

“Look at me,” she says, holding her good arm out. “My arm span is short. My daggers are too short. Last Boss is our tallest man. His limbs are longer than mine, and his katana has good range. He can strike farther than I could. Putting him on top would result in a longer, deadlier spear.”

A ponderous look on his face, Niragi turns to Aguni. Yamane’s eyes flick towards Last Boss, who was smiling at her.

“Chief, what do you think?” Niragi asks.

“Last Boss, you’re the spear,” Aguni grunts. “I’ll be the one in front. Niragi, Yamane, take the sides.”

Sighing in relief, Yamane takes her position at her right, which shields her injured left shoulder. “You’re lucky, little mouse,” Niragi whispers, bumping shoulders with her as they ducked, and Last Boss climbs over them.

His cold hand presses against Yamane’s head. “Yamaneko, thank you,” Last Boss tells her, lips curling into a smile. On top of her, he reminded her of a tiger once more, predatory, ready to strike.

She still couldn’t figure him out.

Around them, strangers are forming reluctant alliances, warily eyeing other teams. Soon, all five teams are lined up.

“Wait, are we supposed to fight each other? Where is this rival team?”

As if on cue, a rumble starts from a distance, growing louder, and the synthetic voice booms through the outdoor speakers. “Game Start!”

Through the same entrance they used, teams of masked men ran through, their spears carrying naginatas.

“Well, this should be interesting,” Niragi quips, tongue flicking out of his mouth. The other units of players unaffiliated from the Beach start to run and scream, while Aguni commands them to charge forward.

One unit from the enemy team charges at a friendly team, and lops the spear’s head off. His teammates’ explosive collars go off.

Then, they come face to face with the militants’ unit.

Yamane blows away a stray lock of hair from her face. “Shit. Here we go.”

#alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no alice #fanfic: dormouse #oc: minami yamane #last boss #takatora samura #suguru niragi #morizono aguni #fanfiction #character study #suguru niragi x oc

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mister-fleck · 4 years

Text

full of surprises: arthur fleck x reader

Prompt: Could you perhaps write a fic where Arthur has a praise kink?

“So, will you come?”

Shifting uncomfortably on the locker room bench, Arthur’s face scrunched into a hesitant wince. “I don’t know, Randall. Clubs like that aren’t really my scene.”

“C’mon, buddy,” Randall took a seat next to him and placed one of his meaty paws on Arthur’s shoulder, shaking him gently. “Don’t be a wuss. Birthdays don’t happen all that often, pal.”

Tilting his head, Arthur eyed him wearily. He had personally worked twelve birthday parties this week. “They kind of do.”

Randall tightened his grip and Arthur bit back the urge to shy away at the muted pain. He knew that he’d never hear the end of it if he acted like a frail little girl.

“It’ll hurt my feelings if you don’t,” Randall told him plainly, leaning in closer and raising his eyebrows expectantly. His bulky figure blocked out the sunlight from the window behind him and it casted a nasty shadow. “I thought you were my boy, Artie.”

My boy.

A wave of nausea washed over Arthur and he had to look away. There was something about that nickname, about the way Randall towered over him, about how he constantly reeked of gin and motor oil — it always smacked him in the face with unpleasant deja vu.

“I don’t want you to be upset with me,” Arthur eventually found himself mumbling, feeling helpless. He fiddled with the leather tongue of his clown shoe, green eyes focused on his own bitten-down nails and calloused hands. “I’d hate it if you were mad.”

“Then show up.” After firmly clapping Arthur twice on the back — almost hard enough to make him fall off the bench — Randall pushed himself onto his feet with an ugly grunt, slung his bag over his shoulder, and made his way toward the stairs. “Oh, don’t forget to bring some cash. You’ll be useless there without any.”

As Randall stomped off, Arthur tried desperately to figure out what it was about him that made him want to puke and hide. Every interaction with him left him with a headache and there was only so much of it that Arthur could take. He rubbed at his eyes after a few minutes of not blinking and forced himself to get ready for the long walk home.

Saturday night came quickly. With his mother tucked away safely in bed, Arthur paced around his living room, hair mussed and brow knitted. It had been an entire week since the forced invitation and he still wasn’t even remotely prepared.

“Don’t be a wuss,” Arthur scolded himself, echoing Randall’s distaste. He pulled the sleeves of his sweatshirt past his hands, finding comfort in the habit. “It’s just a party. They’re just dancers.”

Still muttering to himself, Arthur made his way over to the china cabinet against the wall and lifted the lid off of one of the delicate teapots. Inside was a meager amount of crumpled bills, his secret savings account that he had set aside for emergencies. It pained him to have to dip into what little he had, but with a grimace Arthur blindly grabbed at a handful and shoved the cash into the front pocket of his pants.

He’d be the butt of a joke if he showed up penniless to a strip club.

The subway ride there was bumpy and crowded and it didn’t help ease the queasiness developing in Arthur’s gut. His brain had kicked into overdrive, imagining every bad scenario and uncomfortable situation. What if he arrived first? What if the strippers didn’t want to go anywhere near him? What if he drank too much, made a fool of himself?

Arthur had never been taught how to properly act around a woman, let alone one scantily clad and asking for money. He knew that he’d have to be a little forward to fit in with the others, but he’d hate himself if he overstepped and made one of the dancers uncomfortable. A little lightheaded, Arthur lifted the fabric of his sweatshirt to his nose and took a sniff, making sure he didn’t reek.

Fifteen minutes later, he stood alone outside of The Centerfold. It was tucked away in the corner, the sidewalk illuminated only by the buzzing neon sign perched crookedly above the entrance. Arthur’s stomach twisted and he puffed out a sigh, scratching at his neck. He felt like a nervous schoolboy, but instead of teachers lurking the halls there were half-naked women.

“Hey there, Arthur,” came a soft voice beside him. Arthur looked around — and then down, to where Gary was smiling up at him kindly. “Didn’t think you’d come.”

“Yeah,” Arthur chuckled, pushing back his hair. He felt a little relieved now that there was a familiar face. “Neither did I.”

Gary shoved one of his hands in his pockets, the other holding onto a white envelope. He looked calm, almost bored. “It’s not too bad in there. Smells a little like piss and sweat, but aside from that — nothing awful.”

Arthur was too focused on the card in Gary’s hand to digest any of what he was saying. It had dawned on him that he hadn’t gotten any kind of present for Randall. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath, leaning in to speak privately through his teeth. “I forgot to get him a gift.”

“I can add your name to the card, if you want,” Gary offered with a shrug. Arthur couldn’t help but smile a little — Gary was genuinely the only person aside from his mother that didn’t resent his existence.

“Are you sure?” He dug his shoe timidly into the gravel beneath his feet. “That would be great —”

But before Gary could open the envelope, Randall was pushing open the doors and grinning broadly at the two of them.

“Took you two clowns long enough. That for me?” He didn’t give Gary the chance to respond as he snatched the card out of his hand. “Better be somethin’ good. C’mon, we got a great table near the stage.”

Arthur felt his stomach drop and he exchanged a wary glance with Gary before letting Randall lead the way.

It didn’t come as a surprise to Arthur that he ended up having to frequently rush to the bathroom to hide his laughing fits. The club was a brand new social experience for him, one that he had never imagined having to tackle, and the last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself. The place was packed with guys that would happily taunt him if given the chance to. After decades of bullying, Arthur could spot them from a mile away.

Of course, the party of men he sat with all assumed that Arthur was escaping to the restroom to whack off, overwhelmed with all of the breasts and ass on display. The women working at The Centerfold were all beautiful, Arthur couldn’t deny it, but he was wound so tight with anxiety that he couldn’t even consider being turned on by any of them.

Upon returning to the table for the fifth time, Randall yanked him back into his chair by the fabric of his hoodie. “Just realized you didn’t get me anything, you son of a bitch,” he jabbed, and Arthur couldn’t tell if he was playing around or actually offended.

“I’m sorry, Randall,” Arthur spoke up quietly, rubbing at his arm. He tried to conjure up an explanation. “I think I left it on the counter at home.”

“Did Mommy help you wrap it?” One of his other coworkers cut in, leaning in with a sloppy grin. With the exception of Arthur, the birthday group hadn’t wasted any time on getting plastered. “Or did you do it by yourself like a big boy?”

Embarrassed, Arthur felt himself shrink in his chair, not knowing what words he could string together to defend himself. He settled instead for laughing a little, hoping to hide his discomfort and feign amusement.

“Don’t sweat it, pal,” Randall scooted his chair forward and slung a heavy arm over Arthur’s shoulder, making him nauseous all over again. “I know exactly what you could do to make up for it.”

Instantly sick, Arthur visibly shuddered and tried to push away that terrible deja vu. When he spoke, it was barely audible over the pulsing club music. “What is it?”

Randall leaned back — arm still very much around Arthur — and put two fingers into his mouth to produce a piercing whistle. A dancer from three tables over turned around on her heel, scanned the room and made her way over.

“You see, Artie, this isn’t just any strip club,” he informed him smugly through a sleazy chuckle. “They have… an array of special services available.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Arthur told him meekly, wishing he hadn’t left his cigarettes at home.

“I took the liberty of asking this young lady here to tell you all about it.” Randall finally retracted his arm, but only to smack the woman on the ass. She didn’t seem phased, but didn’t look particularly happy about it either.

“Hey there, boys,” she drawled in a low, silky voice, slender hands resting on her hips. She was wearing a black brassiere and a matching thong, red high heels giving her a couple of extra inches. Her eyes met Arthur’s and he twitched under her stare. “Is this Artie?”

Randall downed the rest of his whiskey and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, letting out a belch. “Yup. Take him away, hot stuff.”

Arthur stiffened, gripped at his throat in anticipation. This was all too much at once. “What’s going on? What do you mean?”

The woman sauntered around Randall and reached down to tuck a lock of hair behind Arthur’s ear. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll take good care of you.”

—

You were able to spot him right away. He matched the brief description that had been given to you earlier — skinny, unkempt, timid. Kind of a loser. You fought back the urge to yawn. This wouldn’t be the first time you fucked a virgin. He’d be your fourth this month.

This really wasn’t how you had envisioned your twenties playing out. You were supposed to go to a respectable university, study psychology or ethics, maybe find some sort of garden apartment and adopt a couple of dogs — but all of that had gone to shit after getting knocked up at nineteen. You of course loved your son, he was your entire life, but being a single mother at twenty-five in downtown Gotham had unfortunately forced you into a dirty profession that guaranteed decent pay.

But you’d do anything to offer your son a good, clean life. And if that meant blowing strangers Friday and Saturday nights — well, that’s life.

Taking the man’s hand in yours, you gently led him through the bodies and crowded tables. His palm was sweaty as he stumbled behind you, almost tripping a few times over misplaced bar stools. The birthday boy Randall hadn’t been discreet about the purpose of all of this — he was nearly crying with laughter as he informed you that ‘his pal Artie’ would probably have an anxiety attack or cum in his pants thirty seconds into being alone with you.

You didn’t find the former funny at all — the latter was something you had experienced a dozen times, nothing special — and you ran your thumb over the back of the man’s hand as the both of you pushed through thick red drapes.

“How are you doing tonight, Artie?” You asked him smoothly, attempting to loosen him up a bit. He seemed like a good enough guy. “Having a nice time?”

“It’s Arthur, actually,” the man stammered, the lighter pitch of his voice endearing. “And I’m doing okay.”

“Just okay?” You teased, guiding him further into the dark hallway. You nodded at one of the security guards who stood rigidly against the wall. It always gave you great comfort, knowing that there were a handful of bulky men ready to defend you if something were to go sour during a session. All you had to do was call out.

“I’ve never been to a club like this before,” Arthur explained after a long pause, mousy and apologetic as the both of you passed several rooms. A loud groan erupted out of one of them, making him tense up. “I guess I’m a little nervous.”

Stopping in front of one of the empty rooms, you took a moment to briefly look over Arthur. The poor thing looked like a stray dog with its tail between its legs. Giving Arthur a patient, sultry grin, you motioned for him to enter. “That’s perfectly normal, honey.”

Once the pair of you were inside and the door was closed, you watched as Arthur took in the space like a frightened child.

The room was something similar to a motel bedroom: a queen-sized bed, a small couch, a night stand. You had chosen one of the nicer rooms that had a small bathroom connected to it, figuring that Arthur might be more at ease if the space wasn’t too closed-in. Especially with the unnerving way he rubbed at his neck. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was claustrophobic.

Rolling your shoulders back, you approached the nearby table to fiddle with the CD player that had been placed there. No time like the present to kick things off. “Okay, Arthur. Take a seat on the bed and we’ll go over the rules.”

—

Arthur didn’t know how to process any of this. He had just gotten used to the whole table situation, finding that he could calm down and block out the pressure if he hummed a gentle tune under his breath, but now he was alone in a secret room with a stranger and his inner monologue had blurred into static.

He wanted to speak up, tell you that he wasn’t interested in this, that you didn’t have to do... whatever it was that you did. But once you began to rattle off your terms and conditions, Arthur closed his mouth. He didn’t want to be impolite.

“I’ll keep it simple. No choking, no leaving marks, no kissing on the mouth. We provide condoms and you must wear them. If at any moment I feel threatened, or if you break any of these rules, I will not hesitate to call for one of those big guys out there. Your friend prepaid for thirty minutes. If at the end of our session you’d like to buy more time, it’ll be an extra hundred bucks, okay?”

Perched on the edge of the bed, Arthur remained frozen, lips pressed together and fingers bunched up in his sleeves. You had said it all so quickly and he felt like he could pass out from the implications alone. He had heard the word condoms — were the two of you going to make love?

When Arthur finally mustered up the courage to respond, it came out jumbled and uncertain. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend you, but — I, um — “ He ran a hand through his hair, eyes flitting all over the room, not knowing quite where to land. “I don’t think this is a good idea. You — I mean, you’re really beautiful, but I’ve never…”

He watched you walk over to him slowly, lips parting as you reached out to gently unfurl one of his fists.

“Arthur.” He had a hard time getting over the lovely, feminine lilt in your voice. “It’s okay if this is your first time.”

It happened before he could even attempt to stop it.

A jarring, strangled laugh surged out of him, loud and abrupt, and he felt you jump away from him in alarm, rightfully startled. Not wanting to frighten you, Arthur hid his face in his sleeve and closed his eyes tight, each spasming attack making him lurch forward. It almost felt like vomiting, the way his body contracted, but the source of it lived deep in his chest like a demon.

“What’s going on?” He heard you say after a few moments. You sounded guarded now, cautious.

Terrified that you might call one of the hulking security guards into the room, Arthur lifted his head and tried his hardest to speak through the laughter. “I have a — a condition — that makes me — “ Trying his best to muffle another series of hard laughs, he covered his mouth with both hands and ducked his head, buried deep in shame.

He hated the way he sounded during attacks. It wasn’t anything like his actual laugh.

There was a long beat. With his eyes cast downwards, Arthur couldn’t gauge your reaction, but the last thing he had expected after such a heavy pause was a pair of soft arms wrapping around him.

—

You switched modes before you even realized it. You had never seen anything like this before — this ambush of tormented laughter, but the panic attacks your son struggled with made it easy for you to recognize that this wasn’t intentional.

“Let’s take some deep breaths, honey,” you instructed calmly, rubbing careful circles on his back. Your fingertips wandered over the prominent dips of his shoulder blades and you wondered if this man ever even ate. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. We’ll do it together, okay?”

Arthur stiffened initially at the physical contact but it didn’t take long for him to warm up to the attention, nodding shakily through bursts of laughter. It was admittedly hard to watch — all of the choking and gasping, the pain in his eyes. Pursing your lips, you reached out for his hand and placed it flat against your bare abdomen.

“Here we go. Breathe in.” You took in an exaggerated breath, hoping that he would feel the deliberate rise and fall of your stomach to help him focus. “And out.”

It took him a few tries to properly inhale, his lungs hindering the process as they stuttered, but Arthur eventually found a stable rhythm. Not quite hunched over anymore, he kept his hand pressed against your stomach, the other now all balled up between his knees.

Lost in the transformation in front of you and more than pleased with how he had listened — men never listened anymore — you pushed his hair out of his eyes and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Good job, honey. That was very brave.”

With a bashful smile, Arthur shook his head and shyly retracted his hand from your stomach. “No, not really.”

Something had shifted in him. You narrowed your eyes a little, studying him. There had been a definite change in his demeanor upon your gentle approval. Some of the tension had faded. Running your teeth along your bottom lip, you hesitated a moment before testing it out. You had already gotten paid, there was really nothing to lose here.

“Yes, really.” Leaning closer, you brushed your lips against the shell of his ear and scratched at the middle of his back with manicured nails. “You were a very good boy.”

He whimpered a bit and you smiled. There it was. Priding yourself on your intuition, you let your free hand rest against his thigh and dipped your chin to kiss at the underside of his jaw. He smelled like an ashtray but you didn’t mind it. Anything was better than the terrible cologne most of your customers drenched themselves in. “Do you want to know what I think?”

You took a moment to look up at him and watched as he took a deep breath, seemingly steadying himself. His lashes were wet, the poor thing. When Arthur answered you, it was lost in the back of his throat like a secret. “What?”

“I think that this good little boy…” You tiptoed your fingertips up his chest before toying with the zipper of his sweatshirt. “Deserves to be rewarded."

—

Good little boy.

The phrase should have made him angry. If he was like any other man, he would have scoffed and retreated, asked for a refund — but the genuine approval in your voice filled Arthur with a belonging so poignant that it knocked the wind out of him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been called good. If ever.

Hot all over, Arthur watched you begin to unzip his jacket, his neck still tingling from that feather-light kiss. Although a part of him wanted to carefully take your hand and halt your intentions like a gentleman, he knew that this may be his only shot at being intimate with a woman. And if you were willing, if you didn’t feel disgusted, Arthur figured that he had to at least try.

“You have such pretty hands,” he murmured awkwardly, heat rising up his neck. “Do you play piano?”

You giggled next to him — giggled — and Arthur felt pride swell in his chest. “I used to.”

There was a playful tug to his sleeve and Arthur shrugged out of his jacket obediently, leaving him in his brown slacks and white button-up. His shirt hadn’t been pressed in ages and he frowned, reaching up in attempts to smooth away some of the wrinkles, but you playfully batted away his hands and popped open the top button.

“Why did you stop?” He heard himself ask, not knowing if it was proper etiquette to make small talk.

“Life got in the way, I guess.” Three more buttons undone.

Arthur watched as you moved closer and couldn’t hold back a groan upon feeling warm lips against his pulse point. Eyes fluttering shut, he felt his cock twitch hard in his pants, completely at your mercy. He had never been touched like this before and he was still fully dressed.

With the front of his shirt now open, Arthur shivered a little, his fingers bunching up the fabric of the comforter beneath him. When you nipped at the corner of his jaw, he gasped. “That — That feels nice.”

This earned him a warm chuckle, but then you were gone, the warmth of your body no longer pressed against his side. Worried that he had done something wrong, Arthur’s eyes flew open—

To see you ever so slowly sinking down to your knees.

—

You had to admit that there was something charming about Arthur. He hadn’t groped at you with greedy, dirty fingers, he hadn’t tried to smack your ass or tug your bra off. He was willing and kind, and more handsome than he allowed himself to be. You had to hold back your laughter — your faintest touch drove him wild and you wondered absently just how long he would be able to last.

Kneeling now, you smirked up at him from beneath long lashes and watched him squirm in anticipation. You weren’t ashamed to admit that you were great at giving head. You had recently developed a bit of an oral fixation, soothed by lollipops and toothpicks. But if the bulge in Arthur’s pants signified anything, there was an alluring alternative being offered to you.

“I can make you feel really nice.” You slid your palms up and down along his thighs, rolling back your shoulders again to accentuate your cleavage. “Would you like that, baby?”

Arthur heaved in a breath and nodded eagerly. “Yes ma’am.”

“So polite,” you tutted, fingers now dancing around the buckle of his belt. Once it was undone, you spread his legs and pressed a lingering kiss to the crotch of his slacks. “Such a sweet boy.”

As you expected, Arthur was a complete mess, trembling and speechless as you pulled down his zipper. You had neglected to press play earlier on the CD player across the room, but you didn’t mind it. The little noises coming out of him were…

Pressing your thighs together, you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand, thrown off by your body’s reaction. You never got aroused at work, but you had to pause after pulling his erection out of his pants, the dull throb between your legs unwarranted and distracting.

You must have been standing still longer than intended because Arthur eventually spoke up, voice tight with worry. “You don’t — You don’t have to, I know that I’m not handsome, I don’t want you to feel pressured —”

With pink cheeks you snapped out of it and kissed the head of his cock, effectively shutting him up. “You’re very handsome,” you assured him, trying your best to keep your confidence through the storm building inside you. You had half a mind to actually stop, not knowing whether it would be wise to continue with a foggy mind, but your mouth had a mind of its own: You flattened your tongue against the base of his length and dragged up, up, up before taking the tip of his cock into your mouth.

Arthur groaned again right away, low and desperate this time, and you found yourself grabbing onto the front of his pants to steady yourself, your other hand holding his cock in place as he trembled next to you.

“That feels so…” Swallowing hard, Arthur reached toward you for a moment before hastily retreating his hand, clearly very shy.

“You can touch me,” you told him in a breath, pressing lazy kisses to the side of his now very hard cock. You closed your eyes, thinking that maybe if you didn’t look at him, you could pretend that this was some other client and not Arthur. Not Arthur and his sweet little whimpers and — his now gentle fingers sweeping your hair behind your ear.

“Is this okay?” Arthur husked quietly, the pad of his thumb tracing along sensitive skin.

You shivered instantly and had to stop yourself from leaning into his palm, instead smiling demurely and nodding. “Very okay.”

With other clients, you had a bit of a routine. Some heavy petting, a little generic dirty talk, followed by a long, drawn-out blow job, hoping that you could take up most of the allotted time on your knees. Nine times out of ten, it would be more than enough for the men who frequented the club. They just wanted to get off, it didn’t matter how.

But with Arthur… you couldn’t stop yourself from taking the whole of him into your mouth, wanting to hear him moan again, wanting to please him.

Obviously not accustomed to this level of pleasure, Arthur yelped a little and sucked in a ragged breath. “I think — I might, I’m sorry I might —”

Knowing that he was looking for permission, you opened your eyes and finally looked up at him again. The sight of Arthur panting, his bare chest flushed, his eyes so dark — you realized that you were now very, very wet. You locked eyes with him and swirled your tongue just so, silently communicating that he could let go.

And he did with a ragged, handsome cry, cumming hard with quivering hips and the slightest tug to your hair.

You knew then and there that you were screwed. You never, ever, ever let any of your clients cum in your mouth.

But Arthur didn’t need to know that.

Swallowing slowly, you didn’t pull back right away. Partially because you didn’t want to, but also because a part of you knew that there was still at least twenty minutes left. You hadn’t been prepared for this. So you remained kneeling, in a daze as you dragged your bottom lip along his now very sensitive cock.

Arthur was out of breath and sounded a little hoarse when he spoke, clearly out of his element and overstimulated. “Thank — Thank you.”

This made you smile despite yourself and you dropped a kiss to his thigh. He was full of surprises. Still trying to pull yourself together, you squeezed affectionately at his knee. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“What about you?”

The question came so soft and you blinked a few times before glancing up at him, not understanding. “Me?”

Arthur’s brows were furrowed as he nodded, regarding you sincerely. “Yeah. I don’t — I don’t want this to be all about me.”

Heat rushed through your body like wildfire and you gaped at him, now completely caught off guard. Was he implying that he wanted to —

“I might not be very good at it, but I’d like to try,” Arthur continued, rubbing at the back of his neck. His eyes then grew wide. “Unless that’s against the rules. Or you don’t want me to. I just figured that I —”

“No, it’s — it’s allowed,” you cut him off, pulse quickening at the idea. You ran a hand through your hair and tried to seem nonchalant, knowing you looked anything but. “You can, if you want to.”

In a clumsy blur Arthur was helping you to your feet and watching as you climbed up onto the bed. You squeezed your thighs together again, realizing now that he’d be able to see just how wet you were. The two of you locked eyes, both a little uncertain, but Arthur surprised you by taking the initiative, shyly reaching over to pull out one of the pillows from underneath the comforter and setting it against the headboard of the bed.

Silently inviting you to lay back.

You blew out a shaky breath and smiled at him, charmed despite suddenly feeling like a teenager on prom night. Not wanting to make him feel unsure of himself, you slid to the middle of the mattress and stretched out onto your back as gracefully as you could manage, your chest heaving now that the tables were turned.

Arthur’s eyes trailed over your body for the first time all night and you found yourself melting beneath his stare. He wasn’t ogling you like the men outside did — he looked like he was appreciating every dip and curve and you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Take my panties off,” you prompted, shame flying out the window. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this turned on and you’d surely combust if he didn’t touch you in some way.

Nodding quickly, Arthur bashfully tucked himself back into his pants and knelt beside you to do as he was told, warm fingers hooking beneath the hem of your thong and dragging the ruined garment down the long expanse of your legs. It got caught momentarily on your heels, making the two of you chuckle a little, but the nervous smile on Arthur’s face faded into pure lust upon gazing at your pussy for the first time.

You had expected him to pause, ask permission again, maybe procrastinate and stall a little — but Arthur was between your legs in a flash, settled on his stomach now, his tongue already lapping eagerly at you.

“Oh m-my god,” you spluttered, both hands flying up to sink into his hair, seeing stars as you tried to register how somebody so inexperienced could instantly figure out how to do that —

Arthur took your reaction incorrectly, however, his head shooting up, green eyes wildly apologetic. “Did I hurt you?”

“No! No, no, no —” You shook your head, your mouth dry now as your hips bucked up. You were planning on saying something reassuring, something coherent, but all that came out was a slutty little whine that made something shift in Arthur.

With a renewed sense of determination, Arthur surged forward once more and went right back into eating your pussy like it was his job, his hands curling around your waist as you all but writhed beneath him.

“Fuck! That’s —” You moaned girlishly, arching your back. His blunt fingernails dug deliciously into your hips as he held you down. You laughed breathlessly, delirious in your pleasure. “Are you sure you haven’t d-done this before?”

Arthur chuckled low against you, a rumbling sensation that sent a shiver rolling up your spine. It was beyond you how the fumbling, timid man from before had the potential to turn into this.

He didn’t let up, learning as he went along, playing close attention to what really made you quiver — and yet somehow, holding back a bit, as if he didn’t want it to end just yet.

Almost on the verge of tears, you lifted your head up from the pillow to catch a glance at what he looked like and noticed that he was absently jutting his hips into the mattress, seemingly turned on all over again.

The words came tumbling out before you could stop them, high-pitched and wanton. “Come up here. Fuck me.”

This was enough to make Arthur pause, lift his chin, lock eyes with you as if making sure he had heard you correctly.

“You did so good, baby,” you told him in a rush, pushing back his hair to really look at him. With your entire body quaking with need, all you could do was whimper out a small, “Please.”

Arthur sprang into action, tugging off his pants — well, stopping a moment to kick off his shoes and then taking off his pants, which made you giggle behind your hand — and climbed back up onto the bed in just his open shirt.

He hesitated above you and you wondered for a moment if he had spotted some sort of flaw, if maybe up close you weren’t as attractive to him as he had thought, but then he nervously murmured, “You said you had condoms?”

Blushing furiously, you broke into a breathless smile and reached over to the bedside table, catching a glimpse of his cock in the process. The sight alone made your pussy throb hard and your hand trembled as it rifled through the top drawer. You felt around, knowing that there was normally at least a dozen condoms kept there. But, nothing.

Cursing under your breath, you sat up a little more and Arthur did the same, the both of you trembling with want and realizing at the same time that the drawer was completely empty.

Rolling back onto the mattress, you caught those green eyes again and worried your bottom lip between your teeth. In any other circumstance, this would have been the end of it, but there had already been so many exceptions tonight, and you were most definitely on birth control —

“Fuck it, just —” You reached out, grabbed ahold of his collar and tugged him forward to break another rule, kissing him hard.

Arthur didn’t respond right away, shocked and well aware of the terms you had set out, but soon kissed you back in earnest, his hands immediately cupping your face with a tenderness that made you sink into the mattress.

Smoothing your hands beneath his shirt, you scratched down along his back and he purred in response, grinding his cock against your inner thigh. Completely out of self-control now, you bit down on his lip and reached down to help guide his length towards your pussy, crying out as it brushed against your clit. He took this as the last bit of permission needed and broke the kiss to look down, and —

“Fuck!”

Arthur didn’t fuck slowly. Once he was inside of you, his pace was rapid right away, hips snapping forward with each unforgiving, bruising thrust.

You buried your face in his neck, bit down at the skin there and sobbed a little, overwhelmed with pleasure. “Arthur, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

This time, Arthur didn’t tiptoe around it. “I’m gonna cum,” he grunted, a throaty kind of whine that made you instantly clench around him.

“You’re — I’m —” You couldn’t fucking speak anymore, because he had tilted his hips up in such a way that made your vision crackle — and then you were cumming, hard, shrieking into his neck.

With your pussy clamped down hard on his cock, Arthur couldn’t have pulled out if he tried. He came inside you with a long, sensual groan that made you wrap your arms around his neck, just wanting to feel him.

The both of you sort of collapsed into each other simultaneously, all heavy breathing and rapid heartbeats and shaky limbs.

“Baby boy,” you eventually breathed out, a sort of sigh of disbelief, your hand returning to his hair.

Clearly exhausted, Arthur pressed a kiss to your temple and you felt his lips turn up into a sleepy smile. “Mm?”

“Your friend can go fuck himself,” you murmured, scratching lazily at his scalp and smiling right back, “Cause you’re coming home with me.”

reader tag: @taintednihilist @galaxycat-1459 @hxneyboy @sebastianshoe @insomniabird@jesstaggartt@lenawiinchester @emissarydecksetter @ghoulsguilty @vampirozi @spaceinvader@aclownthing @zy-nnic @alirabbitt @mapreza1 @the-jokers-wolf @nicimixerxoxo @catch-a-star-wish-from-afar @umetsa @skaravile @live-love-loki @clowneyrat @darknessisafriend @chaosheartjester @shikoshikomanzuri @myfaceisaturnoffsorry @foofee0924 @tearfuljokers

(if you’d like to be added to the reader tag, shoot me a message! sorry if i’m missing anybody, lemme know if i did!)

#arthur fleck x reader #joker x reader #arthur fleck #joker #idk how this turned into 6k+ words but i hope you all enjoy it lmao x #drabble

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darkmindsotome · 4 years

Text

Losing The Lot

Fandom: Love365 Masquerade Kiss

Pairing: Kazuomi Shido x MC

Word count: 4,043

Warning: NSFW Smut

Written by: darkmindsotome

Tagging @voltage-vixen as requested. Prompt #7: Strip poker

Darkmindsotome Masterlist

---

Losing The Lot

My laptop beeped ending the latest transmission from the EAC. I closed the device and slid it under the seat of the car that was currently winding its way through crosstown traffic in the rain to take me back to my apartment after successfully completing my latest mission.

I closed my eyes and rolled my neck, sinking into the cushioning of the backseat. I didn’t typically find all missions exhausting but being a spy was both physically and mentally demanding. I watched the streetlights blur against the rain on the window, happy to finally be able to relax.

My mind wandered wishing for nothing more than to sink into a hot bath and then curl up on the sofa with a big tub of Lady Borden ice cream and binge on Mission Impossible films. My phone vibrated next to me and when I saw the caller my heart jumped.

“Welcome back.” A voice I had missed hearing for the last few days spoke before I had even placed the phone near my ear properly.

“I won’t ask how you found out I was back in the country again.” I smiled. Despite how exasperated my words sounded I was seriously happy to hear the voice of the man I loved.

“Can’t a guy take an interest in his Girlfriend these days? Did you get me a souvenir?” Kazuomi sounded like an excited child. His energy and upbeat attitude brushed away the tension in my body.

“You wanted a souvenir? Kazuomi I was on a mission, not a vacation.” I playfully chastised him knowing full well any kind of reprimand from me would go unanswered as it usually did.

“So you didn’t get me anything at all?” I could practically see his pouting face even over the phone.

My wonderfully mischievous guy who worked harder than he showed to anyone. A man who was at the top of official lists as one of the world’s most wanted bad guys. Who was labelled a playboy the world over and covered in multiple gossip columns constantly never showed this kind of vulnerability to others. He was far from pristine white, his actions were always a little shady but I trusted him. I felt a warmth bloom in my chest as I thought about it.

“I didn’t say that.” I laughed our conversation was coming to an end as my car had stopped at the curb of my apartment and I knew I would lose reception for a few minutes as I entered the building. “I’ll bring it over to your place tomorrow.”

The door to the car opened and instead of seeing the driver, I saw my boyfriend.

“Why not just give it to me now?” He had a look on his face like he had just pulled off the biggest prank of his life and the smile could have made my knees buckle had I not already been sitting.

He was outlined by the lights behind him that were casting a shimmering aura over him. As if he needed to be painted in a sexier manner. This guy was a walking advert for sexual desires and just oozed appeal. A natural charmer I really would not be surprised to discover his friend's claims that celestial beings had fallen under his spell.

“What are you doing here!?”

“Is that any way to greet your man? Although I have to say you look good even when pulling that face.” He winked at me his brown hair was caught at the moment between lightly damp and becoming unstyled by the rain. A few droplets of water fell from the tips of it and ran down his neck finding the open collar of his shirt and vanishing beneath it.

“You!” I gave him a light slap as I got out of the car pretending not to notice that I was jealous of a raindrop. My eyes fell on a familiar vehicle and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “I can’t believe you showed up in the limo.”

“I never go anywhere without it.” He shrugged as if this sort of thing was normal for everyone. If there was one thing he enjoyed it was opulence and dammit if he hadn’t provided a good show of it to the point where very little was able to still shock me. He bent over and grabbed my suitcase from inside the car, tapping the roof after he shut the door sending it on its way. “Come on let’s get inside before we both drown.”

He grabbed my wrist with his free hand pulling me towards my building. The warmth of his grip where his skin touched mine had me willingly follow him in a trance. I really was a hopeless case.

The door unlocked with a click that was lost against the sound of the downpour of water. We both walked in and Kazuomi put the suitcase he had pilfered from the car next to the kitchen counter. I closed the front door behind us only to find myself wrapped up in a pair of strong arms and my damp bare neck claimed in a rush of fiery kisses.

“Mhm, Kazuomi…” I purred as he chased away the chill on my body from the rain with his lips. I loved his kisses, I’d never met someone who kissed like him before.

“No one says my name like you do.” He returned my purr with one. Even as his lips travelled over my skin his hands began pawing and kneading at me through my damp clothes. The cold fabric clung to the flushed flesh under it. “How long are you planning on keeping me waiting?”

“Waiting? On what?” While is still had enough of my senses to talk back I did. This was our little game that fuelled the fire in both of us. An endless game of cat and mouse where neither of us was willing to simply give in.

“My souvenir of course.” He buried his head in the crook of my neck before drawing back to capture my ear lobe lightly between his teeth, giving it a gentle tug. “But if you don’t have one… I guess I could claim you instead.”

Before he could latch on to me and make it impossible for me to move I spun around in his arms and placed a finger on his lips enjoying his reaction as he wondered what I was doing.

“As tempting as that is I do have something for you.” I made sure to rub myself just a little against him as I pushed him back. There was no way I was going to make getting things all his way that easy for him, I never did.

“Oh?”

I moved past him and clipped open the suitcase searching for the gift I’d found for him. A rectangular box slipped out from under some of my clothes and I picked it up suddenly feeling a little nervous about giving the third richest guy in the world something so pathetic.

“I didn’t see anything that really got my attention but I found these and thought you would probably like them.”

“A deck of cards?” Kazuomi didn’t display any of the elitist reactions I imagined. Instead, he looks seriously amused and happy with his souvenir.

“Their special cards, here see?” I keep forgetting this guy can be so incredibly down to earth it naturally makes me smile as I pluck the box from his hands and crack it open to remove one of the cards.

After rubbing the image on the card the figure that was once dressed in fanciful clothes and opulent robes revealed more and more skin. The idea was the longer you played with the cards the more of their secrets the heat from your hands uncovered. I thought that concept alone was so incredibly Kazuomi I just had to get him a deck.

“Impressive.” His eyes light up at the new discovery reminding me of a kid watching a magic show for the first time.

“You like them?”

“My beloved brought me a gift of course I love them.” He held the cards in his hand and dragged me back to him with the other. It was such a smooth and fast movement I could feel my insides jolting at it. He bent down to whisper in my ear. “You really are a naughty girl though. To think you would get me a gift like this. I hope you’re ready for a game.”

His voice was intoxicating, neither of us moved our eyes remaining locked as the heat between us ignited our competitive natures.

The clean apartment had become a mess in a matter of a couple of hours. Items of clothing were dotted around like breadcrumbs trailing a path to us as we sat either end of my white corner sofa playing Texas hold ‘em.

After scrambling around in drawers and cupboards looking for something we could use in place of betting chips we found a bag of candy and split it 50/50.

Several hands later, most of the clothes on the floor were mine. I had played several card games in the past and I was confident enough to say I could put up a good fight. It was, however, just my luck that my charming boyfriend also had a reputation for never losing. This fun, kinky game was rapidly becoming my waterloo.

I was now left with only my shirt and underwear while Kazuomi was only missing his jacket and waistcoat. His brown eyes were paying way more attention to me than his own cards. It was really distracting and I kept fidgeting in place, willing my mind to focus on the cards and not the impossibly attractive man in front of me. How was he even winning when he wasn’t even paying attention anyway?

“You look like you have something to say.” He was still smirking after watching me lose my skirt. I made sure to stay out of his reach as I disrobed but that didn’t stop him from making some suggestively sexy gestures of his own like licking his lips and slicking back his damp hair from his face. I don’t know if it was the time we spent apart or what but he looked so different right now, my heart started to pound so hard I could feel it.

“What makes you think that?” I shrugged trying to hide how hot I was getting while I shuffled the cards.

“You are giving me the most adorable glare. I just love it when your little miss perfect mask slips off.” He had crawled towards me over the sofa on all fours like a prowling lion. It would only have taken a small pounce to have me trapped under him, an idea I can’t say I minded at all but the game was not over yet.

“Just deal the cards.” I shoved the shuffled deck towards him and watched as he calmly rolled back into his original seat accepting them.

“As my Lady commands.”

Competitive spirit reignited we returned to our little game. It is probably about this time that a normal person may consider the fact that this was not going well and forfeit. As a certain hardened gambler playing me so often remarked though part of the fun in a game was never knowing how things were going to turn out until the very end.

I think at this point from the heated stares and the way in which we were responding to each other’s every move there was no question where this was going to end. It only remained to be seen who was going to come out on top?

After checking my hand, I was a little relieved to see some good cards, King and ten of diamonds. The smiling face of the girl dressed in the increasingly dishevelled robes of the King looked back at me. I know I got these cards for Kazuomi as a kind of novelty gift but honestly even I’m a little turned on looking at them.

Kazuomi didn’t exactly have the unreadable poker face I had seen at Masquerade when playing cards there with other people. It was not deadpan but it may as well have been for all the hints it was giving away.

He was smiling serenely. Every now and then he brought his hand out to take a drink from the table, pulling it back, brushing lightly over his own thigh drawing my attention to the growing bulge in his lap. It was subtle enough that he could still claim he had no idea what I was referring to should I bring it up.

I was more than familiar with his little teases at this point and refused to acknowledge it, my eyes returning to the game as the next cards flopped onto the cushion between us after we each threw in some ‘chips’ to bet. I was looking at more diamonds Queen, eight and four.

This should be easy I was holding a great hand so far. I nearly smiled imagining that I might get him to remove some more clothes. To hide it I instead licked my lips and rubbed my thighs together adjusting myself in the seat. When did I get this wet? Embarrassment suddenly hit me and I could feel the heat rising from my core to colour my face.

“Call.” He announced his move and I could hear a little strain in his voice.

Glancing over I could see the same anguish of forced restraint that I was feeling. I nodded not trusting my voice currently to not blow my cover and reached out to turn the fourth card. Three, another diamond. I could feel my body unconsciously relax a little after seeing the new card.

There was only really one card that could beat me now, I end up putting half my chips in the pot and he calls again. I look over at him, his wolfish grin had grown and dammit if he didn’t look like the very definition of lust in a dictionary.

Eight of clubs fell on the river. This changed things a little there could be the chance he may have three of a kind here I decided to play it a little safe and just make a small bet.

“Call.”

Again? Seriously? I ran some very quick calculations that honestly made very little difference to the commitment I had as to how to play my hand.

“King high flush” I flipped over my cards smiling as I called it out. I felt the rush of anticipation coursing through me. There was a very low chance I was going to lose, 2% in fact.

“Nice! Very good hand.” Kazuomi nodded still smiling.

“Thank you.”

“Not quite good enough though. Ace high… flush.” As he flipped his cards over I couldn’t take my eyes off them and the defeat it dealt me.

“Wha-? No way how many times is that you’ve won?” I pouted far from ready to give up on the game between us it was like a new fire had been lit. I had been so close that time.

“I haven’t been counting. I would say I’ve at least won enough to enjoy a good show.” His eyes had turned predatory as he provoked me.

“Well, I suppose I should continue the performance then.” I raised myself to my knees, remaining on the sofa.

Walking my fingers up the front of my shirt and slowly unbuttoned it. My eyes never left him as I let the fabric glide downwards before dropping to the floor. I felt a new rush of excitement that had nothing to do with a card game. His predatory look and that smile on his face had morphed for a fraction of a second revealing how he was also struggling to keep himself in check.

“I would be more than happy to call it here if you don’t want to continue.” I decided to push a few buttons. It isn’t very often I got to see him this close to the edge after all.

“Oh? Are you admitting defeat?” The crack in his mask sealed shut behind a reinforced veneer.

“Never, I’m in this till the end.” My firm denial brought back his smile.

“Then it’s a race to the finish. I’ll warn you now I won’t hold back.” Kazuomi’s voice issued his warning like a devilish promise sending a shiver straight up my spine. His curved lips had me thinking of his kisses and how badly I craved for them to be covering me right now.

“That makes two of us.”

The next game started and it felt like a slow torture. I had Ace of clubs and a King of diamonds, another decent hand. Luck seemed to be at least interested in keeping these matches between us close.

I bet and he calls. Ace and three of clubs falls on the flop with the Ace of diamonds. It looks like I could be in with more than a slim chance here. I tap my hand to signal a check. He bets and I raise then he does something he hasn’t done all night.

“All in” His bet throws me for a loop.

I check my cards again quickly wondering what could actually beat them. Pair of aces or deuces… that made two hands that could trump mine. There was still a higher chance of me being ahead right now.

Looking up at my boyfriend who was still as unreadable as before, I found him enjoying watching me waver on this last game. If he loses after calling 'all in' that was it. I would not only have won the hand but he would have to strip completely. My crushing defeat could become a momentous victory in the blink of an eye. 95% chance.

“Call.”

After making my bet the cards move again, the five of diamonds appears on the turn. Victory was so close I could almost feel it.

“Check”

“Check” Our call was in unison and you could cut the sexual tension with a knife.

Everything was dependant on this last card. The chances of failure were slim and then it hit. Queen of clubs fell on the river. My hands tremble a little as I turn over my hand.

“Ace King, that gives me three of a kind.”

“Jack five,” Kazuomi's words sounded muffled in my ears as I looked at the cards he held. My eyes blew wide at the hand he hit back with. Of all the low blows to be given tonight. “Flush, I win.”

“Jack and Five of clubs? No way!”

“It was just a lucky hand.” He chuckled seeing how animated I was.

“That is more than lucky that’s unbelievable! Why the hell did you play that?” I wasn’t trying to be a sore loser. I just couldn’t believe he kept that hand going through the game until he got lucky on the river.

“I’m a great believer in being in it to win it and this was the last game of the night. I figured if I was going to lose I should make it memorable.” He shrugged the grin on his face turned into a shit-eating smirk. The look was unashamedly seductive it should have been illegal.

“Loose? You didn’t though you totally destroyed me!” I huffed scooping up the cards and candy from the sofa and putting them on the coffee table with an artless thud.

“I’ll happily hear your complaints in bed. Right now I’m claiming my winnings.” He took my petulant act of clearing the sofa as an invitation not waiting for my reply.

In his impatience he threw me back on the sofa, climbing on top of me silencing any protests I might have by kissing me ferociously. Our bodies became a tangle of limbs, stroking and grabbing at each other. This was more our MO. Passionate, wild neither of us willing to let the other win even now. The spy and the ex target, Kazuomi and me.

It was a no-holds-barred battle between equals. I found myself wondering if we would ever reach a point where we weren’t playing these games. If he would become the focus of one of my missions in the future placing us right back at the starting point. So many ideas and concerns, worries for another time. Right now I was more than happy to just focus on the man I loved.

My hands travelled over him pulling his shirt free of his trousers and snaking up under the fabric. His taut muscles flexed under my touch as he moved unperturbed locating my weak spots. He trailed kisses from my ear to my collarbone and tried to go lower only to be yanked back up as my hand gripped tight on his belt preventing him.

“Have I ever told you that I love how unpredictable you are?” He kissed me hard, his tongue twisting against mine in a way that had me breathless as it brushed over the roof of my mouth.

“Have I ever told you that you talk too much?” I somehow managed to backtalk him. His hands traced the edge of my bra, releasing the clip at the same time as I unbuckled his belt. My hand slipped down grasping his hardened length he had been flaunting throughout the game. His hips bucked pushing it into my palm as he groaned. “Mmm god, I missed you.”

“Missed you too.” He kissed me quickly before pulling back long enough to pull his shirt over his head, the buttons were apparently too much effort to bother with. “You have some time off now right?”

“Mhm, until the next mission at least.” I nodded and pumped my hand a little. The lust in his eyes had turned them nearly black, I bit my lip.

“So there’s not a problem in me keeping you up all night then.” His hand plunged into the thin fabric of my panties. The pad of his thumb brushed over the bundle of nerves as he slipped his fingers deeper inside.

“Ah! …. Kazuomi” I cried out my body writhing under his touch. I wanted more, I wanted him.

“Yeah?”

“I L-” My words, the ones I never said outside of the bedroom were cut off with a growl from him.

His teeth sunk into the flesh of my bottom lip leaving it feeling deliciously sore. I felt his hands move to shove the waistbands of his boxers and trousers free of his hips. The removal of the restricting clothing had his arousal standing to attention pressing into my inner thigh. My body clenched around the fingers buried inside me.

“How much more were you planning on making me fall for you? Careful with all that cute stuff it kills me.” Kazuomi removed his fingers, my body naturally chased his desperation taking over wanting to reclaim the friction it had lost.

The sound of fabric tearing should have concerned me but I was past the point of caring about a destroyed set of lingerie. He pushed into me slowly I didn’t think I could have gotten any hotter but as I was forced to stretch around him I felt like I was being filled with liquid magma. Sweat was prickling on my skin and I willed my eyes to remain open. I wanted to see him.

Our heavy breathing, pants, moans and cries rang out. Each of us taking turns to tantalise and tease while our bodies rocked harder and harder together. My vision sparked white as an orgasm claimed me. Kazuomi helped me ride it out against him before joining me in my euphoria and falling flat on top of me. Our bodies were still joined together, muscles twitching and the sweat running freely combining our scents in the air. My heart was hammering in my chest, my pulse throbbing in my head in the aftermath of the wave that had washed over me.

I reached up to run my fingers through my man’s soft brown hair knowing him to be a man of his word and looking forward to the rest of our night as we pushed each other to the brink, jumping together into paradise. I was finally home.

---

#summer of smut #summer of smut writing challenge

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miss-tc-nova · 4 years

Text

A SOLDIER’s Memories - Cloud Strife x Fem!Reader Pt 1

This series was originally called “P!ATD” You know, for Panic! At the Disco. Every time I listen to them, I think of Cloud. But I decided to name it this because the further along I got, the less the songs related to the chapters, even if I still got some inspiration from them. Anyway, first chapter is inspired by “LA Devotee”. Enjoy.

The Infantry Chocobo

“And the Dream Team is reunited once again!” the man announces.

“You’re being loud!” I say, shoving him aside.

He gives me a cheeky grin. “Come on! You know we’re gonna kill it out there! And I don’t mean just the monsters!”

My eyes roll. “I didn’t say you were wrong. I said you were loud.”

“Fair. _____.” The two of us instantly straighten up and salute. Each of our mentors stood, waiting for us. Angeal folds his arms. “Not only are the both of you loud, you’re late.”

“Aw c’mon, Angeal,” Zack complains. “We still have ten minutes before we gotta go.”

This time, my mentor responds, striding closer. “Yes, but a First Class SOLDIER would’ve been prepared to leave twenty minutes ago and have found their infantry accompaniment.” Him leaning over me with that disapproving stare effectively fills me with guilt.

“But we’re not in charge of infantrymen,” I reply.

“You are just as responsible for protecting them as you are normal civilians,” he warns. “They’re part of your team too.”

“Okay. I’ll go find him,” grumbles Zack.

“We already did,” Angeal responds, shoving a timid looking infantryman towards us. “And don’t leave this one behind like the last one.”

“Yes sir,” we drone.

My mentor rests a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “Don’t be afraid to shoot them if they get out of hand.”

“Sephiroth! That’s rude!” I shout. He gives a cat-like grin before following after Angeal. “Those two don’t trust us for nothing,” I huff.

Zack scratches at the back of his head. “Yeah, well it did take us two days to find that last infantry guy.” The guy in front of us tenses. Zack hastily tacks on, “Not that we’ll lose you! No! We learned our lesson! Not eager for that punishment again!”

I shiver. “Just thinking about it makes my legs ache.” I turn my attention back to our new ally and offer a hand. “I’m ______ by the way. And this is Zack.”

The young man pulls the helmet down, revealing a wild mess of blonde hair and the clearest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. His hand takes mine. “Cloud.”

Zack gives him a hardy pat on the back. “Alright! We’ll take good care of you, Cloud.”

When he doesn’t look too reassured, I give him a thumbs-up. “Promise.”

Poor guy gets it rough from the start: motion sickness on the truck. We can’t really do anything to help him other than give encouraging words but he bounces back pretty quickly once we arrive.

The monster infestation isn’t exactly hard to dig up information on; everyone is complaining about ruined crops and terrorized herds. Zack and I reassure the civilians that we’ll take care of the problem, but something seems off about all the details.

“That’s why I’m in SOLDIER,” Zack ends, leading the way through the trees.

The blonde looks to me for my answer. “Meh. I grew up in the Midgar slums and it sucks. Saw the sky for the first time two years ago and that was it; I had to get out.”

“And joining SOLDIER helped you?”

I shrug. “SOLDIER lets met travel the world. It’s not just the sky anymore; it’s everything. Plus, you know, the standard ‘I’ll be a hero’ thing.” He seems thoughtful. “So why did you join Shinra?”

Cloud glances away. “I…wanted to be in SOLDIER.” I catch the disappointment in his voice; getting into SOLDIER is no easy feat and many are turned away.

“Ah, keep your chin up. You’ll get there someday,” Zack encourages. “Like half of everyone in SOLDIER had to take multiple swings at it before being accepted.”

“Did you guys?” It’s my turn to avoid eye contact. Zack doesn’t answer either and I hear the blonde sigh. Then Cloud changes the subject. “Is it me, or does the information we gathered not add up to Kalm Fangs?” he says.

I fold my arms. “Yeah, I thought so too.”

“What? You guys think they were lying?” questions Zack, walking backwards to join the conversation.

“Not lying so much as…misinformed,” Cloud replies. “No one actually said they saw the monsters causing any problems and the damage seems bigger than a standard pack of fangs.”

“He’s right. But we really can’t do anything until we figure out just what’s causing it,” I sigh. “And by the time we do that, we might as well-”

Suddenly, Cloud draws his rifle, aiming in Zack’s direction. The SOLDIER throws his hands up. “Woah! What’s your deal, man?!”

“Shh!” His aim slowly rises until he lowers the rifle; the look of concentration drops to horror. “It’s definitely not a Kalm Fang,” he utters.

“What?”

Cloud raises a hand, pointing out the massive figure looming over us. “THAT IS NOT A KALM FANG!”

The front paws come crashing towards us and I just have time to jerk the infantryman out of harm’s way.

“WHAT THE HELL IS A BEHEMOTH DOING HERE?!” I exclaim, pulling my linked khopesh from their holsters.

“NOT THE TIME FOR THAT!” orders Zack, swinging his sword at a paw.

The behemoth is definitely a pain in the ass we weren’t prepared for. Zack and I keep the monster’s focus off Cloud. Bit by bit, we whittle the beast down, but it’s clearly getting agitated.

My stomach drops when it turns on our gunner. Lashing out a weapon, I entangle the chain around one of the beast’s horns and pull; thank god for SOLDIER strength. “Get back here!”

The behemoth roars, rearing up; SOLDIER strength is not enough to hold down an angry behemoth and I get thrown through the air. I manage to land on my feet only to be caught in a crushing grip. A gaping mouth of massive teeth comes at me. It takes everything I have to keep the jaws from clamping down on me, but my arms are shaking and the teeth are digging into my hands.

There’s a rapid succession of bangs. The monster ceases its attempt to devour me. Without warning, I slip from its grasp. A pair of arms catches me before I can hit the ground, but he stumbles and falls. Holding tightly to me, he scrambles backwards out of range of the collapsing behemoth which nearly crushes us. With that, it heaves a final sigh. Everything is deadly silent as we wait for the beast to attempt mauling us again. But it’s dead with multiple bullet wounds across the face, one straight in the eye.

Zack finally breaks the silence. “Holy shit.”

I look up to my savior, finding his face a lot closer than I expected. From here, I can see the depth of color in his blue eyes that threatens to pull me in.

“A-Are you okay?” he asks softly, bringing the blood rushing to my face.

“Yeah,” I whisper, still unable to break the eye contact. “Thanks.”

“That was some damn fine shooting, Cloud!” Zack’s boisterous cheer tears my attention away from my hero. “And you caught the girl too.”

I don’t know about Cloud, but my face is now burning up and I kind of want to kick Zack’s ass. Pushing away from the infantryman, I quickly feel the stinging in my hands and hiss.

“I can’t believe you stopped it with your bare hands.” The SOLDIER pulls me to my feet.

“Was I supposed to let it eat me?” I grumble.

“Uh, here.” Cloud tears at the fabric around his neck and starts wrapping my hands.

Meanwhile, Zack retorts, “No. You were supposed to not get caught.”

“It was gonna eat Cloud! And if we lose another infantryman, Sephiroth and Angeal will have us doing squats forever and I can’t do that again!”

“Alright, alright! Calm down! You made the right call.”

The blonde releases my hands. “How’s that?”

“Aww. You’re so sweet.” I very much enjoy the blush that plays across his nose, and now he has no scarf to hide behind. “Zack, why aren’t you this nice?”

“What do I have that I could possibly wrap your hands with? Or are you trying to say you’d like to see me without my shirt?”

I deadpan, “I take it back. You’re always gonna be an ass.”

“Hey! I’m full of charm! Just because you don’t appreciate it doesn’t mean other women don’t.”

“Thank god I’m not other women.” Cloud snickers.

It’s dark by the time we make it back to the town and inform the villagers of just what had been stalking them at night. There are plenty of thanks going around though it’s mostly directed towards the SOLDIERs, despite our insistence that the infantryman dealt the killing blow. Cloud seems kind of bummed by the time we get to the inn.

I flop onto the bed. “Thank god we don’t have to leave until tomorrow.”

“No kidding,” Zack agrees from the sofa.

“Hey, you should probably wash your hands and properly wrap them,” suggests Cloud.

“I just laid down!”

“They might get infected if you don’t.”

The concern playing across his face makes my stomach squirm. I can’t pin down exactly what it is, but this boy is so damn adorable. Heaving a dramatic sigh, I get off the bed. “Fine.”

Peeling back the bloody fabric and holey gloves, I wash my hands in the bathroom. I return to the room to find the infantryman going through a first aid kit he must’ve gotten from the inn-keeper. Sitting beside him, I reach for a roll of gauze, but he takes my hand and turns it over. Without his gloves, I can feel the cool touch of his calloused fingers and it catches me off guard. He’s very careful about his work and I’m just speechless.

“It’s not perfect, but it’s definitely better,” he hums.

A smile pulls across my lips. “You may not have gotten into SOLDIER, but you’re still a hero…If only to me.”

The blush bleeds across his cheeks and the bashful boy looks away. “Uh, thanks.”

Reaching up, I ruffle his soft hair. “And you’ll be the best infantry chocobo in the world.”

His face falls to shock and Zack shouts, “That’s it! That’s what he looks like!”

“Oh no…”

#cloud strife x reader #cloud strife #cloud x reader #ffvii #ff7 #ff7 cloud #fem!reader

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whitecatindisguise · 4 years

Text

I’ll Be Right Here

So this idea is once again, my own brain prompt. And, it's a gift for my bff here, @thecinnamonroll-varian. Hope you like it 😊

------

It was late. Varian was lying on his bed, hidden beneath the covers. Ruddiger curled next to him, purring softly in sleep.

The boy petted him absent-mindedly. A quiet ping from his left startled him.

He turned over and reached for his phone, the screen lighting up the makeshift fort he created. His lips formed a small smile, as he saw who the message was from.

Blondie0512: Hey, you awake?

He chuckled as he typed the reply, his fingers dancing on the keyboard.

Alchemist0324: I see you are :p

Blondie0512: Stayed too late. Inspiration hit and I had to make use of it.

Blondie0512: [Picture]

Blondie0512: What do you think?

Varian stared at the screen of his phone. The picture showed yet another painting Rapunzel did. She was really talented, he’d give her that. It was Eugene, standing proud in his Captain uniform.

The man was promoted not so long ago, working really hard to get where he was now. Varian smiled. He could really see the amount of love and adoration that radiated from the painting.

Alchemisti0324: Looks great.

Blondie0512: Thanks :)

Blondie0512: ... so...

Blondie0512: How are you feeling...?

Varian’s breath hitched as he read the question. His grip on the phone hardened. He knew it was coming. She was too observant to let it pass.

Alchemist0324: ...

Alchemist0324: I’m in the mood again...

Blondie0512: ... Is your dad home?

Alchemist0324: No. He has a night shift.

Alchemist0324: Don’t worry, though. It will pass.

Blondie0512: I’m just worried about you, Var...

Alchemist0324: Ruddiger is here.

Blondie0512: If you say so...

Varian stared at the screen. He didn’t know what to say. After a minute he locked the phone and put it away.

Ruddiger shifted next to him and he put his hand on the soft fur. It always seemed to calm him down, when he got in the mood. The raccoon, as if sensing his discomfort, shuffled closer and snuggled under his arm.

The boy didn’t know how long did he lay like that. Unmoving, lost in thoughts. Another ping shook him awake. He reached for the phone and stared at the screen, confused.

Blondie0512: Open the window.

Surprised, he sat up, Ruddiger waking up at the sudden movement.

Blondie0512: Var, it’s cold. Open the window.

Shocked, he jumped down from the bed and ran for the window, pushing it open. There, on the tree just outside his window, sitting on one of the branches, was Rapunzel.

“Finally.” She said as she took a step back and jumped.

Varian let out a startled scream as she fell, but she grabbed for his windowsill and quickly climbed inside, closing the window behind her.

“Brr, it’s freezing out there.” She shivered a little, hugging herself.

“What are you doing here?” The boy managed to choke out. Ruddiger chittered from his bed, as surprised as his owner.

“I just figured you might need some company.” She replied, reaching for the bag dangling from her shoulder. “Plus, I brought cupcakes.”

“It’s the middle of the night!” He argued but she waved her hand in dismissal.

“Neither of us was sleeping anyway.” She smiled so brightly he couldn’t even be mad at her.

“Wait!” He said as he remembered something. “Does anyone know you’re here?”

“My parents were asleep and Eugene is working on some particular tough case and decided to spend the night in the office.” Rapunzel replied, smiling mischievously. He couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“You are crazy.” He shook his head smiling. She smiled in response, putting her arm over his neck.

“That makes two of us.” She shrugged.

“No way. I am not that crazy.” He argued, untangling himself from her arm. He sat down on the floor, Ruddiger quickly moving to lay on his laps.

“Oh?” Rapunzel cocked her head and grinned. “Should I remind you how you thought it was a good idea to hide Ruddiger in your backpack just so you can take him to school?”

“T-That was one time!” He blushed in response. “And how was I to know they would serve apple pies in cafeteria that day?”

The blonde laughed, remembering how they tried to pry the greedy raccoon from the box full of treats. Varian’s dad was so angry, when he was called to school. It took some time to persuade the man to not kick out the animal out of the house.

Varian was silent, eyes downcast and lips in a thin line. He petted Ruddiger, the action comforting. Rapunzel’s smile fell and she shuffled closer.

“Hey... wanna tell me what happened?” She nudged his shoulder.

There was a moment of silence, before he finally shook his head. She frowned, but didn’t push. She still remembered the breakdown he had the last time she was too pushy.

She sighed and straighten her legs, staring at the ceiling of his room.

“Sorry...” He mumbled and she shook her head.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” She smiled a little at him, but he didn’t respond.

“... Dad deadnamed me today...” He said so quietly she barely missed. His shoulders started to tremble slightly. “I... I don’t think he did it on purpose. He just forgot. But...”

“It still hurt.” Rapunzel replied and he nodded, dropping his head.

‘I’m just.... I’m so confused sometimes.” His voice trembled, his eyes shone with gathering tears. “I chose this, but sometime I just...”

“Oh, Varian...” The blonde reached out and pulled him to lean on her shoulder. His breath was coming out in sharp gasps, his eyes prickled with tears, shoulders shaking.

“I don’t know who I am anymore, Rapunzel!” He cried. Ruddiger chittered sadly, his paws touching his cheek gently, eyes sad.

“It’s okay to be lost.” She comforted him, turning so she can hug him properly. The raccoon moved to his shoulders, making it easier for him to lean into the embrace. “That’s why I am here. To help you get through this.”

He cried openly now, large drops drenching the soft material of Rapunzel’s dress. She didn’t mind, though, whispering softly comforting words, her hand drawing small circles on his back.

“You want to know who I think you are?” She asked after a while, when he calmed down enough his crying subsided to small hiccups.

He tensed for a moment, before she felt him slowly nodding his head. She readjusted her arms around him and took a breath, before speaking.

“You are my best friend, my younger sibling. You are a genius child, figuring out the most complicated equations in a matter of minutes. You love chemistry and prefer to refer to it as ‘alchemy’.” He chuckled a little at that but didn’t make any other sounds. She released her embrace and put her hands on his shoulders, making him look at her. “You care about your friends and always try to find the solution that won’t hurt anyone. Sometimes you are impulsive, but you’re working on it. And yes, sometimes you feel lost with everything that’s going on in your life. But you never give up. No matter how bad things are, you always do your best, stand up and keep on living.”

Varian was wide-staring at her, mouth slightly ajar.

“Rapu-” He started but she interrupted him.

“Varian, for me it doesn’t matter what your name is, what gender you have, or who are you interested in.” She said, her eyes staring into his, eyebrows frowned and lips in a thin line. “What matters is what kind of person you are. Do you understand?”

He closed his mouth, mulling over the words.

“You... don’t care about it?” He asked quietly, not sure if he understood.

“Varian, you could be a human raccoon with pink fur and interest in trees and I’d love you the same.” She replied and he laughed.

“That’s scientifically impossible.” He choked out. She grinned in response and shrugged. He looked up and smiled. “But thank you.”

“You are welcome.” She smiled back and hugged him briefly again. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I would die for a cupcake.”

“Yeah, that might be a good idea.” He agreed, accepting the sweet treat.

When Quirin came back in the morning, he found them asleep on the floor, blanket covering the two of them, Varian leaning his head on Rapunzel’s laps, a content smile on his face.

-----

Woah, my first time writing trans Varian. I am not sure I got it right. Constructive criticism is more than welcome :)

Kudos for anyone who figures out what the numbers in Raps and Varian’s nicks mean ;)

#tts #trans varian #comfort #fluff #Rapunzel wants her small brother feel better #oneshot

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