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leon-scott-kennedy · 3 years

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Distrail

Chreon, Rated-T

Read on Ao3

For a price, anyone could check into a seedy motel, even three people covered in blood, guts, and grime, no questions asked, especially with the ashes of Raccoon City still cooling 100 miles away. So the horizon still held a faint glow of destruction when Leon and Claire stumbled, barely conscious, through the front door of the Tadpole motel at 2 PM October 1st, using each other as support and Sherry clinging to Leon’s back like a koala if a koala drooled and snored.

Two other motels along the highway turned the odd couple away, rumours already flying about Raccoon City, zombies, and a nuclear cover-up. But at the right price, triple the going rate, Claire managed to convince the manager to let them bunk down, courtesy of Leon’s stressed credit card.

The fact Leon’s credit card worked, or that he even still had his credit card, was a miracle. His wallet hadn’t exactly been a priority, and honestly, they could sleep in a cockroach-infested basement, and Leon would be happy because they were dead on their feet after hiking on foot what Leon estimated to be a good 30 miles of rough terrain to get to the nearest town. The sun barely peeked over the horizon when the sky behind them exploded.

Raccoon City was gone. The people Leon had sworn to defend were gone. Sherry and Claire were all he managed to protect, and he’d be damned if he failed now.

The motel room wasn’t terrible; two double beds, a small tube TV, and a leaky faucet. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t something out of a horrible nightmare. They’d left that behind them.

“I’m glad we don’t have a blacklight,” Claire joked, but her tone fell flat.

Leon nudged the bed farthest from the door suspiciously with his boot, dragged back the yellow duvet, and inspected the mattress before he lay Sherry down and tucked her in. He even let Claire shower first, insisted, while he watched Sherry sleep, tossing and turning and whimpering from reliving the horrors in her dreams until Claire emerged from the bathroom, hair still damp, and crawled into bed beside Sherry.

By the time Leon scrubbed his skin raw, the water was cold, and Claire had passed out cold with Sherry cuddled up beside her, little hand tangled in the front of Claire’s dirty tank top like a lifeline. Leon passed out face first on the other bed. He couldn’t even muster the energy to get under the covers.

Movement woke Leon. He jolted awake, reaching for his gun on the bedside table, only to find Claire, fully dressed, perched on the end of his bed and tugging one of her boots. She smiled sadly at the gun levelled at her head.

Leon lowered Matilda, gasping for air. His arm fell limply to his side. “Claire?”

“Hey.” Claire pulled on her second boot. “Sorry.”

Leon blinked at the sleep crusting his eyes. “What... what are you doing?”

Claire sighed and set her foot back down solidly on the ground, hands grasping her thighs. “I need to find Chris. I need... I need to know he’s okay.”

“Now?” Leon glanced at the clock. The bright red numbers read 7:46. The setting sun outside glowed faintly behind the curtains.

“If you ever need me...”

“Forget me. What about Sherry?” Leon snapped, somewhat mollified when Claire winced.

“I know you’ll take good care of her.” Claire’s attention briefly snapped to the sleeping 12-year-old that had survived literal hell. “Leon... if I didn’t have to.”

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever,” Leon scoffed, then rolled over. His heart thundered in his chest. He heard Claire briefly wake up Sherry to say goodbye, promising they’d be in touch, that if Sherry ever needed her, all she needed to do was call.

The door creaked open. Leon clenched his eyes shut, willing down the panic swelling in his chest until it ached. This was it. He was all Sherry had left. They were on their own.

“Take care of our girl for me.” Claire’s voice was barely a whisper.

Leon’s hands trembled, buried in the sheets and pillows, he struggled to suck down air, and his hearing fuzzed. Claire was gone.

For hours, Leon faded in and out of consciousness, barely able to keep the crush of dread at bay. Finally, at some point around 3 AM, he gave up all pretense to sleep and kept a vigilant guard. He jumped at a car alarm, tensed at the slam of a door, and clenched Matilda tightly when soft footfalls passed their door. Eventually, Sherry climbed into his bed to watch early morning cartoons with him.

“Is Claire going to be okay?” Sherry asked softly. She hugged Leon’s arm, cuddling into his side like he used to with his grandma.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about her,” Leon said. He slumped to the side, gently resting his head on top of Sherry’s. “She’ll be fine, kiddo.”

When the sun rose, Leon and Sherry trekked down to the front office to extend their stay another night, then hiked into town searching for clothes and sustenance. Being out in public, surrounded by people, set both Leon and Sherry on edge. They jumped at the slightest sound, and Sherry refused to release Leon’s hand for anything less than going to the bathroom, and even then, he had to stand guard outside the stall. Thank god he had pissed before they left the motel because Sherry was clinging to the back of his jacket while he tried seemed ridiculous.

Their shopping trip was quick. They grabbed what they could, Sherry setting a brisk pace through the little thrift store they found, dragging Leon from rack to rack. They scrounged up a few changes of clothes, socks, underwear, which Leon was a little uncertain of, a jacket that fits over his side holster since he had a license to carry, and a backpack that they filled with snacks and a deck of cards from a little corner store. It turns out Leon’s palette was similar to a twelve-year-old.

The tenuous credit limit finally crapped out on Leon when he tried to buy a six-pack at a shady liquor store on the way back to the motel.

“No job. No money. Just great,” Leon sighed.

For the rest of the day, they holed up in their room munching on junk food, watching terrible daytime TV, and playing Go Fish until Leon made the brilliant decision to teach Sherry how to play poker, and she fleeced him for all the Cheetos.

Leon had no plan beyond survive, and he hadn’t even planned for that. His body ached from being tossed by mutated monsters and shot. His wrapped shoulder twinged.

“Shit,” Leon cursed and clutched his wound. They needed help. He needed help. Taking care of a kid without any resources would be impossible; never mind, he’d never taken care of a person in his life. He had no siblings, no parents. His grandma died when he was nine.

Leon smiled at Sherry in reassurance when she questioned him. This little girl couldn’t be another statistic of the system. He could fix that. He would fix that.

Covered in orange Cheeto dust, Sherry crashed around 8 in the evening. The glow of the sun behind the curtain reminded Leon of the mushroom cloud that had enveloped the sky 36 hours ago. Leon’s stomach twisted in knots. Every creak, every thump, every squeaky break, Leon tensed, waiting for something to crash through the door and disrupt the precarious peace.

Leon hunkered down on his bed, the one closest to the door and any potential threat that came for them, and prepared for another sleepless night on edge.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Around one in the morning, his eyes beginning to droop, Leon nearly fell off the bed in his mad scramble for his gun when someone knocked heavily on the door. Checking his clip, Leon cautiously crept to the door, motioning for now very awake Sherry to stay out of sight.

“Who is it,” Leon called.

“Hi. Look, I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Chris Redfield. I’m looking for my sister Claire.”

Leon blinked and glanced back at Sherry, whose head had popped out of the blanket at the sound of Claire’s name. Then, double-checking he had bolted the chain, Leon opened the door a crack to peek out.

A man a little taller than Leon stood under the flickering light outside the door, his hair cut short and a 5 o’clock shadow. Chris Redfield, decorated member of the Racoon City Stars Division. Leon recognized him from the old photo Claire had shown him, but also the records he’d run across during his frantic hunt through the Police Department.

“Chris?” Leon said, astonished it was actually him. He slammed the door, unbolted the chain, and flung the door open again. “What the- Claire’s looking for you. What are you doing here?”

Chris, who eyed the gun uncertainly, brightened at the mention of his sister. “Is she here? The manager at the front recognized her. Said she was here with some guy and a kid.” Chris glanced past Leon into the room to Sherry curled up in the other bed peering out with curious fear from under the blankets.

Leon shook his head, eyes scanning the parking lot. “She’s not here. She left this morning to find you.”

“Fuck.” Chris winced and glanced at Sherry again. “Shit, sorry.”

Sherry giggled into her hands, and Leon rolled his eyes. “I think she’s dealt with worse.” Like the apocalypse.

“But she’s okay. She’s alive?” Chris asked.

“Who? Claire? Yeah. Yeah, she’s fine. Saved my ass more than a few times.” Leon smiled wistfully and then frowned. So Claire had left, and now, here, her brother was trying to track her down. It must be nice to have someone that gave a damn about you.

“Oh, thank god.” Then, finally, all the tension and stiffness in Chris’ posture melted. “I got her message, and...”

Leon scanned the dark parking lot again for any sign of life, then gestured into the motel room. “You should come in.”

“No.” Chris waved off the invitation. “No, I need to find her.” But the fatigue in his voice threatened to topple him, and that would definitely fell Leon if he tried to catch him.

“Dude, you’re dead on your feet,” Leon said. “It’s the middle of the night. Crash for a few hours.”

“Yeah!” Sherry chimed in, bouncing on her bed. “Stay!”

Chris shook his head. “I can’t.”

Leon pursed his lips. “Look, I don’t know you, man. But I do know that if you pass out behind the wheel and wrap yourself around a pole, you’re pretty damn useless to her.”

Chris opened his mouth to argue, and Leon sighed, tilting his head to the side, ready to give up when Chris snapped his mouth closed and cleared his throat. He studied Leon closely, scrutinizing him like he would a suspect, but Chris must have been satisfied with what he found - weakness, terror, immaturity - because he finally said, “just a few hours.” And the anxiety squeezing the life out of Leon eased, just a tiny bit. Enough that he could breathe.

Chris excused himself to run and grab his go-bag, and Leon cursed his stupidity because nothing was stopping Chris from running. That tightness immediately returned, but a few minutes later, another sharp knock sounded at the door.

Leon smiled tiredly and welcomed Chris into the room, relieved to have the company, someone who knew what they were doing; an adult. Leon grew up fast, but he’d never been an adult in his life. Racoon City was supposed to be a fresh start, and now, he was back to square one. Not even. He was in the basement of square one—the root cellar.

Leon finally caught a good look at Sherry with the lights on, still covered in orange dust, her fingers and cheeks stained. “Jesus. Did you eat the Cheetos or roll in them?”

Sherry laughed. “Leon taught me to play poker, and then I won all the cheezies,” she said to Chris, who grinned.

“Nice job.” Chris offered her a high-five, which she eagerly accepted. The hero worship was already forming.

“He gets a little wrinkle right here when he lies,” Sherry said, pointing a small finger between her eyebrows.

“Okay,” Leon said, scooping Sherry off the bed and carrying her off under one arm. “Let’s get you cleaned up and back in bed, munchkin.”

Cheeto dust proved a formidable adversary, but they managed. When they walked back into the room, Chris was standing exactly where they had left him, his bag still slung over his shoulder and his boots laced.

Getting Sherry tucked back into bed became a struggle now that the brand new company hyped her up; no hesitation whatsoever. She liked Chris. She even made Chris put her to bed, Leon faking offence at being disregarded for the new guy, but there was something about seeing a six-foot boulder of a man coax a tiny twelve-year-old back to sleep that made Leon’s chest ache. Especially when Chris told the story of how Claire was convinced that if she left fake teeth under her pillow, she could trick the tooth fairy into giving her more money. It never worked. The tooth fairy left chocolate coins instead. Fake money for a fake tooth.

Leon watched perched on the edge of the other bed, a little envious of Chris’ skill with kids. He double-checked the safety on his handgun, then the clip. Chris eyed Leon as he set his weapon back down on the bedside table, and Leon couldn’t muster the energy to be self-conscious about his paranoia.

Chris may be Claire’s sister and a fellow survivor of Raccoon City, but Leon didn’t actually know him. For all he knew, he was a traitor like Irons or Wesker. Maybe he wasn’t the man Claire believed him to be. What the hell had he been thinking? Inviting a stranger to stay with them?

With Sherry asleep again, Leon and Chris were left to settle in for the remainder of the night. For Chris, that meant shedding his bulky jacket and combat boots.

“It’s Leon, right?” Chris said. He stood awkwardly beside the bed, watching Leon click off the light and climb under the blankets, tucking himself up against the edge of the mattress as close as he possibly could without toppling off. “Claire mentioned you in one of her messages.”

Leon almost facepalmed. He hadn’t introduced himself. He really was doing everything backwards. “Yeah. That’s me. Leon S. Kennedy.” He curled up into a small ball.

“Jesus Christ.” Chris swiped his palm across his mouth. “You’re the new rookie.”

Leon chuckled humourlessly, his hands tightening into fists around the sheets pulled up to his neck. “Was a hell of a first day.”

Chris picked up real quick that Leon didn’t want to talk about it. So instead, he climbed into his side of the bed, the one closest to the door. The mattress dipped under his weight, and Leon tensed. Where else would Chris have slept? The floor? The last person Leon shared a bed with was his ex, who had seemingly saved his life. If she hadn’t broken up with him, if he hadn’t gotten drunk, if he hadn’t slept in hungover as hell, he would have arrived right in the middle of the initial panic, and who knows if he would have survived that. No one else in the department had.

What would it have been like? The screams, the moans, the pleas for help- the sounds still played on repeat in Leon’s head. Lieutenant Marvin Branagh, mouth agape, stumbling towards him with his hands out. Leon had put two bullets between his eyes.

The first indications of a panic attack slammed into Leon. Abruptly, his throat closed. He couldn’t breathe, his vision slid out of focus, and his chest compressed. Like someone reached into his chest and squeezed his heart in a vice. His entire body shook.

Suddenly, a warm voice murmured in his ear, the soothing tone talking him down, calming him. Leon wasn’t alone. He wasn’t trapped in the police station battling endless waves of the undead, the people of Raccoon City he’d taken an oath to serve and protect.

“Leon, kid, you need to breathe,” Chris said. His presence was a solid wall behind Leon. “I’m going to touch you, okay?”

Leon focused on Chris’ voice. His vision began to swim back into focus, his hearing rushed back in a sudden wall of familiar night noises like the drip of the faucet in the bathroom or the lonely car that passed on the highway. He nodded, not fully understanding what Chris was saying. An arm slid around his waist and pulled him back into a firm chest. Leon flailed, seconds from panic again when Chris’ voice rumbled in his ear.

“You’re going to be okay. I got you.”

Leon grasped Chris’ arm, his grip probably tight enough to leave bruises, and he choked on a shuddering sob.

“It’s okay, Leon. You’re going to be okay.”

Gasping for air, Leon rolled over and buried his face in Chris’ chest, and Chris let him. Leon’s sobs were muffled in Chris’ arms, not wanting to disturb Sherry in the next bed. He felt every subtle muscle flex when Chris tightened his grip or shifted them into a more comfortable position. That’s how Leon passed out, wrapped in the reassuring embrace of a complete stranger, one who understood the hell he’d lived through and the fear and uncertainty he felt in his soul.

Morning came quickly. Leon woke up still curled into Chris’ chest with a death grip on the other man’s faded t-shirt. Chris’ nose was buried in Leon’s hair, each soft snore ruffling his hair, but his embrace hadn’t lessened overnight.

The warmth of embarrassment burning, Leon snuck out of bed, anxiously loosening Chris’ hold and dashing for the safety and solitude of the bathroom, horrified at his complete lack of control the night before. No one had held him like that before, at least not since he was a child and his grandma would sit up with him after a nightmare. But, sadly, this was another type of nightmare, a waking one.

When Leon finally mustered the courage to wander back into the room, Chris was up, sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows on his knees.

“You okay?” Chris asked the same time Leon burst out, “I’m sorry!”

Chris sighed. “You didn’t do anything wrong. When I showed up on your doorstep last night, I saw right away that you were barely holding it together.”

Leon’s fists clenched at his side. He couldn’t meet Chris’ gentle gaze.

Chris crossed the room in two enormous strides and considerately grasped Leon by the shoulders. “It was the shock finally hitting you. It happened to me too, but I was alone,” Chris admitted. “Hey. Hey, come on. Look at me.”

Leon bit his lower lip, but he slowly looked up, eyes stinging. “I don’t know what to do.”

Telegraphing his movements, Chris gently pulled Leon into a tight hug. “You’re not alone. We’re going to do this together. I want to take Umbrella down, but first, I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

Leon jerked back so fast Chris stumbled. “I want to help. I want to make those sons of bitches pay.”

Chris smiled. “Good. But first, I have a safe house.”

Together, they set the plans. Leon and Sherry would meet Chris in two days, hopefully with Claire in tow, at Chris’ new safehouse three states over. Sherry and Leon could catch a bus a couple miles down the highway to get them most of the way. The trick would be getting up the mountain to the cabin. But they were in this together. Hope simmered once again.

Armed with a freshly drawn map on motel stationery, Leon watched Chris pack. Umbrella wouldn’t know what hit them.

“Here. Take it.”Chris handed Leon two rumpled twenties, a five, and a few ones he dug out of his wallet. “It’s all the cash I have on me, but it should be enough to get you there. I’ll drop you off-”

“No.” Leon took the cash, but waved off Chris’ offer to give him and Sherry a lift to the bus station. “It’s in the opposite direction. We’ll be fine.”

“Two days,” Chris promised. Sherry had climbed out of bed and now clung to Chris’ arm as if he couldn’t leave as long as she was attached. He ruffled her hair. “With or without Claire, I’ll be there and we’ll go from there.” Chris grabbed Leon by the back of the neck and dragged him into a gruff hug, their foreheads lightly pressed together. “It’s gonna be okay, kid.”

And Leon believed him. That is, until two hours later when an unmarked vehicle pulled up on Leon and Sherry hiking down the side of the road, hand in hand. They never made it to the rendezvous.

#chreon #leon s kennedy #chris redfield #claire redfield #sherry birkin #re2make #re fanfic #leon kennedy #kennfield

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rachaelswrites · 3 years

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💖- Reid!reader with her and Spencer going to the thrift store together to buy sweaters

You were waiting anxiously by the door, waiting for your dad to hurry up. It had been awhile since he had a day off and was home so you two were having a father daughter day.

Neither of you were ones to try something new but your friends had been talking about thrifting and what it was and it peaked your interest. You mentioned it to your dad and he seemed on board.

“Dad are you almost ready?” You asked impatiently.

“Just give me a sec,” he said, stepping out of his room and making sure his jacket was on properly, “Ready,” he said.

You took the train to the nearest thrift store and went inside, heading right towards the sweater section. You walked up and down the aisles, and Spencer did as well until you both had picked out a few.

“I like that one,” Spencer said, pointing to a light blue argyle one you had picked, “It’d be good for school.”

“What did you pick?” You asked, eyeing the small pile your dad had resting in his hands.

“I don’t know if I’m gonna get them,” he said, “I don’t think they fit my vibes,” he said, adding some of your vocab to his own.

“I think they fit your vibes perfectly dad,” you said, pulling a light purple one from his hands, “See,” you held it up against him, “It’s perfect.”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled.

“Please?” You begged, “For me?” You pulled your puppy dog eyes, which always worked and Spencer gave in.

“I’ll do it for you,” he said, throwing it into the cart. He saw the excited look on your face and a thought popped into his head, “Are you only wanting me to get this so you can just steal it from me in a week?”

“I’m offended you’d even ask that dad,” you said, “When have I ever stolen your sweaters?”

“Hmm,” he said, pretending to think, “Last week, the week before, the week before that.”

“I promise I won’t take this one,” you said, “As long as you wear it to work tomorrow and see what everyone else says about it.”

Spencer nodded his head, “I know for a fact Garcia will like it. I think lavender is her favorite color.”

#x daughter!reader #x teen!reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid #rachaels1100followercelebration

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purplesauris · 3 years

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Housesitting For Your Best Friend 101

This is inspired by something that @witcher-and-his-bard and I were talking about late last night that has sprung from my brain with very little coaxing.

Find it on AO3 here!

“You’re sure.” The question is phrased more as a statement, but Jaskier rolls his eyes all the same, grinning. “I can-”

“Geralt, dear, I may be a great many things, like dashingly handsome, a great lover, patron of the arts-” Jaskier stops when Geralt coughs into his fist, blue eyes narrowing until Geralt straightens up and quirks a brow as if to say what? “But if I cannot look after your apartment for a week, then consider my move back home to be raised further by my mother imminent.”

Geralt doesn’t say anything for a long moment, amber eyes staring down the man in front of him. Jaskier to his credit, takes Geralt gently by the arm, and then with more strength than his frame might suggest, shoves Geralt toward the door and his waiting bags. “Go already, you brute, I’ll be fine.”

“Text me if you need me to come home.” He finally stoops to grab his bags, lingering by the door for a moment more before Jaskier pantomimes kicking him out and down the stairs. Once the door clicks shut Jaskier throws the bolt, turning with hands on his hips to survey the living room. He’s been here more times than he can say, but there’s something intimate about Geralt trusting him enough to ask him to watch his place. The old couch that he lugged up three flights of steps is still here, still fraying at the edge of the cushions and garish blue flowers finally fading. Jaskier had insisted they head to the nearest estate sale to find the beast after walking in to see the sad sight of Geralt’s living room with nothing more than a sagging armchair in front of the tv.

First order of business: check the list that he knows Geralt spent hours thinking over before finally writing it down. It takes a few minutes of searching, but he finally finds it stuck to the fridge with a horse head magnet. Weird.

water plants

care for roach

clean up after yourself

Well, this seems easy enough. Jaskier laughs at the third task, knowing what hell he’d get if this place was less than spotless upon Geralt’s return. It’s fifteen minutes later while he’s standing on the balcony staring at the plants and wondering how much each one gets, that he spies the little arrow wrapping around to the back of the paper. There, Geralt has written out exact instructions for all of his plants, with helpful notes on how much water they get, and which ones to bring inside at night.

Roach is much easier; the brown tabby keeps to herself for the most part, and will let Jaskier know with a righteous fury if she needs something. Jaskier spends a good long while playing with her and brushing her fur before she runs off again, having had enough of his company for the time being.

Jaskier is in the kitchen, debating whether he wants to order in or attempt to cook when his phone buzzes. It’s a vibration he would know in his sleep- Geralt had found some way to set a specific vibration, and Jaskier was too lazy to change it back.

G: At the airport. Did you find the list?

Warmth blooms in his chest as he takes in the text. There’s nothing that should make him feel this way, but knowing that Geralt is still worrying is almost cute. Not that he would think of his best friend that way, of course. He shoots Geralt a picture of him posing next to the fridge with the list, tongue stuck out and number three carefully crossed off. Geralt’s reply is nothing more than a frowning face, which took Jaskier months to get him to use, but it makes Jaskier chuckle. This will be a piece of cake.

-*-

Jaskier is four days in and trying to find something to watch. Normally he would just use Netflix like a normal person, but Geralt’s internet has been spotty for the past hour and Jaskier is about ready to die of boredom. His only problem, it seems, is the complete lack of organization. And the insane amount of movies that include horses. Spirit sits right at the front- one of the few animated movies that Geralt will admit to liking, and the others Jaskier has never heard of before. Well, since Geralt doesn’t seem to care, Jaskier sets out with the intent to alphabetize everything, and while he’s got the shelves empty, dusts as well, just to prove to Geralt that he can clean too.

He’s six movies in to reshelving them when he pulls out Flicka, staring at the black horse on the front cover. He’s noticed a pattern so far- most of the movies involving horses have dark coloring, and that gets him thinking about archetypes within horse movies. Not that he’s ever seen any of the ones on Geralt’s shelf. Out of curiosity he pops the case open, staring at the disc within and wondering if he really wants to subject himself to a movie he knows nothing about past the horse and girl on the front cover. He’s going to watch it with Geralt sooner or later, he thinks, so he shrugs, grabbing for the disc. The little tab in the middle releases with a pop, and Jaskier watches in slow motion horror as the disc goes tumbling out.

Jaskier fumbles, trying to catch the disc before it hits the ground, but to his horror the disc bounces off the carpet twice before he hears a distinct snapping noise. No. It fell on the carpet. It’s fine. His heart pounds in his ears as he sets the case down and pads over to where the disc has settled, cracked almost nearly in half. The curses that Jaskier lets out are particularly colorful, and if he weren’t panicking, he would almost be proud of the ones he’d created. Faintly in his panic he hears the door open, and he whips up, eyes wide and breathing ragged as he stares at the door. Geralt isn’t supposed to be back for another three days yet how-

“What is that?” Yennefer’s voice is cool, but he can hear the amusement running beneath it.

“Yennefer! I- it’s nothing.” He takes a discreet step in front of his mistake, hoping she’ll leave it be. She never does, though, violet eyes sweeping the room and settling on the pile of movies on the coffee table waiting to be sorted. He clears his throat, and her eyes flick back to meet his briefly. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.”

“Me?” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat again.

“We were supposed to meet for lunch. It’s almost two.” Jaskier swears again, and Yennefer finally steps fully inside, kicking the door shut and crossing her arms. “It’s a good thing I remembered you were house sitting. That wouldn’t happen to be one of Geralt’s movies laying on the ground, would it?”

“Uh…” Yennefer takes a few steps into the apartment, and Jaskier takes two steps back, the edge of the disc pressing into his heel. He shuffles his feet a little, not wanting to cause more damage and watching helplessly as Yennefer picks up the open case, closing it to read the front. Her eyes flick up to meet his, and for a moment she almost looks as panicked as Jaskier feels. She’s better at hiding it though, and her panic turns into a crooked smile, smug and slightly condescending.

“That’s Geralt’s second favorite movie.”

“I don’t-”

“The one that’s currently on the floor, broken I’m assuming.” Jaskier can feel the blood drain from his face, and he nervously glances down at the broken disc.

“Fuck.” He stoops to pick up the disc now that Yennefer has figured him out, and stares with dismay at the crack running up the length of it. Yennefer holds out the case, and Jaskier gingerly snaps the disc back in place. “I have to get him another, if he finds out I broke it he’ll never let me come over again.”

Yennefer crosses her arms, that same smug smile on her face, letting Jaskier squirm as he thinks about where he’s going to find a movie from fucking 2006. Immediately his first thought is to go on eBay, see if anyone is selling the movie in some kind of good condition. “Well, lets go then.”

“W-wha…” The dark haired woman pins him with a look, and she motions for him to get his shoes on, standing impatiently by the door.

“Let’s go see what we can find.” Jaskier shoves his feet into his boots, grabbing for his keys and wallet and stopping to shrug on a sweater much too big for him when he sees snowflakes fluttering down outside. Yennefer raises a perfect eyebrow at that but doesn’t say anything, just leads Jaskier to her car, giving his shoes a look before letting him into the car.

They search four different stores and three thrift shops, but the only copies of the movie he finds are in almost worse condition than the one currently at Geralt’s house. He’s really panicking by the time Yennefer drops him off with food and a stern command to find something before Geralt gets home. Jaskier puts the movies back haphazardly, not caring about the order they’re in anymore. He parks himself on the floor in front of the couch, food on the coffee table and laptop balanced on his knees. He eats bites in between scrolling, and to his immense relief, there are over two thousand results for the movie. It only takes him a couple more hours of agonizing to find one that looks to be in good enough condition, and promises to get to him within two days. It’ll be tight, but as long as nothing happens, Geralt will be none the wiser.

Jaskier makes his bed up on the couch and makes sure to bring in Geralt’s plants before bed, confident in his plan. Now to wait for it to ship, and Geralt to come back from visiting his adopted father.

-*-

It comes perfectly on time. The case is in better shape than even Geralt’s was before, but by now Jaskier has learned, and swaps the cases before tossing the broken disc. Onto the shelf it goes, no worse for wear, and Jaskier can breathe a sigh of relief. His place in Geralt’s house secure, Jaskier sets out to clean up the apartment some, wanting nothing else to go wrong. Geralt should be home in a few hours, and if he knows his best friend, he’ll be starving. A good hearty welcome back meal is in order, and while Jaskier would never say he’s a fantastic cook, he’s proficient at the least and knows what his friend would like.

Roach joins him while he’s cooking, stubbornly perching herself on his shoulder and watching his every move as he chops vegetables. He’s made this particular dish before, and knows that Geralt likes it more than he’ll say. Jaskier pops the freshly filled pot pie into the oven with 10 minutes before Geralt is supposed to get home- not that he’s counting or anything. Roach has settled herself like a scarf around Jaskiers neck, head tucked under his chin and little cat breaths puffing onto his neck. He’s sweltering in the heat of the kitchen and Roach’s long fur, but he would never squander any love that Roach chooses to show him.

Jaskier is wiping up any excess mess when he hears the door click open softly, followed by the thump of bags hitting the floor. Roach perks up, ears tickling Jaskier’s cheek as she pulls herself into a standing position on his left shoulder. Her claws dig uncomfortably into him while she moves, but he forgives her. He’s still wearing Geralt’s sweater after all, and the material is just thick enough to keep him from getting maimed.

“Jaskier? Roach?” Geralt’s voice is tired, and Jaskier pops out of the kitchen, grinning and heart beating wildly when he catches sight of Geralt. His white hair is wet with snow, and curls loosely wherever it’s free from his ponytail.

“Geralt! You’re home just in time. Was your flight okay?” Geralt doesn’t say anything for a few moments, eyes dark as they flick over Jaskier, down to his toes and then up again. He holds his hands out for Roach, and she leaps off of Jaskier’s shoulder easily, landing in his waiting arms. Geralt is still staring at him as he allows Roach to snuggle into his arms, but Jaskier is used to this.

“Yes.” He finally says, not saying a word when jaskier comes forward to work him out of his wet jacket, one arm at a time so Roach doesn’t have to be set down. Jaskier can see Geralt’s nostrils flare, and he glances over at the kitchen where the pot pie Jaskier has crafted has begun to smell heavenly. “You’re wearing my sweater.”

Jaskier pauses, cheeks flushed faintly, before he shrugs, chuckling softly. “Somehow I neglected to pack any sweaters, and well, it’s a long train ride home.”

“Hmm. Food?”

“Almost done. Sit, I’ll bring it out.” Geralt nods, toeing off his shoes and tucking them away before settling on his couch. Jaskier ducks into the kitchen to get his pie out and serve it, careful not to burn himself (again). Geralt takes the hot plate from him gently when Jaskier holds it out to him, taking in a deep breath and shooing Roach when she tries to snag a bite of the chicken inside.

They eat in comfortable silence, Jaskier’s feet tucked under Geralt’s thigh to avoid a chill and Geralt only grunting at the cold that seeps through his jeans. Jaskier is halfway done with his pie when he sees Geralt pause with his fork midway to his mouth, a crease forming between his brows and eyes flicking back and forth.

“Geralt?”

“My movies.” Jaskier looks over, sighing and laughing nervously.

“Oh, I uh, was dusting so I moved them, but I couldn’t remember what order they went in. Sorry.” Can Geralt hear his heartbeat? Jaskier worries for a second that he’s going to be found out, but Geralt only frowns and goes back to eating. Jaskier thanks whatever god is out there watching over him and digs back into his food, grateful for the dropped subject. Geralt finishes before Jaskier, staring once again at the shelf full of dvds with a frown on his face. The longer he stares the more nervous Jaskier gets, and he hops up when he finishes, grabbing Geralt’s plate.

“Be right back!” Geralt looks at him briefly as he disappears into the kitchen, and Jaskier thinks he’s going to have a stroke, there’s no way he’s going to get away with it. While he’s freaking out in the kitchen he figures he might as well actually do the dishes, just to say he was doing something other than hiding in here. He’s definitely not hiding in here from his best friend because he broke a dvd and had to replace it. The warm water and bubbles are a nice distraction, but there aren’t many dishes that haven’t already been done and Jaskier is running out of time to just stand here.

Jaskier gathers whatever courage he has left and dries his hands off once he’s certain he can handle more questions, slipping back into the living room. Geralt’s back is to him, and Jaskier definitely doesn’t take a moment to admire the muscles he can see through Geralt’s shirt. Definitely not. Geralt doesn’t seem to pay him much mind, shuffling his dvds around and putting them back in whatever nonsensical order they were in before. Jaskier isn’t quite sure what to do now, or if Geralt expected him to leave, so he goes about gathering his things so that he’s ready at a moment’s notice. He’s hunting for a stray sock he can’t seem to find when Geralt turns sharply on his heel, a white dvd case in hand.

“What did you do?” Geralt’s voice is soft, but Jaskier can hear the accusation in his tone.

“Hmm?” Jaskier looks up from where he’s crammed his head under the couch, eyes widening when he takes in the movie that Geralt is holding. “Uh, the dishes? Pack? I don’t-”

“It’s different.”

“What is, Geralt?” Geralt holds out the case, and with a growing amount of dread, Jaskier realizes that Geralt is both way too asinine and way too meticulous to not find out. “Your movie? I told you, I-”

“Jaskier.” The frown is back, and Jaskier only lasts a moment more under those disappointed eyes before he sighs.

“Right, so uh, I might have had a little accident while cleaning, but I fixed it!” Geralt looks down at the case, and then back up at Jaskier, quirking a brow as if he doesn’t believe him. “Stop looking at me like that! I- ugh, okay so I was cleaning and your organization was just awful- not the point, so I was going to organize your shelf but then-”

“You’re rambling.” Geralt cuts in, expression smooth. “The point?”

“The disc fell out and I don’t know how carpet could damage it, but it uh, kind of broke? In half? So Yennefer-I know- took me to a few stores but we couldn’t find it, so I had to go on eBay to get a new copy.”

Geralt says nothing for a few long moments, just staring at Jaskier while he squirms, looking anywhere but at Geralt.

“Jaskier.” He looks up at the mention of his name, and Geralt is still looking at him, though this time his gaze is warm, and there’s a small tilt to his lips. A hint of a smile that he’s trying to hold back. The sight brings tears to Jaskier’s eyes and he has to blink a few times to keep them at bay.

“You aren’t mad?”

“No.” Jaskier reaches up to rub at his eyes, laughing and shaking his head.

“I must look like an idiot, worried over a dvd, but I didn’t want you to come home to me having broken something after you trusted me to-”

“I have more than one.” Geralt interrupts, and jaskier really should tell him to break that habit.

“Huh?”

“I have more than one copy. For when the other breaks.” For a second Jaskier doesn’t hear what Geralt said. Once his brain catches up to him he bursts out laughing, hardly able to catch a breath between bouts of incredulous laughter.

“So I didn’t- didn’t break your only copy?”

“No. But,” Jaskier has quieted down a bit more now, and Jaskier almost can’t handle the soft expression Geralt is looking at him with. “Thank you, for replacing it.”

“You’re welcome.” Jaskier smiles at him, and they stand there, smiling, until Geralt clears his throat awkwardly.

“So uh, did you want a ride home?”

“Oh, yes, yes that would be lovely. Lead the way.” Jaskier gathers his things, and Geralt doesn’t say a word when he drops Jaskier off, still wearing a sweater much too big for him.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #kind of #its a modern au

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

this isn't a real mermay prompt, but if the mood strikes you: indulgent supernatural sugar daddy indrid? roleplaying that he's finally reached the limit of his patience for duck's teasing and now he's going to tie him to the bed and use him however he sees fit

Here you go! I riffed on something we discussed on the discord. CW for mentions of stripping, blood and booze, the roleplay could be read as dubcon but it's clear what they're doing and that everyone is consenting and enjoying themselves. After care is show.

“Damn, guess they ain’t kiddin when they say it’s the city that never sleeps.” Duck stares from the window of their suite onto the flashing neon and 11 pm traffic of the Las Vegas strip.

“I thought that was New York City?” Indrid looks up from where he’s laying their dinner out on the shiny black table.

“Maybe? I dunno, only ever been there once, on a trip with my folks as a kid.” Duck slides into his chair across from his grinning boyfriend. They picked up a massive spread of food earlier tonight, their friend Barclay having lots of intel on the best food in the city and the affection for them to write out a detailed list where to try.

Indrid grabs a pill from his bag on the bathroom counter, then settles across from Duck with an excited grin, “There, now I can dine without fear.”

They’re well into dessert when Indrid wipes his lips with a thoughtful hum.

“You know, sweet one, this never silent, ever bright environment lends itself well to certain activities.”

“Oh yeah?” Duck leans across the table to take his hand.

“I have more details that we can discuss while we digest, but to begin; how do you feel about dressing like the loudest man on a college campus for the night?”

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

Duck strides into the main floor of the Wynn, the industrial strength air conditioner practically sending him into shock after the heat of the pavement and desert air.

En route to the agreed upon Blackjack table, he makes eye contact with his reflection in a bank of windows. Only the flip flops were in his suitcase when they arrived; the mint green muscle tank and khaki shorts came from the nearest thrift store. He picked up special underwear once he and Indrid separated, suspecting it will make his boyfriend laugh. He loves making him laugh, even during their most intense scenes.

He gets his chips, his seat, and his hand within ten minutes, signaling a waiter for a screwdriver. God only knows why, but it feels like what this kind of guy would order on a Saturday afternoon. Duck’s decent at Blackjack; Juno taught him how to play and Ned helped him refine his technique. So he’s holding his own when a new player sits down two stools to his right.

“I intend to play the eccentric millionaire.”

When Indrid uttered that sentence, Duck pictured a slight variation on his usual evening wear; the suit he brings on trips just so he can take Duck out for nice meals without--as happened on one occasion-- being forced to borrow a jacket from a waiter.

He was not expecting this.

Indrid’s suit is jet black, blood-red lining flashing when he unbuttons his coat. His usual red glasses perch on his nose, and he’s done something to his hair that renders it sleek rather than it’s usual silvery tangle. His back is straight, his smile wide, and his manners pure perfection.

“May I join on the next hand?”

“One sparkling water please. Do add on a nice tip for yourself, won’t you?”

“Twenty! Oh, how delightful.”

Indrid wins more than he loses, careful to go over or come too far under enough times to avoid accusations of counting cards. Duck’s stack of chips dwindles, and he directs his frustration at this fact towards Indrid, muttering unkind things whenever the older man says, “hit me.”

When he’s down to thirty bucks, he taps out. Pushes back from the table with the huff of a man who’s used to getting what he wants. He finds the nearest bar and takes a small table for himself.

The chair across from him doesn’t stay vacant long.

“Hello.” Indrid folds his hands on the table, smiling pleasantly.

“What the fuck do you want?” Duck grumbles.

“To see if you were alright. You seemed rather upset when you left the table.”

“Ain’t upset, I’m fuckin broke. Came to vegas to get laid and get rich and I’m strikin out on both so far.”

“Perhaps I can help. I, ah, we are both here alone. Why don’t we keep each other company? Two bachelors taking on the city.” Indrid gives a very awkward “ta-dah” with his fingers.

“Dunno, I don’t really feel like slummin.”

“You won’t be. I promise.”

Duck leans back in his chair, arms crossed, “Oh yeah?”

A knife-edge enters Indrid’s smile, only to be covered by a menu, “Let me buy you lunch as proof. Order whatever you like.”

He calls the older man’s bluff by ordering a craft beer, the most expensive burger on the menu, and three appetizers, only to discover it was not, in fact, a bluff. Indrid pays for everything without so much as glancing at the prices.

“There now” he smiles at Duck as the waiter clears his leftover steak (“as rare as possible, please”), “have I proven myself a worthy companion?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Excellent” Indrid claps his hands together, “then let us see what else this town has to offer.”

While they digest they peruse the malls and casino hop wherever there are shaded routes that allow them to do so. As they’re maneuvering through the throng near the aquarium, Indrid says, “tell me a bit about yourself, Duck. Nono, wait, let me guess; southern prep school, expensive college, a family very happy to support you while you search for your place in the world?”

Duck nods (the only ways he’s able to lie during their scenes).

“I certainly hope you didn’t burn through your trust fund playing the slots.” Indrid elbows him playfully.

“Nah. Set myself a limit for what I could spend gamblin each day.”

“Clever young thing.”

“Indrid, how old do you think I am?”

“Thirty?”

“Thirty-six.”

The crowd presses them closer together as Indrid murmurs, “You don’t look it.”

“If we’re goin for personal questions, how old are you?”

“Oh, a bit older than yourself.” Indrid replies breezily, “ooh, look, rays!”

When the thermometer flashing in-between advertisements for Lady Gaga and The Osmonds cracks a hundred, Indrid ushers Duck to the indoor pool at their hotel. His new companion lounges in a reserved cabana while Duck soaks in the cool water, other swimmers floating past him or propping themselves on the edges to talk with their partners.

And every time he surfaces, he feels a red tinted gaze watching him. His new friend isn’t even trying to hide it, flat out ogles him whenever he’s in shallow water. Duck’s far from the youngest or most ripped guy here, but Indrid’s eyes never stray. It’s flattering.

It also makes sinking further into his role as easy as slipping into the deep end.

If the rich weirdo wants to buy him fancy shit because Duck is hot, he can knock himself out. It’s not like Duck has to fuck him. But teasing him might get him even more free drinks and expensive souvenirs. If he plays his cards right, he won’t pay for a single thing the rest of his trip.

He hops out of the pool, takes his time drying off and stretching before laying on his belly on the swanky deck chair, facing the opposite direction Indrid is to give the other man a better view of his ass.

“Where to next?” He tries for a purr and only succeeds at exaggerating his drawl.

Indrid’s smile widens all the same, “I have a few ideas. But let’s linger here a bit longer.”

After that he stays as close to the other man as he can, let’s their shoulders bump and fingers brush as they make the rounds for some pre-dinner drinks. He even whispers a flirtatious word or two, makes Indrid blush when he orders a drink called “silver fox,” looks him dead in the eyes and grins, “my favorite.”

He’s plenty tipsy when Indrid steers them into a hallway where bass shakes the floor and pink light disguises the cracks in the walls.

“Can’t say you’ve been to Vegas unless you’ve seen a little sin.” Is all the explanation given before the doors open on a two story strip club.

“Holy fuck.” Duck lets Indrid shepherd him to a stage where several men with abs that look painted on play at fucking the air, the stage, and each other, much to the delight of the two bachelorette parties and the single men dotting the audience.

“You’re a fuckin genius.” Duck growls, sitting when Indrid pushes down on his shoulder. The older man takes the seat to his left, watching the proceedings with polite detachment. He orders a cocktail for Duck and water for himself.

In spite of his apparent disinterest, the dancers all come to Indrid, one after the other. In theory, some of them should pass by Duck afterwards. But they all go right back to the stage or to other patrons. The few times one even looks at him, their eyes immediately slide away onto Indrid.

The fact the other man is handing out fifties and hundreds like they’re singles probably helps.

A tall brunette is currently in Indrid’s lap, and the silver-haired man whispers something and points at Duck.

Suddenly there is a very hot man in a glorified thong in his lap, who gives him a vaseline slick smile, “Your friend over there bought you a dance.”

Indrid waves, the movement grating on Ducks pride. He glares in response.

The older man calls “you looked lonely.”

“I don’t need your fuckin charity.”

Indrid cocks his head, then shrugs, “very well. Please come back here, for double the tip.” He holds up three hundred-dollar bills. The instant the dancer is out of his lap, Duck stands and stomps out, swaying more than when he came in.

The onset of evening has worsened the crowds. He slogs and weaves through them with every intention of getting back to his room, ordering room service, and bandaging his scraped ego

“Why so down, Duck?”

“Fuck! Jesus, let a guy walk in peace will you?” Duck snaps as Indrid falls into step beside him.

“We're on the strip, there's no peace here. No quiet either. Makes it easy to do what one wants.”

Cool fingers find Duck’s wrist, keeping him from breaking ahead to the crosswalk. As they stand and watch the cars and buses roar by, Indrid murmurs, “How about a little friendly game as an apology?”

“Better not be fuckin blackjack.”

“Nono, I’m thinking Poker. If you win, you win bragging rights and whatever else you like that I can give you. But if I win...you have to walk me back to my room. I’ll still buy all the drinks, of course.”

Neon glints off a fang Duck pretends not to see.

“Fuck it, sure. I'm gonna wipe the table with you, old man.”

“I look forward to it.”

In spite of Indrid making good on his promise of drinks, Duck only has one Whiskey Sour before switching to water; being full-on drunk would make him worse at Poker, something he’s complete crap at on the best days. Figures Indrid would choose a game where bluffing is key.”

His card shark of a companion is beating him, and everyone else at the table, soundly. He also declines any food or drinks for himself. After two hours of play and countless hands of defeat, Duck surrenders. Indrid preens, tips their dealer, and wishes everyone else at the table a good night.

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

“Why are we takin the stairs to the top floor?” Duck stares up the winding flights, unable to see their stopping point.

“It’s good for one’s health. And it’s, ah, far more private.”

“Why do you need privacy gettin to your room.”

The footsteps behind him stop as they reach the next landing.

“Simple. I'm hungry.”

Duck whirls just in time to catch Indrid as he lunges at him, fangs bared. It turns out to be a useless movement, the vampire trapping him in a corner effortlessly.

“What the fuck, fuckin let me go.” Duck hisses.

Indrid licks a fang with a thoughtful hum, “I can, though it comes with its own risks.” He sighs, put upon, “But you have been such pleasant company, I suppose it’s only fair to give you a choice. If you let me feed now, I shall be as gentle as I can be and only take a little. Or you can take your chances at outrunning me. However, should I still catch you, then I will take as much blood--and whatever else I like--as I please.” He brushes their noses together, “It’s up to you, sweet one.”

Duck takes a deep breath, the game fading while Indrid gives him time to decide how he wants to play.

Then Duck shoves Indrid away from him and bolts through the nearby door, running down the maze of corridors until he finds his salvation. Indrid’s laugh is still ringing in his ears when the elevator door finally closes.

When the ding announces his floor, he pokes his head out like a prairie dog watching for a hawk. No sign of the vampire. He comforts himself with that though, and with the fact that there’s no way Indrid could catch up to him now, as he click his keycard into the lock.

He shuts the door and reaches for the light switch.

Chilly fingers circle his wrist.

“I win.”

Duck is dragged, then carried, through the darkness, the light not clicking on until he’s tossed onto the bed. Indrid stands at his side, grinning hungrily.

“W-wait, fuck, please, I, how’d you-”

“Quiet.” Indrid tosses his jacket on the floor, straddles Duck with fangs unashamedly on display. Duck whimpers, tries to curl in and protect his throat. Indrid noses at it all the same, “don't worry you spoiled excuse for a man, it won't hurt too much.”

“‘Drid” Duck gasps, tipping his head automatically at the purr in the vampires voice.

Cool lips tenderly meet his own, “Indulge me a bit longer?’

“Hell yeah I will, sugar.” Out of habit, he guides Indrid’s glasses off and sets them out of crushing range, “Uh. Please, my dad is real fuckin wealthy, I'll pay you whatever you want?”

Indrid traces a sharp fingernail along Duck’s collarbone, “What I want is you. All those years getting what you demanded, not lifting a finger, you'll taste very rich.”

“Please don't kill me.” Duck can feel himself getting harder whenever teeth brush his skin.

The vampire cups his cheek, “Not a chance. I need to eat often, after all. And you're perfect to be my new pet. Spoiled, handsome, and no one will miss you.”

“Fuck you” Duck kicks weakly at Indrid’s ankle.

Indrid tuts, “Do I need to tie you down? I could hold you down easily, but I need my hands free to cover that sinful mouth and enjoy this lovely body while I feed.”

“N-no, no I’ll be good, I’llAAH!” His whole body tenses as fangs pierce his neck. He wants to cry out more but it’s perilous, might make him jerk away and tear the skin. But his body has to do something to release the tension, or the taught coils that replaced his muscles might snap and leave him in pieces.

He’s saved by a rush of pleasure melting every tendon, caressing every nerve into calm. Duck sinks into the bed, his body registering the suck of Indrid feeding but feeling no need to intervene. The vampires right hand creeps down to hold Duck’s left, his satisfied hum setting arousal buzzing in his chest.

Duck only realizes he’s been slowly grinding on Indrid’s slacks when the other man laughs, muffled and bloody. The vampire raises his head, lapping at the wounds so not a drop is wasted, “greedy boy. Even when you're dinner you think your pleasure deserves priority.”

“Please.” He wants his teeth in his neck forever, he wants his fingers and tongue between his legs every night.

Indrid kisses the wounds, sits up while daintily wiping his mouth with his shirt-sleeve, staining the starched white with red, “Delectable. Don't go anywhere, pet.”

“Not your fucking pet.” Wooziness pulls any teeth left in his tone, “and, and I thought you wanted me up here cause you were hungry. Now you ain’t. So, so I can go.”

“Oh no, that” he points to the marks on Duck’s neck, “was because I was hungry. The rest of tonight is happening because of your endless teasing.”

“I, uh, I don’t-” Duck turns bright pink.

“You were rather obvious. And silly me, indulging you because of your charms. Well, now it’s time to show me how grateful you are. Let me just slip into something a bit more comfortable.”

Indrid snaps his fingers. Reality gives a sickening crack. Then a mothman stands at the foot of the bed, feathers of soft browns rustling as he stretches his wings. He doesn’t have mandibles, but when he yawns it reveals rows of sharp teeth, the two where his human canines would be noticeably longer than the rest.

“Much better.”

Duck yelps, scrambles back into the headboard as Indrid dives onto the bed.

“Ah-ah” Indrid pins his arms and thighs to the bed with his four hands, “we had an agreement, little one. I get to do whatever I wish to you because you lost. And, more importantly” a long tongue drags up Duck’s cheek, “because that is how spoiled little humans earn their keep.”

“Oh god.” Is all Duck gets out before claws rip his shirt and shorts to colorful pieces. Indrid tips him sideways to finish mauling his shorts and pauses.

“What in the-” the vampire flips him onto his belly, stifles a giggle, “‘Bite me? Rather fitting underwear choice.”

“Thanks” Duck smirks into the blanket.

“Well, since I find myself incapable of denying you things, pet…” reality cracks once more.

“Wh-AHFUCK!” He yanks the nearest pillow over to muffle his cries as Indrid sinks his human fangs into the meat of Duck’s ass. It’s a different kind of pain, not as heart-pounding but just as fun. Indrid isn’t feeding, so he bites down only a few seconds before lifting his head to target another patch of skin. He doesn’t let up until Duck sobs his name into a silk pillow.

The vampire pulls back, but keeps Duck on his forearms and knees as he kisses a curve from his lower back to one of the innermost bite marks. Another shift and claws prick his legs.

“Mmmm, I can smell how turned on you are. I wonder….”

“Fuck, ohfuck” Duck pushes his hips back as Indrid’s tongue infurls down to tease his folds, “Indrid, please, please fuck me like that.”

“‘Ike ‘is?” The tongue presses in, thrusting lazily and without much pressure.

“Yes but, fuck, but more.”

A growl and Duck is slammed onto his back, Indrid looming over him with his wings outspread, “Have you forgotten the purpose of this evening?”

“No.” He stares up into red eyes, too turned on to be sheepish.

“Then why do you keep making demands? You have spent all day asking things of me and now it is time to show me why I tolerate such behavior.” He grabs Duck’s knees, holds them up and open with his lower arms, and purrs, “though there’s no denying your appeal from this angle.”

“Fuck yeah.” Duck fists the blanket in anticipation as Indrid adjusts them to put his head between the human’s legs. Indrid’s tongue caresses his dick, filling the room with slick, obscene sounds.

Then searing pain flashes through his left thigh as Indrid sinks the fangs of his form into it.

“FUCK! I, I thought, moths don’t-”

“Vampire moths do.” Indrid grins before smearing a line of red on Duck’s skin, “and I intend to drink my fill.”

Duck yelps again, slams a hand over his mouth when he remembers there’s two other suites on this floor.

“Be as loud as you like; I cast a little spell on this room to make sure no one hears what I’m doing to my new pet.” He thrusts his tongue into Duck without warning, fucking him on it until he’s bucking his hips, then pulling out to lap and suck at his thigh. When he next returns to sucking Duck’s dick, the feathers around his mouth are as red as his eyes.

Heat builds in Duck’s gut at the sight and he moans, “‘Drid, please, I’m so close to cummin just from this, please just let me cum.”

“Absolutely not.” Indrid drops his legs, dragging him into his lap with a hiss, “you have still not learned your lesson. You think you can get whatever you want just by looking sweetly at me. You’re so very wrong.” His upper arms trap Duck’s own behind his back while his lower set prick his hips, “now be a good pet and keep your legs open.”

Duck doesn’t get a chance to ask why; a cock, covered in vertical ridges with a very thick tip, shoves halfway into him.

“Mmmm, that’s lovely.” Indrid thrusts hurriedly, “now I remember why I put up with your demands all day. Spoiled though you may be, I’ve never had someone fit my cock so well. Ohhhhh” he opens his wings, grinning, “someone likes that.”

“Like you, fuck, Indrid, I swear I wasn’t, uh, wasn’t not teasing, no, fuck FUCKfuck” He takes as much as he can in one thrust, the last third still pulsing outside his body.

“Don’t lie, sweet human. I know you let me spoil you endlessly, teased me mercilessly all day, all while thinking you would spend your evening asleep and alone, rather than where you belong.”

Duck whimpers as his thighs fight to keep up the pace. They give out a moment later but nothing happens; Indrid’s grip on his hips is so strong he’s moving him without help.

“Fuck that’s so fuckin good.”

Indrid flutters his wings “You see how easily I control you, sweet one? You may be strong and handsome, but at the end of the day you’re nothing more than a toy for me to use and discard as I please.”

He whines at that, let’s himself go limp so it’s easier to hide his face in Indrid’s fluff.

“Don’t worry, pet, I shall not discard you. As I said, you are perfect for me, a lovely little gift to myself after a day spent giving them to you.” The hands restraining his arms let go and he instantly wraps them as far around the vampire as he can. Then clawed fingers gingerly stroke his dick. He groans out a thank you and Indrid laughs.

“Oh no, this isn’t for you. I just find that humans taste even better during orgasm.”

Any noise Duck makes in reply is drowned out in fluff and Indrids high, trilling moans as he sinks his teeth into his neck. Duck thrashes helplessly as his orgasm burns out his veins and muscles, leaving a melted man in its wake.

“Perfection” Indrid purrs, licking at the bite to close it as he grunts and pumps his hips, “my spoiled little human is finally worth something OHyesss, yes.” He holds a squirming Duck down on his cock as his spurts into him, the human unable to do anything but cling to him and moan his name.

A sweet voice lilts in Ducks ear, “if you ever forget what you’re for, or dare to tease me so again, I will strap you down in my lap and fill you until it sloshes.”

Duck nods to show he heard, but only gets through half the movement before wincing.

“Oh, oh dear, is the bite too big?”

“N-no, think, think it’s just real sore. You bit hard both times.”

“Let me look to be certain...yes, you’re right, the wounds are the usual size. Come, let’s get you in a bath at once.”

The next thing he knows, spindly arms lower him into the fancy jacuzzi. Indrid chirps over him, telling him how wonderful he is, how well he did, promising to fetch him anything he desires for dinner, all while bandaging the bigger marks and scrubbing blood from his chest. When the vampire is satisfied with his efforts, he takes his human form and joins Duck in the tub. The human immediately waves him into his lap and guides him into a kiss.

“Insatiable thing.” Indrid purrs, nuzzling his cheek.

“Damn right. And you love me for it.”

“That I do.”

#indruck #indrid cold/ duck newton #reader requests #vampire au #monster boyfriend #terato

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jadekitty777 · 3 years

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On Your Six, Chapter 1

Okay first of all, did we all coincide the Taiqrow Week with Father’s Day... accidentally? Because that’s secretly genius.

Secondly, whoops we’re also meshing with Qrowin week - hope y’all are okay to share!

Finally, let’s get down to business. Hi y’all, hope you haven’t missed me too much. Hopefully I can make up for my silence with this absolute beast of a fanfic. This is going to be a single, interconnected story matching the prompts of the entire week. I hope those of you who choose to read it, will enjoy it!

Day 1: Tattoos for @taiqrowweek

Rating: T for this chapter, M for overrall

Words: 2.3k

Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.

Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.

[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]

Ao3 Link: On Your Marks

The day Taiyang walked into his shop, before even a single word was spoken, he knew.

It wasn’t from any particular mannerism. Everyone’s body language was different. A chattering mouth. Averted eyes. A tapping foot. A drooped posture. In the short time Qrow had been doing this, he’d learned no single action could encapsulate the variety in which people expressed their shame.

Yet, not a single one could escape the stench. It was a foul thing. Sharp and smokey, like a tire fire on a junkyard, it lacquered over an omega’s scent so completely that it was near impossible to catch a whiff of the true smell that was originally there.

Even now, as Qrow inspected the damage upon his former friend’s bare back, mere inches away from the man’s scent glands, he couldn’t pick out a hint of the sunflowers and fresh soil that was Tai. Nothing left except the reek of burnt rubber and dishonor.

He didn’t call attention to it, just like he didn’t call attention to the shake in his friend’s shoulders as he placed a hand over the first mark. “This is extensive.”

“I know. But, I didn’t know who else to turn to.” Even as he turned his head to look at him, Tai hunched over a bit, and the brand seared across his shoulder blades stretched with the movement. “You’ll help me, right?”

Qrow’s eyes flitted between watery eyes and stained skin where the word SLUT, all in caps like some mockery of a grand declaration, taunted his every decision since their falling out and left the taste of bile on his tongue.

“Of course.” He promised.

It was widely thought that it was a farmer that first came up with branding back during the Early Modern period. Having been “inspired” by the tagging of the cattle which kept them in order, the alpha decided to do the same to omegas, ascertained the same outcome would follow. The practice was later adopted by prisons and other corrective facilities. Back then, it was merely a way of keeping track of those who had been in and out of the system by searing the skin with an iron that had the center’s insignia on it.

Advancements to the printing press and mail systems did away with that particular need, but while the jails abolished the practice, reformatories did not, releasing studies that claimed the procedure resulted in more ‘proper’ and ‘desired’ behaviors in omegas and were absolutely critical to full rehabilitation. Despite newer evidence showing these original claims were likely falsified simply for convenience and often actually had a devastating effect on an omega’s psyche, the three-century long old policy had yet to be abolished from the system.

The most the outcries had done the past few decades was change the method on which the ‘brand’ was applied. Instead of an iron, it was done with a tattoo needle and instead of an insignia, it became a single word that was like a permanent reminder of what landed the omega in the facility to begin with. The stench was caused by the use of the chemically enhanced ink that made it impossible for laser technology to fully remove.

In short, if an omega wanted the mark gone, their only choice was to cut out their own skin. Most, like his mother, accidentally killed themselves trying.

Which led to where Qrow was today, trying to shake things up in the only way he knew how. So, he jumped off society’s grid, took up a needle and his drawing skills, and turned the marks into works of art. More importantly, he gave the omegas who came to his door a way to recover and take back their lives.

He just never thought Tai would be one of them.

Once he’d taken the pictures he needed and Tai’s shirt was back on, things were relaxed enough he could brew some tea. As he handed the other man his cup, Qrow finally asked, “So, how’d you find me?”

“Wasn’t that hard.” He replied, fingers wrapping around the porcelain. “The omegas back at the reformatory would whisper before bed. It didn’t take me long to figure out they were talking about you.”

Qrow froze, trying to hide his trepidation. “Oh? They say my name?”

Tai snorted. “Not your name, but a name.” His expression turned cheeky. “Don’t worry though. Only someone who knows Harbinger used to be your Relics & Wyverns character could put the pieces together.”

“Ah, can it!” He barked as a flush worked its way up his neck. Still, tension drained from him. While there were no laws that specifically stated what an omega was required to do with their mark after their rehabilitation was complete, if he was caught tampering with it for them, he knew the courts could claim he was willfully interfering with a person’s emotional stability. Might even get him on a few counts of practicing mental health care without a license too.

Still, he didn’t particularly want to be sent to the slammer, which was why he worked so hard to keep to the underground. Never told anyone his name. Moved often. Kept minimal contact with clients. Whatever it took to make sure only the people who needed to find him could.

“I’m glad that you’re doing alright for yourself.” Tai said, giving a cursory glance to the shoddy working space that doubled as his apartment. Beyond his tattoo kit, he rarely took much with him when he relocated. Sometimes he got lucky on the accommodations and the place would already be partially furnished, other times he had to make do with what he could afford from the nearest thrift store.

This place was one of those latter times. He had a mattress on the torn up box spring with a chipped nightstand beside it, a circular, rickey table with two chairs for the dining room, a fairly barren kitchen area, and a slightly beat-up leather recliner for the clients.

It wasn’t hard to see Tai was really reaching as he said, “Your place is… nice?”

It was Qrow’s turn to snort. “At least be honest and tell me I live in a shithole.”

“I was not going to – okay, yeah it is kind of a shithole. But, you’re eating okay and everything, right?”

What an omega. “Yes mom, I’m getting my three squares a day and I’m even brushing my teeth before bed.” He lent back, the plastic chair creaking underneath as he did so. “But you didn’t exactly come here to critique my living conditions. Think there’s a lot more important stuff to talk about, don’t you?”

Suddenly, the tea was much more interesting than his face. “Yeah. Right. Um, guess there’s a lot to catch you up on, huh? You don’t even know about-”

“Whoa, hold up a sec.” He quickly interrupted. “Let’s get one thing straight: I don’t ask for any of my clients’ stories unless they feel like sharing. Some do, some don’t. But my help doesn’t come with any strings attached.” He met his gaze, stressing the next part carefully, “Even if they’re friends, okay?”

Tai still seemed to hesitate. “But, don’t you want to know about Yang?”

Of course, he did. He had about a thousand and one questions whirling through his head. But that didn’t matter right now. “You ready to talk about her?”

For the second time that day, tears shimmered in Tai’s eyes. He looked away quickly, saying nothing.

Yeah. He figured as much.

“Then no.” Qrow cleared his throat some. “Besides, I’m still a total disaster when it comes to handling people when they cry.”

That one, at least, earned him a weak chuckle.

“Some things never change?” Tai said with a sniff, rubbing the corner of his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“If it ain’t broke…” He shrugged. “Anyways, what I meant was, how do you want to change up that lil’ blemish a’yours?”

“I, uh, I don’t know. What do you normally do?”

“Turn it into a single design. But, I’ve never had to work on one so large before. That thing’s taking up about half of your back. Still doable, just… more difficult.” It was easy to busy his designs enough the word got lost under all the rest. Working on a scale of this size though, there weren’t many things he could think of that would both look nice and cover up the word. “Not to mention, we’ll have to take a lot of breaks, so your skin can heal.”

“How long do you think it would take?”

“Well, with three weeks between each session and the scale and details… probably nine to twelve months?”

Tai’s face fell. “Oh.”

“Something wrong?”

“Oh, no I mean…” He sighed. “I was just, kind of hoping it would be done before October, is all. Before the kids come home.”

Kids?!

As in plural?!

Qrow had to bite his tongue to physically stop himself from breaking his own rule. Took a deep, steadying breath.

Okay. That was six months away. There was no way. Unless…

“Well, we could make it four separate designs. One for each letter. That way I could work on one side and then the other while it’s healing. If we meet every week, should be doable. Gonna be some long hours under the needle for you though.”

Tai lit up just like the sun he was named after. “I can handle it. I’ll do anything. Oh-! We could even make it four dragons, couldn’t we?”

Qrow barked out a laugh. “I mean yeah, if that’s what you want. Give me your scroll deets. I’ll work up some designs over the next few days and send them to you.” As he pulled out his device to input the information, he added, “We gotta work out a schedule too. What days are RO?”

“She visits on Tuesdays and Saturdays right now. It’ll go down to once a week pretty soon. I’m also TA-ing at Sanctum Middle, so weekdays are pretty full.”

It was all par for the course. Even after doing time at the reformatory, omegas still had to have frequent visits from their rehabilitation officer, to make sure they were keeping a steady job and homelife. That meant good evaluations from his superiors and a living space that looked like not even a speck of dust had had a chance to touch down. This was especially important for omegas like Tai, who would have to fight for every top mark he got. If he failed to, the RO would claim he was still unfit to raise his own children and keep them in the fostering system.

Qrow knew that was the reason for the six-month time limit. He had no doubt that once Tai was out of parole and had his pups back, he’d be hightailing it out of the kingdom. But for the RO to still be visiting at that frequency… “Did you come looking for me right after you got out?”

“I-” The tea had become interesting again. And cold. “Yeah. I knew you were working out of Mistral, and Atlas allows for transfers to Argus.”

At this rate, his tongue was probably going to have indents from his incisors. Once he knew he wasn’t going to start prying or, worse yet, shouting at Tai - because really how stupid could he be?! – he opened his mouth and said, “So, Sundays then?”

For the first time in nearly six years, Tai smiled at him. “Sounds perfect.”

For the next few days, Qrow did nothing but draw. Whether it was with a buzzing needle or a pencil, his hand was rarely empty. Even as he downed his morning coffee or spun his suppertime noodles onto his fork, his other hand was moving over a sheet of paper, his muse on overdrive as he tried to pick out the perfect designs for each letter. By nightfall, he was sending at least half a dozen pages full of sketches to Tai, then checking his phone every five minutes as he impatiently anticipated his reply.

It didn’t actually matter where they started, because once they decided on which letter was going first, Qrow’s focus would narrow to the second one over. The tricky thing was, Tai had always been the type who was simple to please – well before a reformatory could ever drill that lesson into him. Even when they were young, whether it was a question of what game they wanted to play or what food they wanted to eat, Tai would almost always just grin and say ‘whatever you want’. Which meant, every sketch was perfect and Qrow had to work twice as hard to actually find something he truly fell in love with.

He knew he finally struck gold for S when Tai figured out how to use the circling tool on his scroll and sent the shot back with an exuberantly loud ‘THIS ONE’, followed by a horrendous amount of exclamation points.

Qrow had never felt prouder.

It was a small effort to resketch the piece in full and line it. Adding color was more challenging, as he had to balance what looked nice with the limitations of his inks. But leaving it without was absolutely not an option. Not for someone who used to decorate his walls with paintings of tropical beaches and autumn-locked forests and had had a Crayola box spectrum of begonias sitting on his windowsill in his childhood room. Tai was a man who radiated a rainbow both in his life and in his heart. To try to dull that by leaving him in nothing but blacks and grays was a crime Qrow wasn’t willing to commit.

Besides, the design wouldn’t translate well without it.

So, he kept working at it until he knew it was just right. When the omega’s excitement only seemed to grow, he knew his labor was over.

#qrow branwen #taiyang xiao long #Taiqrow #taiqrowweek #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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overwatch-does-stuff · 3 years

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Lindholm Family Headcanon Dump!

I know Michael Chu retracted the statement that Torbjorn has a bunch of kids, but Chu just quit so I make the rules now. It’s a LONG post under the cut because I got carried away. Mostly starring Torbjorn, but featuring Ingrid, Reinhardt, and Brigitte (plus a bunch of other kiddos that exist but I don’t have headcanon names for yet oops.) There won’t be any Bastion in this one because that’s an entire other post’s worth of content.

- Torb has a big family. He and Ingrid had a couple children of their own while he had a stable position in Overwatch, but they found out that they loved having little children around the house, so after all of their biological children moved out, they chose to volunteer in the foster system! This lead to them adopting at least four more kids. - Which means they drive a huge van everywhere. - Both Ingrid and Torbjorn are masters at driving as a result. - They’re exactly equivalent in skill with one exception: Ingrid can parallel park the van, a skill he has yet to figure.

- Their house is pretty big (the Overwatch paycheck paid well, that, along with Ingrid’s income,) so there’s plenty of room for all of them. - There’s three levels: upstairs (for the bedrooms and playrooms,) downstairs (for entertaining spaces/the kitchen and stuff,) and finally, the basement, which is Torbjorn’s personal workshop. - Most third world countries would kill to have a workshop as good as his. - It’s all because Ingrid spoils him so much. He gets just as excited for Christmas as his kiddos do. - “The latest arc welder? Aww, honey, you shouldn’t have!” - Ingrid doesn’t work in his field, but she listens to his special interests dumps, and puts in enough research of her own, that she knows just what to get him every year. - Ingrid doesn’t like getting gifts as much as he does, so for Christmas, he always makes sure to spend quality time with her. He jokes that he ‘sucks at planning dates’ but he really doesn’t! For her, it’s nothing but the top restaurants and most exciting experiences. She loves going ice skating in particular, something that he hates but will always do with her. - Torbjorn and Ingrid split the cooking equally. They’re a bit traditionally gendered with what they like to cook, with Torb leaning more towards grilling and Ingrid preferring baking, but it suits them just fine. - Their grill, along with every other cooking contraption in the house, has been upgraded in some way. In fact, Torb’s the one who grills only because Ingrid still can’t figure out how to use the damn thing since he upgraded it. - Their house is covered in contraptions of all sorts. Other than the grill, Ingrid utilizes every single one of them. Meals get served and sent around via chutes. The floors sweep and mop themselves automatically when they’re dirty. The dishwasher loads, washes, and unloads itself in record time. - You know the zany contraptions in the Addam’s family house? Think that, but more brightly colored. - However, Ingrid’s taste in interior decorating is the opposite of gothic or minimalist- she loves quirky, unique features and bright colors. - She loves thrifting. - The huge chair they got for Reinhardt in the living room was a thrift store find that she’s still very proud of. - She also has an old-fashioned “live laugh love” wall with all of the family portraits. She knows it’s cheesy, but it’s nostalgic for her. - She doesn’t just bring furniture home. She also brings home cats. - That’s right. Brigitte got her cat love from Ingrid. - It’s a long-standing tradition, with the first cat she brought home was over thirty years ago when they were a new couple. - Torbjorn swore that it would be her cat and that he wouldn’t take care of it. - He was wrong. - Very wrong. - He now loves his cats and calls them cutesy nicknames in whatever language he feels like in the moment. - He built them automated feeders, automated litter boxes, and even some automated toys. He spoils them rotten. - Every time Ingrid brings home a new cat it’s the same routine. He swears that this will be the last one and that he’s not taking care of this one! But that’s wrong and he knows it. - But, because Ingrid’s always bringing things home, she’s a little more tolerant when Torbjorn brings. . . a specific Omnic. . . home.

- But that’s a whole other fanfic that I would need to write, so instead, back to the parenting! - Ingrid is 100% a feral soccer mom. Torbjorn is just as bad. - They’re the ones screaming their lungs out at sports games. - They have a house rule where their kids have to participate in one extracurricular sport. It can be school teams, club teams, or even just working out on their own, but fitness is something that both Ingrid and Torb consider important. - Torbjorn, of course, built his own gym in the basement. He trained with Brigitte, and now he trains with another one of his daughters who’s taken an interest in weight-lifting. - But this all doesn’t mean that the Lindholms discourage more creative talents! - Torbjorn crafted a giant steel board where any arts and crafts get hung with magnets. One of his little boys is an artist and he couldn’t be more proud. - Brigitte experimented with metal art when she was a teenager, and many of her pieces are now permanent fixtures in the Lindholm home. - She crafted a particularly beautiful string of lights that hangs above the dining room table.

- Now it’s time for Uncle Reinhardt!!! - Okay, so maybe he’s called just ‘Reinhardt’ by the older kiddos, but everyone knows he’s essentially an uncle in all but blood. - He’s been invited to every holiday celebration for about. . . actually, he’s just always been there. - He’s a true multi-generational staple. Brigitte can’t remember a holiday without him, and now the younger kiddos are getting doted on by him every Christmas. - Rein loves telling stories for the children. He spends the entire car ride there planning his multi-hour epics. - Now that she’s older, Brigitte sometimes helps with the storytelling, contributing sound effects and such. - Something which just causes Torbjorn to laugh and shake his head. - Reinhardt also loves nothing more than being a walking jungle gym. As soon as he walks in the door, he’ll grab the nearest kiddo and put them on his shoulders. He’s often seen walking around with a kid in each arm and usually an extra hanging off his back. - Sometimes he gives Ingrid a heart attack when he starts throwing kids around, but hey, she’s known him long enough at this point that she (mostly) trusts him. - Everyone gets sad when Reinhardt has to leave, but he insists that there is justice that needs to be done. He soothes the kiddos by promising an even better story when he gets back.

- Now it’s time to get sad. . . here’s my Brigitte headcanons. . . - Brigitte was REALLY close with her father growing up. She spent so much of her time in his workshop learning from him, as one of the only Lindholm children to take a liking to machinery and engineering. - However, when she moved out. . . she found it difficult to escape his legacy. Everyone, many of the older industry professionals and the like, expected her to be just like her father. They tried to cajole her into finishing old weapons designs that Torbjorn had abandoned. - It was then that she learned the full extent of Torbjorn’s involvement in the Omnic Crisis. - She had a lot of trouble reconciling this news with her love for him. It’s still something she had great difficulty with. - This shock played a big part in her decision to give up on finding a job in the industry and instead accompany Reinhardt on his travels. - It wasn’t a decision that Torbjorn endorsed, which hurt their relationship even further. - But it’s not like he doesn’t try to keep in touch. They call every other weekend or so to catch up, but there’s always a tension between them that neither one is ready to address. - They will talk about it someday. They’ll figure things out. They care about each other too much for either one to give up. - In the meantime, though, Brigitte has gotten a lot closer with her mother. She calls her much more often. - They talk about all of the things that Brigitte wasn’t all that interested in when she was younger. Stuff like fashion, makeup, and more traditional advice, such as how to get a date or what it feels like to fall in love. - Ingrid also makes sure to show her how the cats are doing over the online call.

- To be truthful, Ingrid isn’t too worried about Brigitte’s decision to live the rough-and-tumble lifestyle. It reminds her a lot of her own young adulthood, where she decided to pick up everything and move to the big city to get away from her parents. - She’s quick to remind Torbjorn that her own little rebellion is how they came to meet whenever he gets worried about Brigitte’s decision. - (They met at Ironclad. The only job Ingrid could find after her big move was working secretary. She fell head-over-heels for him immediately, while it took him a while to warm up.) - (Their first date was just walking around the city, with Torbjorn talking almost the entire time about random things he saw. He’d see the newest cars on the street and dive into what he knew about that industry. They’d pass by a construction sight and he’d point out what tool designs were similar to the ones he was working on.) - (When he realized that she was actually listening to him and taking him seriously, he agreed to a second date and never looked back.) - They aren’t a perfect couple- they’ve had their fair share of arguments, especially because they’re both deeply stubborn, but they’re always able to work it out in a way that makes them both happy. That skill is why they’ve lasted so long. - One thing they’ve never argued about, though, is Torbjorn’s commitment to duty. When they started dating he made it clear that his work was very important to him. Ingrid made it clear that she was willing to be patient. - It got hard when he was away for months at a time with Overwatch during the Crisis and its aftermath, but through constant online calls they managed. - The biggest surprise of Ingrid’s life was when he told her he wanted to have kids when the Crisis ended. - Turns out, having a major life crisis about how your career impacted the world makes someone want to find another purpose in life besides their career. - And thus, they dove into parenthood together. - Now they both couldn’t be happier :)

#overwatch #torbjorn lindholm #overwatch torbjorn #ingrid lindholm #reinhardt #overwatch brigitte #brigitte lindholm #I have so many feelings about Torbjorn and his family. . .#I'm not sure this is very articulate but eh #who cares #it's content

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7official7moose7 · 4 years

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Probably one of the most rushed fics I’ve ever wrote!

Yes, here it is! Ladies and gentlemen, individuals alike, I present to you..

(insert drumroll here)

A platonic shopping date between two absolute babies :)

@xgoldentigerlilyx @teyamarra @reid-and-writing I’m very sorry for the quality of this fic, it’s okay at first but then it gets really out of character somewhere in the middle and I was way too lazy to fix it so I hope it’s not too bad-

“Spencer, wait up!”

Reid looked up to see Garcia rushing to the elevator, and he held the door for her. He flashed her a smile as she thanked him.

“Do you have any plans this weekend?” Garcia asked, and Reid shook his head.

“No, but I do have a book I need to finish before Sunday. Why do you ask?” the elevator stopped, and they both stepped out, making their way outside.

“Oh, I was just wondering if you’d like to come with me to the new mall down on East Street. It just opened a couple of days ago, and I wanted someone to go with, if that’s okay with you?”

Spencer thought. I don’t really do shopping. But, she did go with me to that philosophy convention. I owe her.

“Yeah, I’ll go,” he said, “Tomorrow at twelve?”

Penelope threw her fist in the air with a “Yes!” and smiled up at him. “Absolutely, I’ll be there to pick you up on the dot! Thank you, boy wonder!” she said as they neared her car and Reid waved her goodbye as he continued down the sidewalk. Breathing in the warm August air, he smiled.

…

Spencer entered his apartment and sat his bag down beside the door. It was late, around ten or so. He flicked on the lights and plopped down on the couch, grabbing a book called Crime Or Clarity by Fiona Dewitt. It was a more simple read, but Spencer was enjoying it so far. He flipped to page 305 and continued where he left off.

“It would not be everyday that Steve Goodway would find himself wondering about his place on this earth. Everything he has accomplished, everything he’s fell short of. Is this really it? Or is there more, just beyond his reach? So, on this very day, he would promise himself that he would keep an open mind and an open heart to anything that calls his name through the brambles and nettle, and he would follow it even when the path doesn’t seem so inviting.”

Tomorrow was going to be a good day.

…

Penelope Garcia awoke at 9:48 a.m. with a smile on her face and a happiness in her heart. She started her day with a warm shower and sweet coffee. After that, she messaged Spencer, asking if he was still up for the mall date. He replied three minutes and twenty-seven seconds later with a “Getting ready now. :)”, and she smiled even brighter.

Garcia couldn’t wait to explore all the new stores and see what kind of crazy cute outfit they had in stock. She couldn’t wait to show Reid all the wonderful wonders of shopping and hopefully find a nice outfit for him. She couldn’t wait to convince him to wear said outfit to the Bureau on Monday.

It was now 11:37 a.m. and Garcia couldn’t wait to pick Spencer up.

…

Spencer Reid waited patiently on the couch, dressed in his usual sweater vest and button-down shirt. It was one minute and fifty-seven seconds after twelve when Penelope knocked on his apartment door, and when he opened it, they greeted each other with smiles and started down the stairs to the first floor. Penelope wore a green floral dress and a jean jacket with a dozen pins and stickers on top. Her black mesh leggings went well with her sparkly black bow and heels.

They chatted all the way to the car and kept chatting as they pulled out of the parking lot.

“So, how’d you sleep?” Garcia asked.

“Good, I read 393 pages of Crime Or Clarity before I fell asleep on the couch. You?”

“Like a baby. As soon as I got home, I poured myself a glass of wine and I was out after an hour.”

Spencer hummed. “You know, places like a mall are much more hectic during the weekends, especially near holidays. Why do you choose to go during this time rather than waiting for it to clear up?”

Garcia laughed. “I like people watching, it gives me inspiration and a sense of peace, knowing that those people are out living their lives despite all the nasties out there doing bad things.”

“Actually, statistics prove-”

“Hey, let me have this. That’s all I ask of you,” Penelope said. Spencer giggled at her, and she gave him a smug smile.

Before they arrived at the mall, Garcia suggested they stop for lunch after she noticed both of their stomachs were growling. They ordered sandwiches from the nearest deli and sat in the shade of the umbrella on the patio outside the shop.

Afterwhile, it started to get crowded, so they took it as their cue to get going. It was 1:13 p.m. when they finally found a parking space close to the entrance of the mall.

…

“Which store first?”

Spencer shrugged, knowing very little about any and every shop in the building. He looked around and pointed to one that looked interesting.

“What about that one?” he asked, and Garcia followed his eyes to the Way Out Thrift across the hall. She gasped and looked up at him. “You have great taste,” she said as she led him in.

This thrift store had everything.

Spencer looked around, unsure where to start or even what to look for. Garcia immediately wandered to the clothes section, rummaging through racks of shirts and dresses. She noticed him standing there, so she waved him over and showed him a big beige sweater. “What do you think?” she asked, holding it up against his chest to measure. He took it and examined the fabric. “It’s nice, but this wool is coarse, which can irritate the skin. A finer wool would be better because fine wool sheep produce wool fibers with a very small fiber diameter, usually 20 microns or less.” he rambled on, giving Garcia time to find a light purple turtleneck. “This one’s cotton, what about this one?” she asked, again measuring it on him before he felt it.

“Cotton fabric is considered better, though some people disagree because of the pesticides. Some cotton is grown with genetically modified seeds and sprayed heavily with Roundup, in which the primary ingredient is glyphosate, which could lead to cancer. But I don’t think it’s that bad,” he said, “In fact, I really like the feel of it.”

Garcia smiled. “Good, because this thing is going in your closet!” she said, and Spencer blinked. “I’m paying for it, don’t even think about it,” he said and Penelope gave him a look. “My treat?” she tried to convince him, but he refused. She stuck out her bottom lip in a fake pout, which made them both laugh.

After a little more looking around, Penelope and Spencer went to check out. Garcia ended up with a pretty yellow shift dress that Reid suggested, and a small woodpecker figurine for her office. Reid stuck with the purple turtleneck and picked up an additional sweater vest for his collection. Garcia suggested that he try something out of his zone, and he said he’d think about it.

“Where to next?” Spencer asked as they wandered down the hall, passing tons of shoe shops.

“Unless you want a new pair of kicks, maybe we could go up the escalator and see what they have up there,” Penelope joked.

“Escalator it is,” he said.

…

“Did you know there were thirty-seven deaths in 2014 in China caused by escalator accidents, and a report found that more than twenty-six thousand escalators had safety issues that hadn’t been repaired?”

“No. No, I didn’t know that,” Garcia said, shifting closer to Reid, “And I don’t think I needed to know.”

A couple of people looked at them suspiciously when he said that, and Spencer almost felt bad for saying it out loud. Almost.

Once they made it to the top, all the smells were like a smack in the face. There were multiple food courts, including a donut shop and an icee stand. There was the new car smell, along with some kind of strong fragrance, most likely from a perfume shop. Enough to give them both headaches.

“Jeez, it’s like aroma central up here,” Penelope remarked. Spencer nodded in agreement.

There were way less clothing stores on the second floor, but there was one store that stuck out to Reid.

“What’s RetroWear?” he asked, pointing to the sign above the entrance. Garcia hummed. “I’ve never heard of it, it must be a new store,” she said.

“Wow, a clothes store that you’ve never heard of? So rare.”

“Don’t start with me, genius,” Garcia warned with a smirk, “Let’s go check it out, I’m sure they have some absurd piece of luxury clothing in there somewhere!”

Before Spencer could react, Penelope grabbed his wrist and dragged him in.

And oh boy, did that store have the good stuff.

Sweater vests here. Ties over there. Pretty floral dresses in between. And a whole section dedicated to Absurd Pieces Of Luxury Clothing.

“Oh. Em. Goodness,” Garcia whispered, “It’s like the shop gods just read my mind.”

Reid was also pretty impressed, and for the first time that day, he was the first to immediately begin looking at all the outfits. Garcia followed after him, showing him expensive Gucci purses and handbags she found while he presented to her a fuzzy orange sweater that he said would match her orange slice earrings. She gladly accepted it and gave him a nice pair of sunglasses in return.

After a bit of rummaging around in their sections, Penelope and Spencer decided that it was time that they go through the luxury clothes section. Spencer showed her a green and purple romper with plastic rhinestones lining the neck and sleeves, which made her laugh and kindly decline his offer to buy it for her. Next, she showed him a tiny crop top with a band logo on the back and a weed leaf on the front, claiming that it was definitely his style and that she was going to give it to him for his birthday.

But the best thing they found that day was Spencer’s secret bad boy look.

…

“Hurry up, smart boy! I wanna see that smokin’ hot emo side of yours!”

Spencer sighed from inside the fitting room. “I don’t know, Penelope, it’s not really my style,” he said as he examined himself in the mirror, and Garcia scoffed. “That’s the whole point! Now get out here and let me see it.”

Finally, after a bit of contemplating, Spencer unlocked the door and stepped out.

Garcia gasped.

He wore a red-and-black striped t-shirt and black skinny jeans with rips at the knees and a big leather jacket on top.

“Well?”

“I love it. I love you. I don’t care what you say, I’m buying that entire outfit for you and you cannot stop me.”

“Penelope, you don’t have to-”

“I want to. And I am. And you’re wearing that into work on Monday.”

“What- No, I can’t! Everyone’s gonna look at me like I’m crazy!”

“Then I’ll wear that ridiculous romper you showed me earlier to make us even.”

Reid rolled his eyes. “You always wear that kind of stuff, they won’t notice,” he said, throwing in a “No offense” after she glared at him. “Oh, everybody in that building knows I don’t do rompers. Trust me, they’ll notice,” she joked.

After some of convincing, Spencer let her buy the outfit for him, but he wouldn’t let her get the romper. He did, however, manage to pay her back with a fancy new pen to add to her collection.

…

It was now 4:46 p.m. and they were both exhausted. Garcia began to argue with herself about wearing heels around the mall of all places, and Reid’s legs, too, were getting tired. They decided to eat dinner in the food court since neither of them were ready to end the fun just yet.

“These tacos taste funny,” Spencer said, and Penelope shrugged. “Mine tastes fine. Did I order the wrong one? I’m so sorry if I did.”

Spencer smiled. “No, it’s fine. I just haven’t had tacos in a while.”

“That’s a sin. I have vegetarian tacos almost every saturday.”

They both laughed, the sound ringing all throughout the mall. The smiles on their faces were like those of little kids on a playground, and they were living for it.

“Fun fact, most experts state that the first taco was actually invented somewhere between 1,000 and 500 B.C. At the time, the taco was more of an edible spoon, however the first recorded reference to the word taco came about in the 19th century. The first mention of the word taco in the United States didn’t come around until 1905.”

“How do you know these things?”

“Lots of history books. Or this brochure,” Spencer giggled, handing to Penelope the small foldable. She rolled her eyes with a playful smirk. “You’re very funny.”

“Thanks, I try my best.”

“Why don’t you ever joke like this in the bureau?”

Reid shrugged. “I guess it’s because I know that there’s someone in danger out there, and I just can’t bring myself to laugh it off like everyone else.”

Garcia averted her gaze. “Huh. I never thought about it that way.”

“N-not that it’s bad to joke around on the job, I know it helps some people and I’m not putting you down for it, It’s just—different with me I think.”

“Oh, I get that. I do it for the same reason I decorate my desk, it helps me cope with all the horrible things we see on the daily.”

There was a moment of silence, until Spencer spoke again, “How did we end up talking about this?”

Penelope laughed, and suddenly everything was back to sunshine and rainbows. “You mentioned the history of a taco.”

...

Soon, it started to get late. Reid and Garcia had stopped by her place for a couple hours to watch a movie and finish off the wine that she bought out of impulse last friday. It was 7:56 p.m. when Garcia dropped Reid off at his apartment, and she gave him a friendly hug before saying goodbye.

“Oh, and, Spencer?”

“Hm?”

Garcia smiled. “You don’t have to pretend that you don’t like the outfit. I know that look when I see it, and I can tell that you’re secretly excited to wear it on Monday.”

Reid felt a light blush settle across his face. “Thanks, Penelope.”

“No problemo, genius boy.”

And with that, Spencer entered his apartment and sat his bag down beside the door. He flicked on the lights and plopped down on the couch, grabbing Crime Or Clarity by Fiona Dewitt off the coffee table. He flipped to page 698 and continued where he left off.

“Goodway would smile wide, wider than he has in a very long time. He would realize then that he doesn’t need this world, and this world doesn’t need him, as long as he has his good friend Mick. Mick, who cares for him, who enjoys his company, and who will go to the ends of the wretched world to be there for him.”

And that night, Spencer Reid also realized that. And he did indeed smile wider than he has in a long while.

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gongju-juice · 4 years

Text

2. Once Upon a Southern Night

Adopted Cousins

Warnings: Some language mah bois. . .that goes for the rest of the series, minor assault incident because men are trash

The following week of school was quite exciting. People from all over the school were interested in your story. Amelia had gotten you acquainted with her friends—jocks, nonetheless—but they were fairly easy to get along with and you weren’t the type to stereotype.

History was even better. You could really flex your skills in your class, and not feel worried that you’d be rebuked. And Pre-Calculus and Chemistry wasn’t even as hard as you originally thought it would be. All in all, things were great.

Since your first day, you hadn’t spoken to Jasper or any of the Cullens once. Sometimes you thought the tiny one, Alice, would smile at you behind your back as if she knew some big secret you didn’t. But she didn’t intimidate you, and neither did the others. Rosalie did seem a little off, but you figured that it had to do with the ridiculous number of boys confessing to her every week. And as for the others—Emmett and Edward—they seemed pretty normal. Though sometimes you wondered why Edward seemed to be so annoyed all the time, or why whenever you passed by him in the hallway, he inexplicably smirked from ear to ear.

One day, however, you had to sit at Amelia’s table without her. There was David, Mallory, Tyler, and Sarah. They were all the best athletes in the junior class, and you lowkey felt out of place being the only one at the table who didn’t play a sport.

“How was Psychology?” Mallory asked, digging into her leafy salad. She was a broad shoulder girl, whose athletic frame was large and unlike the “skinny-fit” girls you saw on tv.

You nodded. “Pretty good. We learned a lot about the brain and its association with fear.”

You began stirring your gumbo. Since you were a kid, you never liked eating school lunches anyway. And in addition to that, you obligated your mom and yourself to prepare only southern style dishes to remind you of home.

“Hey, Y/N,” David called, nudging your shoulder. “Do you think you could help me with math? All of this theta, alpha—whatever this shit is—it’s giving me a headache. Could I maybe come by your place tonight and get some help?”

You smiled hesitantly. You didn’t mind helping him, but you weren’t exactly about to let some boy you hardly talked to come to your house without your mother’s foreknowledge. Besides, what was wrong with tutoring on campus?

“We can do it at the school library,” you suggested. “Make sure you bring your things though. You’ll need your calculator, a pencil, and some paper.”

He grumbled lowly to himself, but you thought it best not to inquire after him. Instead, you continued sipping at your food. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement at the Cullen table.

At the end of the day, you walked to your locker and grabbed your things. The thing about Forks High School was that everybody seemed to automatically shift to their cars, in race to leave out onto the empty streets of the town.

You made your way to the parking lot to drop some of the things off at your car—the brand new pale yellow Volkswagen Beetle your mom bought for your sixteenth birthday. It’d arrived in Washington State on campus just an hour before you had to leave your first day of school.

You turned around and began heading towards the school. . .but where to go? You forgot where the library even was. Was it nearest the front entrance or the side? You decided to go to the side, not knowing that the ramifications of your actions would forever change your life.

“Y/N!” a voice called, and you whirled around on your Oxford heels, thankful it was only David leaning on the brick wall behind you.

“Ah, David! I must’ve been going the wrong way, wasn’t I? I bet it’s better to go to the front entrance. Well, we’re here now. Might as well keep going,” you giggled anxiously.

You reached your hand for the door handle, only to have your hand forcefully snatched in the grasp of his.

“We don’t have to do it in the library,” he said quietly, a sinister grin on his face. “We could do it in your car, inside the bathroom, if you’d like.” He leaned in closer. “Or we could do it right here.”

You tried to politely pull your hand from his only to realize that he was not talking about tutoring. He grabbed your shoulder and pushed you against the cold door, the backs of your thighs touching the metal. You struggled to push him off, but he was much stronger.

“I’m serious, David! This is not what you want! You’ll get in serious trouble, and I don’t give you consent or permission to touch me like this in any way!”

He smiled down at you. “Touch you. . .like this?” His fingers crawled down the sides of your skirt until they ripped down the material to the concrete.

You screamed, but suddenly he was gone. Jasper had him pinned up against the opposite wall, David’s feet dangling inches from the group.

“I will fucking kill you,” he said angrily. “If you ever touch her again. If you even look at her, I will personally rip your throat from your insides and make you wish you were never born.”

David nodded hysterically, his features contorted in terror. “Anything you want, man! Please—I won’t ever do it again. Just please put me down, please!”

Edward and Emmett appeared by Jasper’s side and forcibly lowered the quarterback from the wall. Emmett locked him in a choke hold and pushed him forward while Edward made a barrier of himself so that Jasper could not pursue.

“Are you okay?” Alice asked frantically, her golden eyes staring into yours. Rosalie pulled your skirt back up around your hips, but the cloth was ripped at the zipper and couldn’t be reattached. Tears were streaming down at your eyes at that point, but you nodded, too lost for words to reply.

“She needs some new clothes,” Rosalie warned, guarding your vulnerable form with her body. You stared at your pathetic skirt. It was a cute little plaid design you found while shopping at a thrift store in Port Angeles on your way from the airport.

Jasper took the leather jacket from his shoulders and handed it to his sister carefully. She tied the thing around your waist on top of the skirt so that it held it together. Then, they led you to the office.

Within three minutes, a squad car showed up. It was the police Chief, Charlie Swan, a man with a thick black mustache and chocolate dark eyes. He took one look at David before hauling him in handcuffs.

“This is the second complaint we’ve had against you this month,” he announced through gritted teeth. “Except this time, we’ve got witnesses. You had such promise kid, but all you want to be is a sex offender.”

David cried in protest before he was thrown in the back of the car.

“Are you alright?” the Chief asked. “You’ll have to come by the station for questioning and a full police report. . .do you think you’re in an okay mental state to do so?”

You nodded. “But can I go home first? He broke my skirt.”

He reflexively looked at your waist which resulted in Jasper hawking him down.

“Of course. And if possible, bring the skirt back with you in a plastic bag. It’s evidence.”

The siblings escorted you to your car, where, interestingly enough, a crowd had formed.

“Thanks, you guys, I don’t think things would’ve turned out as fortunate as they did if not for y’all.” You looked up at Jasper’s warm honey eyes. “And I thank you most of all, Jasper. You turned out to be my savior tonight.”

He gazed back at you, and you felt a flood of emotions you couldn’t explain.

“It’s my pleasure,” he said, “And you’re welcome.”

“Do you need someone to drive you home?” Alice asked, her hands squeezing yours. “Besides, we all have to come to the station anyway. I can ride with you.”

“Oh, but I couldn’t trouble you—”

“It’s okay, I’ll drive the boys to the station while you and Alice run home,” Rosalie said, pointing to her beaming red BMW.

You weren’t surprised that when you arrived at the station your mother was there. She immediately pulled you into her arms, her crushing embrace enough to suck the air out of you.

“My baby!” she cried, holding your cheeks. “What would I do if something ever happened to you! I should’ve put you in those jujitsu classes like you asked last year. I’m so sorry I put you in this terrible situation!”

You shook your head and pried her off of you. “Mom, Mom! It’s okay, I’m alright. Jasper and his siblings handled the situation just fine. Please calm down.”

Beside her, you realized Dr. Cullen and his wife stood by their children. They appeared to be such a charming family, but it was strange how they all had the same amber colored eyes though they were not all related.

“Jasper, I should reward you handsomely for this! That’s it, I’m ending my shift early. You all can come to our house . . .it’s about time we tell the news to Y/N anyway.”

“Y/N,” Dr. Cullen said, extending his hand, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

‘Finally,’ you wondered. “And you as well. Mom talks about you quite a bit at home.”

Esme hugged your shoulders just as tightly as your mother did. She smelled very good, like warm citrus and berries. “I’m glad you’re okay, sweetheart. If you ever need to talk, we’re here for you.”

You finished the police report, and everybody climbed in their cars headed home. What news your mother had in store for you, you had no idea. But no matter how much you begged her to tell you, she wouldn’t tell you.

Your mom ordered pizza—a meal just for you since the Cullens declined and she wasn’t going to eat anyhow—and you sat quietly at the dining room table. It was all so awkward considering you were the only one eating and since it had not been long since you were literally assaulted.

Jasper sat quietly at the other end of the table, his eyes trained on the vase of flowers on the center of the table. You really wanted to tell him your appreciation in private, but since your departure at the car, he had not made eye contact with you.

They made conversation quietly, but it all felt like meaningless hum in the grand scheme of things. Perhaps they were waiting on you to say something first.

“So. . .what is it that you wanted to tell me?” you asked your mom, biting the inside of your cheek. You hoped it wasn’t anything bad, you weren't sure if you could handle anything else.

Your mom smiled reassuringly. “I know you’re probably freaking out, but I promise, it’s nothing to worry about. You know how you’ve always wanted to have siblings or cousins of your own?”

You gasped, rising from your chair. “Are you finally adopting again!”

Everybody at the table laughed. She shook her head.

“No, even better. The truth is, I actually have a family you’ve never met before.”

Your brows scrunched together. “Really? Who are they? And I mean, why haven’t we ever met them?”

She sighed. “Well, the reason is quite complicated. I’ll tell you about that later. But the thing is—Carlisle is my younger brother.”

“Wait what?!” you shouted. “He’s your what?!”

“That’s right,” he grinned, “Carmine’s my sister. So I guess, in a way, that makes me your uncle.”

“Wow,” you breathed, “So you’re my adoptive mom’s brother who has adopted kids who are my adopted cousins.”

Everybody again laughed at your reaction. Your cheeks were hot with embarrassment, but for some reason, you didn’t seem as tense as you were before. You got up to hug all of the Cullens—your new family. You finally had people and loved ones to call your own; people you could trust and stood up for you when you couldn’t stand up for yourself.

When you finally got to Jasper, your heart rate soared. How lucky you were to have such an intelligent, kind, and strong person in your life! But secretly, there was a twinge of regret inside you. This feeling you felt for him—it was a crush. Cousins weren’t allowed to have crushed on each other.

“Something the matter?” he teased with a little smirk.

“Of course not I—”

He gently wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in close. He was cold and firm like a giant teddy bear left untouched on a bed. You wanted to hold him tighter and transfer your warmth to him, but just as quickly as you had the thought, the hug finished.

“We have so much to talk about!” Alice exclaimed. “You’re into the vintage aesthetics, aren’t you? There’s a lovely red dress I’ve been saving in my closet specifically for you!”

And with that, Rosalie and Alice whisked you away upstairs where you three began a wonderful, life-long friendship.

Okay but mad Jasper is a vibe.

Part One Part Three Part Four

#jasper hale #jasper hale imagines #jasper hale x reader #twilight imagines #Twilight x reader #carlisle cullen #edward cullen #esme cullen #rosalie hale #alice cullen #emmett cullen #the cullens #yeehaw mah bois

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etraytin · 4 years

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Quarantine, Day 227

October 24 Gonna make this a quickie because I have squandered my evening listening to old episodes of Oh No, Ross and Carrie, which was very entertaining but entirely unproductive and now it's like two in the morning and I am still hanging out on the couch with the ubiquitous bag of Takis. The kiddo ate an entirely unreasonable amount of candy before bed, so he didn't end up sleeping until nearly midnight, but he's sleeping now, and husband and even the cat are all sleeping, and right now the house is mine. I love my guys very, very much, but I have gotten used to spending some portion of most days at home on my own, and it has been very weird to get used to having everyone around all the time. This nighttime quiet is nice, so long as it doesn't ruin my ability to be awake in the morning. Today I had promised my friend from TNR group that I would help her lay some gravel in her alley. She runs one of our recovery rooms, which are places where we bring trapped cats until they get into the spay/neuter clinic, and where they come after the surgery so they can be watched until we're sure they're ready to go. The person in charge of the recovery room has to keep an eye on the cats, feed and water them, make sure the temperature doesn't get too extreme, point out cats who are friendly and not feral, etc. It's a very big and important job, and we only have three people to do it. This friend, P, has sort of the central recovery room where we also store tools and supplies, so her garage is a critical hub for our TNR program, but the only access to it is down a long dirt alley lined with houses and dotted with potholes. It's bumpy at the best of times, and downright hazardous during bad weather. The city didn't do anything to fix the alley, so P and her neighbor, who happens to be a buff young guy with a pickup truck, collaborated on a solution. She paid for a load of gravel, he provided the truck and muscle to get it to the alley. P asked the folks on the TNR team to come out and help actually fill the potholes. Most of the team was busy, but I haven't been doing much for the team lately so I said I would. It ended up being P, her neighbor, me, and one of our TNR drivers, L, who does not trap but brings cats to and from the spay/neuter clinic. It was hard work and my arms are going to be very sore tomorrow, but between the four of us we did manage to lay down an entire pickup-load of gravel and fill in the worst of the potholes. This is going to make our lives much easier as the days grow shorter and the weather gets worse. Gravel took up the whole morning, but that was okay because Husband took Kiddo to the thrift store and they had a good time there. Kiddo needed to get costume pieces so he could come up with a costume for Trunk or Treat this evening. He didn't get anything there, but he decided that what he really wanted to be was a D&D sorceror. He put on the long silver cape MIL sent him, a cool mystical-looking kaleidoscope pendant of mine, and carried the D&D third edition as a shield and a pencil for a wand. It was a very clever costume, and luckily we were trunk or treating at the Presbyterian church and not a church who would freak out about that sort of thing. Trunk or treat was fun, and as safe as this sort of thing could reasonably be. We had to sign up ahead of time online so there would never be too many families doing the circuit at once, and there was a waiting space where we could hang out until it was our turn. The cars were spaced way out, so we could go around the outside of a big crescent and get candy, then return on the inside to play games. There was also a petting zoo which was very funny because the animals were spaced six feet apart, two goats, a donkey, a calf, an alpaca, etc, all in a line, and then little pens with tiny chickens, a duck, a piglet and some turtles. That was pretty fun too. We decided not to do the hayride because only two families could ride at once and there was quite a line, but we had a good time.

On the way home, we passed our nearest neighbor church, a Baptist church where we trunk or treated last year. They were having theirs today as well, and it looked basically exactly the same as last year's. Hardly any masks, no social distancing, crowds and clots of people everywhere. I think that illustrates a fundamental difference between Baptists and Presbyterians, and also why I will never again belong to a Baptist church. I heard from my mom that their church, the one I grew up in, has had to pivot to online services because eight staff members and eight members of the congregation tested positive for COVID-19 last week. I am sad that anybody get the virus, but at the same time, what did they fucking expect? They don't even wear masks in their services, and that's why my folks still haven't gone back in person. Don't ask God to protect you from your fecklessness, use the brains God gave you and take some basic safety precautions. It's not that complicated! Anyway, we came home and the kiddo ate most of his candy right away while we were distracted, so he never ever ever wanted to sleep and kept texting me about how he was not sleeping yet. Luckily tomorrow is Sunday and we can all sleep in a little.

#quarantine #trunk or treat #tnr #this was not actually a quickie so sorry

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jojoreadwhat · 4 years

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i didn't get much sleep last night, but that's alright. / honey & smoke - m.h. x OFC story

Warning: Drug use.

Lucy's POV.

The hem of my grey sweater roused above my skirt when I outstretched my arm. Placing a hardback onto the top shelf of the book case. The light dust dancing against the sun peering from the large windows.

It was a sunny Saturday morning at the library, restocking shelves and taking in the serenity of a now typical weekend for me. Watching a variation of students spending their time during my cover. I couldn't complain as the nostalgic thoughts of being back in New York came waltzing into my mind.

I had another thing invading my mind in the process. The recurrence of events from a few days ago.

When I kissed Matty.

I. With my own gut and feelings. Kissed Matty without him knowing it would happen. Took the plunge and not caring if would lead to good or bad. Believe it or not, it took a better turn than I had anticipated when his lips moved along with mine shortly after the big move. And I still seen him the next day. I've been containing the excitement and relief until now while I restocked books. Still feeling the lingering tingle that grazed my lips whenever I thought about it. Leaving a small smirk planted on my face.

"Someone is happy today." Matilda comment startling me from my thoughts. I nodded, "Yeah, I was just thinking about a joke told yesterday." Fibbing through my teeth, but she knew that it wasn't that in the slightest. "Mhmm," She replied, taking clipboard of the list of check outs placed back on the shelf. I realized her presence meant I'd be clocking soon.

Sooner than later, actually.

"Well I'm here and there's only a few students now studying." She announced, making a new pile of books. "You can head out earlier than scheduled."

I didn't waste time.Before leaving UNI I stopped by the school's cafe to see it had closed 20 minutes before. Defeated and feening for another coffee. I knew of nothing close, which gave me a good reason to head to the tube and into the city.

When I had stepped onto the platform and walked up the stairs from the underground. I was greeted with the sun and the rush of the weekenders. The same crazy amount of people that New York would've had on a day like this. Busy enjoying the day venturing the city but in different aspects architecturally and minus all the bright boards.

I pulled out my phone for a second to lead me to the nearest bookstore from where I stood. The first one listed was independently owned and had a small coffee shop inside. All traded and used books, I was completely floored and cozy here. I sat in one of the aisles, reading some Walt Whitman material, as recommended.

Spending majority of my afternoon in First Chapter Books. Weaving in and out of the other genres they offered. Soon my visit came to a close after two coffees and a mint edition purchase.

I took advantage of the time I had left, finding another coffee shop but for a bagel this time.. and another coffee of course. I then found myself in One World Thrift, trying on a few knit sweaters. Finding a cute backpack that had pretty embroidered florals all over it. The employee working there was so much help, bringing me more sweaters and wouldn't stop complimenting my scarf.

I was now heading back to the tube when I seen a sign above that read 'Rocket Records' shrugging to myself that one more store wouldn't hurt.

When I entered the place, it echoed sounds of earlier Death Cab For Cutie. It was dressed head to toe with records and posters along the walls. With a huge island of crates holding more records down the center of the room. Watching some people going through them. I was soon greeted from the counter before I moved further into the place and to the alternative section.

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

Matty's POV.

I hate getting stuck with backroom duties. Sorting out the new shipment we received earlier this morning. Watching all the cheesy new upcoming groups making their ways to our shelves. For all the hipster, Instagram obsessed teenagers could come in. Taking snap shots without buying and messing up our conversions. Sounds a bit narcissistic for being in a band that could hit shelves like these. I just always had my judgments of hitting it 'big' I guess.

Humming along to what the boss had playing and tagging everything. I was starting a new pile when Jimmy came in and asked if I could cover the front. I brought out what I had done so far, lots of restocks of yesterday's new releases. The place only had about four people nearby, two sets of couples.. until I spotted the one I couldn't stop thinking about.

Lucy was looking through the back. One hand occupied by a record she was reading, the other holding little bags. I smiled as I watched her cross her stocking covered ankles before she moved along.

"That's their best." I commented, watching her shoulders jolt from startling her. She looked over at me, before setting down the record. "A fan?" She replied, then. Turning to face me now, I shrugged at her question first, "Some what, but that's probably my favorite by far."

She nodded, taking into consideration the note. "What brings you here?" She asked, I chuckled. Waving the tag gun, watching her cheeks grow red. "I could ask the same." Smirking at her naivety.

We got to talking a little bit, she asked about how the day was going. Telling her how Jimmy was being a bloke and I couldn't help but smile as she chuckled at the nickname. She walked with me as I continued to tag a few more things, telling me about her findings and adventures. Soon it grew silent for a moment, but I could tell something was on her tip of her tongue.

"What are you doing later?" She asked, looking at the time on her watch before back at me. "I don't know," I replied, pausing from my work. "What did you have in mind?"

This was completely different coming from Lucy. I could tell she was a bit nervous about it, reading her face as she thought about it. It was adorable.

"Why don't you stop by? I could order a pizza, we could watch a movie?" She suggested, then. Searching my face for relief, I smiled. "Sounds perfect." I replied, "I'll see you around 7?" Making sure the timing was right.

Shortly then, Jimmy was asking for my assistance, but she nodded in time, "Okay." before I excused myself and I kissed her cheek.

Jimmy was trying to get me to stay late even with opening this morning. There was no way in hell. Luckily I fought that and was able to grab a pizza and wine before heading to Lucy's.

When I pulled up to her house, the windows were dark except for one upstairs.

Me: "Hey, still up for company and pizza?"

I texted Lucy, seeing that her phone must've went off when I seen a shadow pass the window.

Blue: "Of course, what's up?" She double texted, then.

Me: "Cool, cause the pizza is getting cold and so am I" I wrote back as I stood at her door. Hearing the commotion of her coming down the stairs and the locks clicking.

"Hey, I thought I was buying pizza?" She questioned, I shrugged. "I made a nice commission today. It's my treat" I explained, then. "I also brought wine." She just shook her head, "You and your wine." She stated, taking the bag off the box and moving to let me in.

I followed Lucy up the steps, Her long cardigan swaying with every bounce made onto the cricking wood. Little ways down the hall leading us to a door with a big Nirvana poster covering it.

"Sorry it's a bit messy." She announced before she opened and led me in.

Lucy had turned down the music from her turntable, placing the bag of wine on her nightstand before turning towards me. Her purple long cardigan hanging loosely against her small frame. Tightly bounded by her grey cami that exposed her new feather tattoo along her left collarbone.

I silently asked where to place the box before the curves of her black covered legs in tights began to fold under her on the bed. "Right here is fine." She smiled, taking the box from my hands as I followed suit. Kicking off my shoes and sitting pretzel legged across from her.

We ate a few slices among each other, taking subtle glances and smiling from time to time. I'd chuckle whenever she lost the running cheese that didn't want to stay on her slice. Watching her pick up with her fingers and savor it.

Afterwards, I stood up to open the bottle of wine. Taking a swig before I handed it to Lu. Fishing my pockets for my pack of fags with a few spliffs I saved.

Lucy was flipping the record, "Mind if I smoke?" Gesturing I'd open a window first. She shook her head before she took a double look at what I was going to smoke. "Is that a blunt?" She questioned, I nodded. "Is that okay?.." I spoke again.

"Yeah yeah, I was just wondering." She explained before going back to what she was doing. Leading me to believe, she's never smoked before. "Blue?" I said, "Hmm" She hummed.

"Have you ever?" I asked, she looked up at me again. She shook her head. "No, not for any reason. Just never got around to it."

I then brought the spliff to my lips, opening my zippo and lighting it before I took a drag.

"Here," I offered. She looked at me like I was crazy at first, but then took it between her fingers. "I'm not gonna like die or something, am I?" She joked, I just chuckled and shook my head. "It's great, I promise." I replied, watching her placing it on her lips and inhale. Like a natural.

I never thought I'd see Lucy intoxicated but it was the most cutest, most silliest thing (in a good way) I had ever witnessed. Filling the room with her sweet laugh against the smells of our own party. She was playing her favorite records, swaying around the little space she had in her room.

I sat on her bed, smoking a cigarette. Smiling, watching as she enjoyed herself. She caught me staring, smirking a bit before she moved closer till she stood in front of me. Her soft fingers placing themselves close to my lips. As she grabbed the cigarette hanging from them. Kissing them softly after.

I looked up at her and watched as she took a drag. Her lips puckered around the filter and her closed as she inhale. Admiring the smoke in eyes as she exhaled, my favorite thing of the night. Before she looked back down at me.

"Are you having a good time?" I asked, then. She nodded, placing the cigarette back on my lips. I took another drag before putting in the cup on the nightstand next to us.

When I brought my attention back, I noticed the pretty sparkle from the red ruby she wears everyday. Hanging against her pale complexion. I felt her watching me as my hand grazed her skin and I brought the pendant closer to see.

"This is beautiful." I commented, her reach over mine gently. "It was my mother's" She stated, the past pretense caught me off guard and I felt terrible. I looked back up at her, "I'm so sorry." I insisted, quietly. She just smiled, running her hand through my hair. "It's okay. It's kind of a long story, I'll explain it eventually." She went on, still smiling soft.

"Just first, dance with me." She said, then. The substances still inebriating her sense. I stood up towering over her as I moved her hands around my neck and mine met her waist.

Donna Lewis' "I Love You Always Forever" began playing throughout her room. We danced slow, my body molding into hers as she hugged me and brought her head to my chest. Continuing to sway and smell the lavender scent of her hair. It left us in a comfortable silence again, my mind wasn't so silent as we danced. I began to worry about where this would lead and how it would go. I wasn't scared but at the same time, I was. I had a reputation for ruining things, treating any opportunity of relationships like phases.

But as I thought about it, overthinking as any worrier does. I realized there wasn't anything to worry about. Specially when she looked at me the way she did.

"Matty?" She spoke up, softly. Bringing me back to the moment. We were still swaying, "hmm" I replied, then. Pausing as she adjusted herself to look up at me.

"Stay."

#the 1975 fanfiction #matty healy imagines #slutforbritdick #wattpadarchives

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lpdwillwrite4coffee · 4 years

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Hi. I’m about to do the adult thing of moving out and into the world on my own. I’ve lived in the same house my whole life so I’ve never done this before and me moving out is not under the best circumstances. As someone who has completed this adult task do you have any tips on the actual task of moving? What was one mistake you made or a few things that really made the process easier? Wether is logistically or emotionally because I’m a little scared.

Hi Anon! Firstly, let me say I totally understand your fear and trepidation, and I’m sorry your moving out isn’t a more celebratory event and is under tense circumstances. That said, boy oh boy do I have some hints and tricks.

I’m not sure what your timeline is, but definitely start packing *now*. Don’t leave it all for 2 or even 3 days. Give yourself a week or longer to take it bit by bit. That also gives you time to gather up boxes, suitcases, and packing materials (stuff I ended up having to beg off from friends and coworkers).

Downsize as much as you can, and then downsize some more. Marie Condo the shit outta your stuff. Does that half used tube of neosporin bring you joy? No of course it doesn’t, toss it out. Get rid of bulky, heavy things that we tend to hoard, like magazines, papers, notebooks, etc. You’re not gonna care about your freshman year history final, I promise you. Toss it. It also helps in packing and also in settling into your new place. You’re not gonna have a good time nesting in your new home while standing in the middle of your living room like “where the fuck am I supposed to put all these 2006 Teen Vogues???”

If you can, get a realtor. If not, tap your most meticulous, type A friend to help you house/apartment hunt. They think of everything. What’s the security deposit? Can you have pets? Do they take care of the snow removal or is that your responsibility? Are you able to paint or decorate the apartment? Is there an HOA? What about neighborhood watch? Where’s the nearest fire department, school, police station, post office, grocery store, liquor store (it’s important, I swear), hardware store? Your neighbors look like the cast of Sons of Anarchy, maybe that’s not so great. Etc, etc, etc. Don’t put it all on you to think of every single thing. Plus, the emotional support is invaluable. Moving is stressful, don’t go it alone.

If you’re moving out of state, look into a small UHAUL or pod container that gets shipped to your new home once you move. I used a pod and it was EXPENSIVE AF, and honestly I had a really hard time with their customer service as well as them basically lying about the costs, BUT it was great for my situation because I wasn’t able to move into my new home for 2 months, and I was living in a hotel. I had no where to put my things, so the storage element was super helpful. If you’re just moving down the street or within state to a different city, stick to the much more cost effective UHAUL daily rentals or a helpful friend with a pick up truck or SUV.

Emotionally speaking, be easy with yourself. You’re making a huge change and it’s going to bring up a lot of emotions. A LOT. There’s grief, stress, bitterness, loneliness, frustration, the constant internal yelling of “WHY AM I DOING THIS TO MYSELF??!!” Take breaks, cry when you need to, and don’t berate yourself for feeling what you feel. Since you’re moving from the only home you’ve known, you’re gonna be on a roller coaster of this for a while, so just accept that things are going to be haywire. Don’t fight it. Lean in. Also don’t let anyone brush you off or try to make you feel silly for having a strong reaction to moving. IT’S A HUGE DEAL THAT NO ONE TALKS ABOUT. We think about marriage and graduations as huge milestones, but establishing your own home *on your own* is (in my opinion) a much bigger deal. And you’re a bad ass for moving out and making your own home in the world.

Also on the emotional side, treat this as your leveling up. You’re becoming a BOSS. You’re taking charge of your life, your shelter-- a biological need hardwired into our monkey brains. This is huge and scary and uncharted territory. You’re doing something amazing, and you can even choose to see this as a symbolic rebirth if you really want to get woo-woo with it. You’re welcoming in great things with a clean, fresh, first and last months rent slate and it’s your time to make this stage of your life whatever you want it to be.

Other random things that are helpful: *Check your new neighborhood’s Free Stuff facebook and craigslist pages. People throw away some pretty great stuff just cuz they’re getting new things, and it’ll help save in household wares and furniture costs. Also find a good thrift store near by, you never know what you’ll find there. *Don’t be afraid to ask friends or co workers for advice/help. People LOOOVE helping. It’s another biological need-- to be needed. If you’ve got someone you like at the office who seems to have their shit together, casually drop in that you’re moving and unsure about what to do or that you need boxes/a UHAUL/a roommate/ whatever. You’d be surprised by how many people will WANT to help you. *If you have pets you’re moving with, make sure to bring everything that has their scent and yours (bedding, toys, etc) and their favorite foods and treats to help them settle into the new digs. My dog handles things pretty well as long as I’m there, but I know a lot of pets can be hella nervous.

Sorry this is so long!! I hope this helps, and if I think of anything else, I’ll reblog and add more to it! Good luck with your move! You’re gonna do great. I’m cheering for you and also wishing you the luck of never running out of packing tape. <333

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fresh-outta-jams · 5 years

Text

Plastic Heart - Part 11

Namjoon x Reader Author: Mo Summary: When you get the highly-anticipated BTS dolls for Christmas, your life takes a turn in a way you never could have expected. Note: All aboard the fluff train! CHOO CHOO! I’m so glad you guys are liking this series so far. It makes me really happy to write it, but it makes me even happier to hear from you!! So be sure to let me know what you think in our inbox or in the replies!! Warnings: None? Word Count: 2.3k

Prologue, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

After making a trip to your local grocery store to pick up all of the hygiene products Namjoon would need, you pulled into the parking lot of the nearest thrift store. There was no reason to spend a ton of money buying him a whole new wardrobe when the thrift store had a deal that allowed you to buy clothes for $5 a bag. It was a steal. And in your circumstances, it was a very valuable one.

“Pick whatever you like. Today is all about you.” You told him.

“All about me, huh?”

“Well, I figured...you know, after this we could go to the mall? Give you the full human experience. We don’t have to if you don’t want to, though. It’s all up to you.”

“I’d love to go to the mall. I’ve always wanted to, you know?”

“I thought you might say that, yeah.” You smiled. Once you were in the front doors, you led Namjoon over to the men’s section and set him free while you went to look through the shoes to find something he’d like. He’d definitely need some walking shoes, maybe some slides if you could find some that would fit him. Once you found a few pairs you thought he’d like, you walked over to him.

“Shoes?”

“Yeah, I don’t know if you like any of these. If not, I can go look for more. You should try them on first, though, to make sure they fit.”

“Thank you.” He smiled, taking the pairs from you and walking over to the little bench to try them on. He picked the ones he liked and then you moved on, helping him sort through the sweatshirts. It was still pretty cold outside, so he was going to need warm things. You could get him more t-shirts once it started to get warmer. Speaking of cold weather, he’d need boots and a coat, too.

“(Y/N)?”

“Hmm?”

“Isn’t this your college?” Namjoon held up a sweatshirt with your college’s logo on it.

“Yeah, it is!”

“Well then, it’s DEFINITELY going in the bag.” He grinned, flashing those adorable dimples of his. You just about swooned on the spot. God, this was going to be harder than you thought it would be. One of your best friends was a living breathing clone of your ult bias. And now, he was your roommate too. You were beginning to feel like you were living in a fanfiction…

The two of you searched the racks for a while longer, picking out shirts and jeans and some sweats for him. You found him a warm winter coat that fit him right and some boots that would get him through the rest of the snowy season, and then you checked out.

“That’ll be $20.” The lady told you, and Namjoon’s jaw dropped. You handed over a twenty dollar bill, and then he helped you get the bags to the car.

“Twenty dollars! That’s crazy! For all this stuff?!”

You opened the tailgate and moved some stuff around so you could cram all the bags into the open space.

“It’s a thrift store; stuff here is usually pretty cheap, even if it’s in really good condition.”

“You know, I think your aunt spent $20 on ME.” Namjoon shook his head, chuckling to himself. Yesterday, that would have been an almost normal-ish sentence for him to have uttered, but today...things were different. “God, that’s weird to think about.”

“It is, isn’t it?” You looked up at him for a second. It was easy to forget that the handsome man standing in front of you had been a doll only mere hours ago. Now, he was this living, breathing person with just about the warmest smile you’d ever seen. “Where to next, Joon?”

“The mall.”

“To the mall!” You declared, reaching up to close the tailgate before walking back around to the driver’s door. About thirty minutes later, you arrived, parking in the lot nearest to the movie theater and the food court. Namjoon looked up at the tall building with awe in his brown eyes. He didn’t know a building could be this big, and it was only a few stories tall.

“Woah…” He murmured, following you to the glass doors that slid open automatically when you got close enough to them. “Woah!”

“Crazy out here, isn’t it?” You smiled as you watched him navigate this giant new world. He looked up at the second floor from your spot in the center of the bottom floor. Four long halls spread out in every direction, and you were standing in the heart of it all as shoppers walked every which way. Namjoon was sure he’d never seen so many people in the same place before.

“Yeah...Crazy…”

You weren’t really sure where to start, so you led him down one of the hallways towards Hot Topic so you could show him the BT21 stuff. At some point, you turned to talk to him, to tell him something, and he just...wasn’t next to you.

“Namjoon?” You looked on both sides of you, stopping in your tracks in the busy mall. “Joonie? Joonie!” You looked in front of you and behind you and you couldn’t spot him. You stood on your toes to look through the river of people. He was tall! It shouldn’t have been that hard to find him! “Namjoon!!”

And then, finally, you spotted him about thirty feet back, looking around for you with wide eyes. He reached up and fluffed his hair, panic settling onto his handsome features. He’d only been in the mall for what, five minutes? And ALREADY he’d lost you? He didn’t even have a phone, so he couldn’t call you. Oh God, what was he supposed to do if he couldn’t find you? Where would he go? He didn’t have a place to stay. He’d have to sleep outside on some bench until he could figure his way back to your apartment and--oh, there you were.

As soon as you spotted him, you ran back to him, wrapping your arms around him tightly as the fear slowly seeped out of you. “Oh my God, I thought I lost you.” You exhaled, heart racing as you found refuge in his arms.

“I thought I lost YOU.” He admitted, still shaking a bit, if he was being honest. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wander off, I just--”

“I know you didn’t mean to, Joon. I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention. I just...looked over and you weren’t there.”

Namjoon exhaled a shaking breath, letting you hold him. It felt good, he decided, to be held. In fact, he was sure he’d never get over how good it felt. “I’ll try not to let it happen again. I promise.”

“Well, just to make sure we don’t lose each other…” You slipped your hand into his, your small fingers intertwining with his. You have his hand a tight squeeze. “There.”

Namjoon was sure his new heart was trying to claw its way out of his ribcage. You were holding his hand. You were HOLDING his HAND!!! He could have about exploded on the spot, but instead, he played it cool. Totally cool. He was definitely not flustered at all.

“P-perfect!” He could have about slapped himself for stuttering. But, nonetheless, the two of you walked to Hot Topic together, hand in hand. Your thumb started tracing absent-minded circles against the back of his hand and he felt his heart flutter in his chest.

You showed him all of the adorable BT21 stuff, explaining that BTS had designed all of the characters, and each member had created one of them. Even before you told him which one RM designed, you caught his eyes lingering on Koya. He felt a certain pull towards the little blue koala, and he couldn’t explain why. You saw the look on his face, the way his eyes wouldn’t leave the cute little plushie, and you pulled him aside.

“Okay, you’re going to have to educate me on this ‘toys coming to life thing’, but you definitely look like you want to adopt a Koya.” You spoke softly. “But that’s obviously your choice. You know more about this than I do.”

Namjoon’s expression softened and he glanced over your shoulder at the BT21 rack, looking at the little koala. Then, very quietly, he asked, “Could we?”

“If you want to.”

He thought about it for a second. Obviously, you buying a BT21 plushie would have been a no-brainer for you before you knew their secret. In fact, he was surprised you didn’t already have all seven. But now...things were a bit different. Whether he liked it or not, Namjoon had opened your eyes to this world around you, where toys weren’t just toys anymore. That said, he felt something deep inside him when he looked at Koya, something he could only describe as paternal instincts. It couldn’t be any coincidence that RM had designed the cuddly little guy.

“I do want to.” He nodded, his hand tight in yours as he walked back over to the BT21 display and picked up the box that was housing his little friend. You led him to the cashier and he set Koya on the counter carefully.

“Oh, are you into BTS?” The employee who was ringing you up asked. Her hair was dyed purple and she had a nose ring. You caught sight of a couple of BTS pins on her lanyard.

“Yeah, I am.” You nodded, smiling softly and praying that she wouldn’t mistake your Namjoon for...the other Namjoon. “Who’s your bias?”

“Jimin.” She blushed. “Yours?”

“Namjoon.” You squeezed his hand when you said it, hoping that he would realize you...weren’t talking about RM anymore. He definitely got the message, hiding his reddening cheeks behind a large hand and grinning bashfully.

“Your boyfriend really looks like him.” The girl commented, looking at Namjoon, but not reading too much into it.

“I get that a lot, thanks.” As if his face wasn’t red enough before, the cashier calling him your boyfriend had been the icing on the cake, making his knees feel even more like Jello than they already did.

“I think it’s the dimples.” You agreed, reaching up to pinch Namjoon’s adorably red cheek. He nearly combusted under your gentle affection. He knew he’d never get enough of this. You were everything he’d ever wanted, and now that he almost had you, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to take that next step.

Once you paid for Koya, you slipped your hand back into Namjoon’s and the two of you walked back towards the middle of the mall. “Where else do you want to go?”

“Is there a bookstore here?” He asked, looking around.

You nodded. “Yeah, there’s a really big Barnes & Noble upstairs. We can take the escalators.”

“The WHAT?”

You giggled and pulled him along to where the escalators were. You stepped on first and he got on a step after, stumbling forward into you. Up a whole step higher than him, you were finally about at his eye level, his face inches from yours due to his misstep.

“S-sorry…” He whispered, his warm breath ghosting across your cheeks.

“‘S okay.” You exhaled, carefully stepping off once you got to the top. You helped him off after and led him to the bookstore. As soon as you got there, he started looking around with childlike joy, perusing the various titles, picking them up to read the blurbs on the backs of them. You looked too, casually searching through the YA Fantasy stuff. You hadn’t even noticed that Namjoon’s arm had settled around your shoulders, nor that you had snuggled into his side until you looked up and found that he was so close.

“Oh!” He withdrew, scared of overstepping a boundary that didn’t exist. “Sorry. I didn’t realize--”

“You’re so warm…” You murmured wistfully, snapping out of it quickly, though. “Uh, did you, uh, find anything you like?”

“This one.” Namjoon showed you the paperback copy of To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. “I mean, I loved the movie, so I can only assume the book is good too.”

“Right, of course.” You nodded, hugging the little stack of books you’d found to your chest. With your free arm, you took Namjoon’s large hand and led him over to the counter to check out. There was a little bit of a line, and as you were standing in it, you heard Namjoon’s stomach growl and looked at him, amused, as he stared down at his rumbling abdomen in horror.

“What was that? Am I gonna die?” He asked you softly, using one hand to rub over his tummy slowly.

“You’re not gonna die, Joon, you’re just hungry. We’ll get some food after we check out. The food court is really close.”

“Oh. Okay.” He chuckled at his fear, shaking his head. To be fair, he’d never been hungry before. “Sorry. I know I’m new to this, but I feel so stupid--”

“You aren’t stupid.” You stated firmly. “Until this morning, you didn’t even have a stomach. No one expects you to know how it works yet.”

“You’re right.” He nodded, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “You always seem to be right.”

“Well, someone’s gotta keep your head on straight.”

Taking a leap of faith, his heart hammering too loud for him to think, Namjoon leaned down and softly pressed his lips to your cheek before saying quietly, “I’m glad that someone is you.”

Tagged: @iie-wakarimasen, @lilgaga98, @catbugsugarpea, @demonic-meatball, @backtonormalthings, @kbowen9, @honig-bienchen, @coolcat494, @ffantasylandd, @feed-my-geek-soul, @ayoo-bangtan, @xxqueenwxtchxx, @cap-lu20, @finninpoposu, @coldbookworm, @sitkafay, @daniawinchesters21, @okaysoplshelpme, @zamirayinyue13

#kpopwonderlandtag #btsprotectnet #armyofwriters #namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon imagine #namjoon fluff #rm #rm imagine #rm x reader #rm fluff #bts imagine #disney au #toy story au

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birdiethebibliophile · 5 years

Text

Just a quick college AU inspired by @losebetter‘s Fjord fanart that was Just Exactly Right. Started like a month ago and finished real quick this morning because I have two weeks left of grad school and that feels like a lot right now.

CW for mentions of mental health struggles but otherwise completely G.

Important things about this AU:

- Jester, Beau, Caduceus, and Nott are all freshmen

- Caleb’s the one upperclassman who stayed in the residence halls because he got a scholarship that covers room and board

- Fjord is their RA who’s very bad at being an RA (he tries…) and has had to write Jester up for noise violations about five times. Jester always apologizes and promptly forgets about the quiet hours rules again

- Beau and Jester have been dating since week two of the first semester, when Jester decided that she did not, in fact, have a crush on the cute RA and instead had a crush on her roommate

- Caleb does, in fact, have a crush on the cute RA

- Said cute RA also has a crush on Caleb but is determined to not let him know about it because that’s Not Allowed, RAs dating residents, so they’re just pining until Caleb at LEAST moves out of Fjord’s floor

- Nott’s Caleb’s roommate and reminds him that he gets free meals on campus so there’s absolutely no reason to not eat

- Caduceus has the single at the end. Well, it’s not actually a single, but his roommate Yasha is never around, so he’s mostly just filled her side of the room with potted plants

-----

Beau had her calculus notes spread out over an entire table and was doing chin-ups on the balcony of the residence hall lounge when Fjord walked in and set his laptop down on her scribbled algorithms. It was two in the morning the Friday before finals, and everyone was barely holding it together. Caleb was hunched over a linguistics textbook in one corner of the room, Jester was fast asleep and clutching her Ikea shark in another, and various freshmen had been stumbling in and out all night, telling each other that really, it was one semester, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if they failed a few tests.

“What’re you doing up?” Beau said, pulling herself back onto the balcony and into the room, closing the door behind her after seeing Jester shiver from the cool May breeze. “You on duty?”

“Nah,” Fjord said, pulling down the screen over one wall and blowing dust off the old-fashioned projector that always seemed to end up back in this room. “Just figured everyone needed a break from studying, including me.” He opened his laptop up and plugged it into the projector.

“I dunno about everyone else, but yeah, I sure do,” Beau said, flinging herself into the nearest armchair that wasn’t occupied. “Jes passed out about an hour ago in the middle of quizzing Nott on chemistry terms, so Nott ran out to get her some hot chocolate. She should be back soon.”

Fjord snapped his fingers. “That’s what I forgot. Okay, just a mo’.” As the projector hummed to complaining life, he opened Crunchyroll and pulled up an episode of Dragon Ball Z.

“Can you do Naruto instead?” Beau put in.

Fjord grinned at her. “Not this time. It’s a DBZ kind of night. Be right back. Tell Caleb that he should get his head out of his book for a few minutes.”

Beau sighed audibly and rolled her eyes, but once Fjord left the room, she started nudging Caleb. “Dude. Hey, dude. Time to take a break.”

Caleb looked up, his eyes taking a few seconds to focus. “Beauregard?”

“Fjord’s throwing an anime party in the middle of the night like the madman he is,” Beau said. “He told me to get you in on it.”

Caleb blinked up at the projector. “I suppose I have a few minutes,” he said, closing his textbook. “Do you know where Nott went?”

“She was going to make a convenience store run, I think,” Beau said.

“Did you tell her to get me more peach rings?” Caleb said hopefully.

“Dude, you’re going to turn orange if you eat any more of those things,” Beau said. “This is health advice from me, who once didn’t eat a vegetable for a week straight, so you should listen.”

“Beau?” Jester said sleepily, hugging her shark tighter. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“Nothing, Jes, Fjord’s just being the kind and caring soul he is,” Beau said promptly.

Her girlfriend sat up and rubbed her eyes. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she said. “I was helping Nott.”

“Nott went out on a supply run, don’t worry about it,” Beau said. “We’re taking a break, anyway.”

“A cookie break?” Jester said.

“Depends on what Nott gets,” Beau replied.

Jester made her grumpy face – the one that scrunched her nose up and made her look like she had twice as many freckles as she usually did – and gestured Beau to come over. Beau obligingly went and gave her a big hug, at which point Jester shoved her off again. “You’re stinky,” she complained.

“You just think everyone should smell like a candy store all the time,” Beau countered.

“A’ight,” Fjord said as he walked back in, juggling the residence hall kitchen’s electric kettle and entire tea supply, as well as an assortment of mugs that looked like he must’ve raided five different thrift stores to get. “No coffee, Cay. No caffeine for any of you, and I swear, if Nott comes back with any of that shitty 4-hour energy stuff, I’ll –” He stopped as everyone stared at him. “Yeah, she’s right behind me, isn’t she.”

“Yes, she is, and she’d appreciate it if you’d give her a little credit,” Nott’s voice creaked from behind him. She was holding two plastic grocery bags. “I didn’t get Caleb any more coffee, instant or otherwise, and I didn’t get him any energy drinks. There’s studies that those give you heart attacks and Caleb’s heart needs all the help it can get.”

“Oh! Donuts!” Jester squealed as Nott started unloading her bags, including two boxes of powdered donuts. “Nott, you are the beeest, I love you so much, I promise next time you get a cold I won’t be annoyed when you take all my Emergen-C.”

By now, the projector had powered up and started sending a weak signal to the screen on the wall. “Really? Not Naruto?” Nott complained, climbing over the various chairs cluttering the lobby and plopping herself into Caleb’s lap, all pointy limbs and large eyes.

“Why does everyone always want to watch Naruto?” Fjord said, exasperated. “Cay, you want some chamomile?”

“Ja, please,” Caleb says.

Fjord nods and turns the kettle on. “Anyone else?”

“I don’t need tea,” Nott says, ripping open a package of Chips Ahoy. “I have –”

“Nope, nope, RA in the room,” Fjord interrupts. “Whatever you were about to say, I’m probably not allowed to hear it. Jes?”

“Nott brought me hot chocolate,” Jester said, already dumping three hot chocolate packets into one of the mugs. “Deucey would probably like some tea but I think he’s in his room, d’you want me to go see?”

“Nah, don’t want to wake him up, it’s late,” Fjord said.

Beau plopped a teabag of green jasmine in her mug. “Not a word,” she added, jabbing a finger in Fjord’s direction. “Dairon said it’s good for me.”

“Also, you like the taste,” Fjord added.

“Also, I like the taste,” Beau muttered. “But you’re not allowed to tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain.”

“My lips are sealed,” Fjord assured her. “Everyone settled in and comfy?” He looked around the room, where his residents ten minutes ago had been buzzing with nervous energy, even asleep or absent. Now, they were all piled onto the old furniture of the room like they belonged there, clutching mugs and questionable snacks and sleepy eyes fixed on the dim projector screen. Caleb looked up at him and smiled, patting the chair next to him.

Fjord laughed a little and took the offered seat. “You have been working as hard as anyone,” Caleb said, peering at him over the reading glasses still perched on his face. “You can’t care for everyone else if you’re not caring for yourself.”

“Spoken like someone who knows what he’s talking about,” Fjord said, and let himself relax, at least for the moment.

Tomorrow, there would be finals, and patrolling the halls making sure no one was having a breakdown, and Jester would struggle through her history final, and Beau would frantically put the finishing touches on her sports health paper, and Caleb would ace his linguistics test and then go have a panic attack in the bathroom, but now, everyone was safe, and happy, hearts full of anime and bellies full of tea and processed sugar.

Just the way Fjord liked it.

#critfic #cr fic #college au #fjord #critical role #caleb widogast #beau #beauregard #jester #jester lavorre #nott the brave #mine #this is the first thing I've posted in months #god forgive me

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knox-knocks · 5 years

Text

Friendship and Face Masks

read on ao3

“How much longer are we staying?”

“Oh, stop complaining. We’re almost done. Besides, you like shopping.”

“I literally never said that.”

Neil met Allison’s stare head on. For some reason, Allison decided that today would be a good day to go shopping, even though they went last week. Allison’s excuse was that she needed to pick up some clothes she ordered, but that her car was in the shop for the rest of the day and there was no way in hell she was going to ask Andrew for a ride. When Neil pointed out that she could have asked Matt drive her, or even had Nicky take the Maserati since he liked shopping better anyway, Allison had conveniently elected not to hear him.

Now they were standing in between two clothes racks while Allison flicked through the various clothes. Sometimes she’d pick out a shirt for her or size one up against Neil, but mostly she dismissed the various clothes and moved on. Occasionally, she would send Neil away to the dressing room with an outfit thrown into his arms that she would judge and critique mercilessly until she found something that looked “perfect” on Neil.

Neil didn’t necessarily mind shopping with Allison, and he enjoyed spending time with her. The girls’ last year at Palmetto was coming to a close so Neil was trying to spend as much time with them as possible. Renee was already preparing for two years overseas with the Peace Corps, Dan already had a job coaching for a college team lined up in New York, and Allison was getting calls from professional teams every other day now. Sure, there was always holidays to spend together, but the Foxes were all starting to go their separate ways in life and the thought planted a seed of anxiety in Neil’s chest.

But they’d been at the mall for three hours now and Allison just kept dragging him from store to store. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t for the stares. Neil didn’t care about his scars, if anything it was something that set him apart from his father, but that didn’t mean he liked people gawking at him wherever he went.

Neil reached up with one hand and lightly traced the lines of scarring left over from Lola’s knife on his cheek. The damage had been extensive and now it would leave it’s mark forever. Something curdled in Neil’s gut. When Allison caught him with his hand hovering over her his face, she pursed her lips in thought.

“One more store,” she decided. “I just want to grab something and then we can go back to the dorms. I promise.”

Neil nodded, not entirely convinced that they were really only going to one store. But Allison took him by the hand and pulled him through the throngs of people milling around them. It was more crowded today than it was last week. No matter where Neil stepped, there always seemed to be at least one person elbowing their way in his space.

“Why are there so many people?” Neil asked, scanning the stream of shoppers going in the opposite direction. He and Allison both attracted more than a few glances. They made an interesting pair, Neil supposed. A beautiful girl made for the runway tugging along a scarred boy in clothes that could have been found in the nearest thrift shop. (They were.)

“Sales,” Allison replied simply. Neil frowned. He didn’t understand how spending money on more things because they were discounted was any cheaper than not spending any money at all.

Even so, Neil was looking forward to wearing the nice navy-blue shirt and black jeans Allison had picked out for him. He knew Andrew would take a liking to them, and the thought sent a thrill through his body.

In no time, Allison led Neil to a small shop in the corner of the mall. When they walked inside, the sharp smell assaulted Neil’s senses, making him wrinkle his nose and stifle a sneeze. The shelves were lined with various boxes and small packages that Allison gave a cursory glance over.

When she found what she was looking for, Allison dropped Neil’s hand and picked through the items hanging on the stands. She picked out a couple and handed them over for Neil to hold. Then she went back to the shelf and grabbed a couple more.

Neil squinted at the printing on the package. “Face masks?” he asked, peering at the picture of the woman with a white sheet sticking to her face. Various fruit and other ingredients floated around her head, depending on the face mask.

“Yup,” Allison said. “Cucumber or pomegranate?”

“Pomegranate.” Neil caught the pink package Allison chucked at him. So far, she’d picked out honey and pomegranate sheet masks, and, making Neil balk, a charcoal peel-off mask. “Does the peel-off mask peel off your skin?”

Allison sighed. “Oh, Neil, you sweet innocent child, Neil.”

Neil wanted to remind her that nothing about him was innocent, but Allison would have none of that. He gave the charcoal mask one last uncertain glance, and shuffled it to the bottom of the pile.

Allison picked out several more masks before she paid and left with Neil and the face masks in tow. When they were back at the dorm, Allison corralled Neil in the girls’ room where Matt and Dan were sprawled across the couch watching something on Netflix. Allison dropped the rest of her bags by the door and moved Matt’s feet to sit cross-legged on the couch. When she motioned for Neil to follow suit, he perched on the arm of the couch beside her.

“Did you get more masks?” Dan asked, sitting up and reaching for the bag in Allison’s hands. Matt shifted so his head was in Dan’s lap and his legs were tossed over Allison’s.

Allison nodded and doled out the masks, putting aside the extras. When she handed one to Neil, Neil blinked at her in confusion.

“You really thought you could get out of this, Josten? Tough luck.” Allison clicked her nails and tapped the face masks in an obvious order.

Neil stared dubiously but when Allison said nothing more, he turned to Matt for help. Matt shrugged, already tearing into one of the honey sheet-masks. “It’s just skin-care,” he said nonchalantly.

Neil looked down at the pomegranate mask in his hands, at a loss on what to do. He watched Allison as she wiped her makeup away and expertly lined the mask up to her face. Neil tore into the package and slipped the mask out.

He expected it to be sticky, but when he rubbed his fingers together, it was slimy and the juice absorbed into his skin. Neil unfolded the mask and placed it on his face, smoothing it over his scars. Allison and Matt made it look so much easier than it really was. At one point, the juice got in his eye and Neil had to stop himself from rubbing at it.

When Neil didn’t have to fear the mask slipping right off his face, he turned back to the others who, except for Dan, were already done. Matt laughed at the expression on Neil’s face.

“Neil, what’s wrong?” Matt asked, grinning.

“It’s cold,” Neil said, wrinkling his nose. When he talked, he expected the mask to slip right off, but it surprisingly stayed in place. “And slimy.”

Matt laughed again, and Allison and Dan smiled good-naturedly.

“Babe, can you help me?” Dan handed Matt the peel-off mask and Neil watched with morbid fascination as Matt spread the black paste over Dan’s face.

“How long do I have to keep this thing on?” Neil asked, tearing his eyes away from Dan and Matt.

“Fifteen minutes,” Allison replied.

When the time was up, Neil peeled the mask of his face. It felt so weird his lips flicked up in a smile. It was even colder when he took the mask off, but when he started to rub the excess juice into his face with his hands, the warmth felt amazing. He closed his eyes, enjoying the way his fingers massaged into his skin.

“I take it he likes it.”

Neil opened his eyes to see Dan smiling at him. He offered her a tiny smile in return and gave Allison the used face mask when she collected them to throw away. To Neil’s relief, the face mask didn’t look as painful as he thought when Dan peeled it off. He didn’t think he’d like to try one anytime soon, though.

He stayed for the next couple episodes of the show Matt and Dan were watching before he and Allison arrived. Neil had no idea what was going on, but the show wasn’t bad. It might have been something Andrew liked, actually.

When Allison sent him back to his dorm with a couple more face masks and a warning to not use them all at once, Andrew was already waiting for him to get back.

“How was sparring with Renee?” Neil asked.

“How was your date?” Andrew retorted. Neil settled next to him and Andrew offered him a cigarette but Neil declined. Andrew shrugged and put the carton away without lighting one for himself.

“Not a date,” Neil said. “But I did find something I liked, I think.”

Andrew tilted his head in Neil’s direction, a sign that he was listening.

Neil dug the packages out of his pocket and handed them over. Andrew glanced down and quirked an eyebrow. “Face masks?”

“You should try it,” Neil said, only half-joking.

Andrew gave him a bland stare. “You want me to put this on my face.”

“Yeah, that is what you’re supposed to do with a face mask, theoretically.” Neil rolled his eyes. “It makes your skin soft.”

Andrew hummed, unconvinced. Then, slowly, he placed a hand on one of Neil’s cheeks and ran a finger down his face. Neil sat still, not wanting to make Andrew stop. But Andrew did stop, and sighed wearily. When he ripped open one of the packages Neil grinned brightly.

“You’re the worst,” Andrew said without any heat.

“Sure am,” Neil quipped and helped adjust the face mask.

Andrew glared behind the white sheet, making Neil laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Half in appreciation and half in apology, Neil fetched Andrew’s book from the kitchen table and handed it over.

“Keep that on for fifteen minutes,” Neil said on his way back to the kitchen. “I’ll be right back.

Neil grabbed two bowls and loaded them both up with the stew Kevin made before he went to Wymack’s. He warmed it up in the microwave for a couple minutes, and then took out the steaming bowls and placed them on the counter. He pulled two glasses from the pantry and filled one up with orange juice and one with chocolate milk. He balanced the glasses and the bowls in his arms and brought it out to the living room.

He placed the bowls and glasses on the tables and glanced at Andrew. He read for a couple more minutes, probably finishing the chapter because he couldn’t stand leaving off in the middle, before he dog-eared the page and flicked a look at Neil.

“Good?” he said in a dull monotone.

“Good enough,” Neil said, and Andrew peeled the face mask off.

“Now what?” Andrew raised his eyebrows again. “Do I wipe this off or wait for it to dry?”

“Yes or no?” Neil asked instead.

Andrew considered him with a thoughtful frown before nodding once. Neil raised his hands to Andrew’s face, waited to see if his yes turned into a no and gently began to massage the excess juice into Andrew’s face when it didn’t.

Andrew didn’t say anything, didn’t even react at first. But after a couple seconds his eyes closed and he leaned into Neil’s touch. Neil’s triumphant smile faded into something softer, something warmer.

They stayed like that for several minutes, with Andrew’s face cupped in Neil’s hands. Even when all the juice was gone, Neil drawing small circles in Andrew’s cheeks, then moved to his temples. Neil didn’t miss the faint dusting of pink across Andrew’s ears but decided not to mention it.

Only when Neil’s stomach growled did they part, but only far enough to sit pressed side-by-side on the couch. They tucked into their stew, and if Andrew hooked his foot around Neil’s ankle and tapped his fingers appreciatively on Neil’s thigh, well, that was nobody’s business but their own.

#tfc #aftg #the foxhole court #all for the game #neil josten #allison reynolds #matt boyd #dan wilds #andrew minyard #andreil #neilmas2019 #this kinda late but it's still day 2 for me so yeah hkasdja #mine

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