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gogolucky13 · 3 years

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Mile High Club

Summary: You meet Bucky on a plane ride and things escalate quickly. (Modern AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Word count: 2,278

Warnings: Smut (fingering, vaginal penetration). Mild swearing and mention of alcohol consumption. (18+ only please).

A/N: This is my entry for @sunflowerxbarnes 1.5k Meme Writing Challenge. Congrats on the follower milestone, love! My prompt was “Well, that escalated quickly” which is in bold. I’m toying with some ideas for a second part so we’ll see! Also, my tags aren’t working but I said I'd post today so here it is anyways! Hope people like! Enjoy! 😊💜

A groan, frustrated and fed-up, rumbles deep in your throat. The yellow flashing ‘Delayed’ taunting as you stare dumbly at it.

Of course.

Add it to the list of things that have gone wrong thus far since you started your day.

The alarm you set for this morning didn’t go off because your phone died during the night. Apparently the charger wasn’t plugged in. Then, the first Uber you ordered left without warning as you frantically searched your apartment for your wallet. When you finally arrived at the airport, the lovely woman working at the check in desk reluctantly informed your carry-on bag exceeded the weight limitations and needed to be checked.

And now, the flight you need to catch for your sister’s wedding is delayed almost two hours. Just wonderful. It was bad enough you were forced to take a red-eye when your boss ‘accidentally’ forgot to put your time-off request in.

Urgently, you thumb out a text to your sister informing you’ll be arriving later than scheduled. You know it’s the last thing she wants to deal with, but it’s out of your control. Clouds and foggy weather in Seattle are to blame, and truthfully, you could say it’s her fault for living somewhere that experiences such dingy weather most days. But you wouldn’t do that.

Instead, you sigh in defeat and find somewhere to sit and pass the time.

Several coffees and a handful of swipe lefts on your dating app later, your plane is finally beginning to board. Grabbing your bag, you get in the queue for your section, and you try to optimistically tell yourself things are only going to get better. That is, until you see some man sitting in your seat.

“Ahem,” a gentle throat clear to gain his attention that is currently focused on finding something in his backpack. “Excuse me,” you try again when he doesn’t respond to your first attempt.

But then he’s snapping his head up to look at you, and you suddenly forget what your issue with him was.

“Sorry?” He genuinely asks, bright blue eyes staring at you in expected anticipation.

“Uh, I...um, you’re in my seat,” you finally manage to get out, an awkward laugh tacked on the end when you gesture to the seat number on your ticket.

His brow furrows, confusion warping into surprise. “I’m so sorry!” He exclaims, quickly hopping up from the seat he occupies to shuffle out into the aisle.

You quickly take note of his height, and…well-built stature. There is no denying this man is attractive, and you don’t miss the quick once over of appraisal he does of you, too.

“It’s been a hectic day,” he sheepishly admits.

“I hear that,” you chuckle, slipping your bag off your shoulder and moving to take your seat.

The man follows, sitting right beside you, and you think this nearly seven hour flight might end up being alright. Silence takes over as the two of you settle into your seats, and you pull out your phone to let your sister know you’ve boarded. Then your seat mate is gaining your attention again as he speaks up.

“I’m Bucky, by the way.”

He holds out a hand for you to shake, and you offer him your name in return.

“Figured we’ve got a long flight ahead of us,” he smiles, and there’s a swoop deep in your belly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

“What’s in Seattle? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh, uh, my sister is getting married this weekend.”

“That’s cool. I’m actually heading out there for a wedding, too.”

“What a coincidence,” you comment, and he nods in agreement.

The overhead speaker cuts through the soft murmurs and the faint sound of a baby crying somewhere in the back of the plane. Flight attendants run through the emergency evacuation plans and then the pilot is announcing for passengers to buckle their seatbelts for takeoff.

Thirty minutes goes by in a flash, you and Bucky exchanging small stories, including the woes of each of your mornings. By the time the flight attendant comes around offering food and beverages, a mischievous look has taken over Bucky’s features.

“Drinks?”

There’s a twinkle in his eye, and a quiet promise of a good time hidden in the corner of his smile.

“Definitely.”

Gin and tonic. Rum and coke. Minutes roll into hours, time passing by in an intoxicating and dimly lit blur as you continue sharing bits and pieces of your lives. A mention of a time from college, a brief discussion about his sister and then yours, talks of what shows you’ve watched on Netflix. The liquor spurring on the undeniable attraction between you. A quick touch here, a flirty line there, bashful smirks pressed into thin lines to hold back face-splitting smiles. Inhibitions lowering as sip after sip passes through your lips.

“I’ll tell you what, Doll,” Bucky begins, placing his fresh drink onto the tray before him, “I was not looking forward to this flight, but you’ve certainly made it better.”

Doll.

The pet name hasn’t gone unnoticed by you the entire time. It first happened when he excused himself to use the restroom.

“I’ll be back in a minute, Doll.”

Then again when he asked if you wanted another round.

“Another drink, Doll?”

You aren’t sure what’s more intoxicating—the drinks or the spark in Bucky’s eye when he calls you that.

“Well, my original plan was to sleep for most of this flight,” you reply, taking a sip of your cocktail, “but I’m enjoying myself.”

Smirking coyly at him, you watch as Bucky glances to your mouth, his bottom lip catching between his teeth. A pregnant pause fills the space, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of everything that’s been said and done between you. Temptation swirls in his steely blue eyes, pupils dilating and eyelids drooping.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

The confession initially catches you off-guard, a gasp catching in your throat. But then you quickly recover, the same thought swimming around the bottom of your glass for the past hour.

“Meet me in the bathroom in two minutes,” you say, setting your drink down and scooting by him.

The burn of his stare is felt as you scurry down the aisle, trying your best to be as inconspicuous as possible. The cabin is dark for the most part, except for the few passengers using their overhead lights to read or occupy themselves with something else. Quickly, you open and shut the bathroom door, sure to lock it to deter anyone unwanted coming in.

Giving yourself a quick once over in the mirror, you groan when you see some mascara has crusted in the corner of your eye. Then you take a moment to primp your hair, not that it really matters.

Adrenaline rushes through you at the sound of three faint knocks against the door. Without hesitation, you unlock and open it, revealing a very riled up Bucky. He pushes through the threshold, instantly shutting and locking you both inside the tiny bathroom. Chest heaving against yours, there isn’t another wasted moment as he grips the back of your head to pull you in for a searing kiss.

Your hands around his neck, in his hair. Large arms around your waist, hoisting you up and pressing you against the wall. A moan that’s quickly swallowed up when you wrap your legs around him, the growing bulge in his sweatpants pressing against your thinly covered core, damp and throbbing.

Sweet soda and bitter rum send your senses into overdrive when his tongue interlaces with yours. The desire and need for more intensifying, heating the ever so small space.

“Please,” you breathe out when Bucky trails his lips along your jaw, down your neck. A few nips and sucks eliciting goosebumps across your skin.

Pressing harder against you, a hand snakes up and under your shirt, palming at your breast. The wanting fever takes over, clothes tugged and pulled at, revealing just what is needed most. The ache in your core is almost painful, but it’s quickly subdued when two fingers brush against it. A pleased sigh when Bucky runs them along your wet folds before pushing one, then two fingers inside.

“Oh my god,” you cry, the hold on his shoulders tightening.

“Shh,” Bucky quiets, pressing his lips against yours. “Don’t wanna get caught, do we? I won’t make it in jail.” He chuckles, his mouth curling into a smile which quickly fades as he watches your face contort in pleasure. His nose runs along your jaw, then his forehead rests against yours as he coaxes an orgasm from you. “C’mon, that’s it, Doll.”

Hot breaths fan over open mouths, labored pants strain your lung capacity, and then you feel it. Velvet walls flutter then clamp around his fingers when you reach your peak, a mewl falling from your lips. Bucky kisses you again, hard and desperate, when he retracts his fingers. You’re left feeling empty for a moment, but then the tip of Bucky’s member is nudging at your entrance.

“Are you sure?” He asks breathlessly, blue eyes searching yours for confirmation.

“Yes,” you breathe, gulping for air, “Yes, I’m sure.”

His lips are on yours once more, but you’re unable to kiss him back when he pushes inside you, mouth falling open into a silent ‘o’ as you adjust to his size. Bucky is big, there is no question about that. It’s a burning sensation at first, core clenching at the pain, but he takes it slow.

“Jesus,” Bucky sighs against your neck. Both hands grip your backside as he steadily moves in and out, giving you both the chance to adjust.

Then you’re relaxing, squeezing your legs around his waist, and Bucky takes that as his cue to pick up the pace. Fast and relentless, he pounds into you as he begins the chase for his own release. The coil in your belly is retightening, the threat of another overwhelming orgasm just out of reach. Skin tingling, sweat building, you’re nearly there.

“Don’t stop,” you pant, one hand gripping his neck, the other on his bicep, both holding on for dear life.

A deep groan vibrates against your chest, a sloppy kiss to your neck, Bucky’s thrusts begin to stutter and you know he’s close.

“Please, I’m almost…” But the rest of your plea dies as you cry out in a hushed moan, arms and legs tightly wrapping around Bucky’s large frame.

He continues to move inside you, sending waves of aftershocks through your body. But then he’s pushing into you one last time, bringing you down onto him and stopping once he reaches the hilt, his hot spend coating your walls. A final few twitches of his member, still buried deep in you, makes you shudder.

Bucky leans back, and places a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Fuck, that was incredible,” he chuckles, kissing your lips again, then your cheek.

“Well, that escalated quickly,” you softly laugh, earning another chuckle from Bucky as he nuzzles into your neck.

He holds you for a moment longer, allowing your bodies and minds to come down from their dizzying highs. And then he’s slowly pulling out, earning a hiss from each of you. Tucking his softening member back into his sweatpants, Bucky leaves you with another kiss to the cheek and a I’ll see you back there before he lets you clean up.

Subconsciously, you smooth out your clothes and fix your hair as you walk down the aisle to your seat. No one looks up or gives any notion they’ve heard what you’ve just done, but the secret I know something you don’t know has you imagining all eyes are on you.

Bucky hands you a water as you sit back down and you quietly thank him for it. As you open the bottle and take a sip, he breaks the silence that’s between you.

“What just happened wasn’t my intention when I said I wanted to kiss you,” he states, a sincerity in his voice and an honesty in his eyes. “I really did just mean I wanted to kiss you, but when you looked at me like that…and then, the bathroom, fuck,” he chuckles, glancing to his hands, “you’re just really fucking gorgeous, and…I’ve really enjoyed talking with you.”

He’s looking back to you, and if it wasn’t so dark in the cabin, you’d swear there was a tinge of pink to his cheeks, and not solely a lingering side effect of what just transpired.

A smile stretches along your face at his endearing confession. Truthfully, you weren’t exactly sure what you were expecting to happen when your liquor laced tongue invited him to join you in the bathroom, but you can’t say you regret it.

“I’ve really enjoyed talking with you, too,” you finally respond, and there’s an audible sigh of relief from Bucky in response.

“C’mere,” he says, raising the armrest that separates your seats. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he pulls you into his body before placing a kiss to the crown of your head.

After a several quiet moments, Bucky suggests watching a movie on his iPad, and you agree, but neither of you make it through the first half of the film by the time sleep is calling for you. However, despite your fatigue and post-sex haze, you made sure to ask Bucky for his number, which he happily provided.

After he hands your phone back, a smirk creeps across your lips.

“I’m putting you in as Mile High Club.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky x you

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geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde · 3 years

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Let It Be Me

Hello all! It’s finally time to post my Novigrad Exchange fic! Big thanks to @ohnomybreadsticks and @jaskiersvalley for taking the time to organize this! <3 And of course thanks again to Socks for the beta help <3 <3

This is for the incredibly talented @journeythroughunknownlands

Geralt overdoses on potions and the most efficient way to burn them off is with an orgasm (or two... or more). Queue Jaskier, loyal best friend who is always willing to lend a helping hand (or other body part 😏). Seasoned with a hearty sprinkle of pining.

This will be cross posted on AO3 later today.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: frottage, blow jobs, anal sex, bottom Geralt, multiple orgasms, pining, requited feelings, happy/hopeful ending

3.9k words

Geralt felt the potions burning their way through his veins, lighting him on fire; he had taken too many. The endrega colony was much smaller than anticipated and the fight was much shorter than it would have been otherwise, far too short of a fight to help him burn off the toxins in his blood.

His skin felt pulled tight, and he knew just what he would look like. His paler than normal complexion would be marred with black veins, his eyes would look like pots of ink, the color of ichor, he would look every bit of the monster humans thought him to be.

Fuck, if he didn’t find a good way to let off some steam and work this out of his system, this would take hours to wear off. He was out of White Honey and didn’t have any honey suckle on hand to make more, and he doubted he would be able to find any.

Looking around the clearing he was in, he quickly dismissed the idea of getting himself off. He was painfully hard in his trousers, and a quick wank would be the most efficient way to burn through the toxins, but this wasn’t the place for it. There was far too much noise in this particular forest, making him wonder what curious creatures would come to investigate. He also didn’t bring any of his… toys with him. He didn’t need them, of course, but they made things a bit more enjoyable and typically sped up the process. No, he needed to get back to town and figure something else out. It was unlikely he would be able to find a whore willing to lay with him, no matter the coin offered, and he really didn’t have much to offer.

He could always try to sleep through it or take care of himself back in his room where his toys were, though that would mean making his way through the inn looking like he did, if the innkeep would even let him up to his room.

Sighing and deciding that he really had no good option, he turned, his trophies in hand, and began the trek through the dense trees back to town.

Geralt really should have stayed in the forest. He had known better but ignored the small voice in the back of his head trying to talk sense into him. Instead, he allowed himself to return to town despite everything he ever learned at Kaer Morhen, despite every bit of real-life experience reminding him that exposing himself to humans in this state was an awful idea.

If the toxins in his blood felt like fire, the horrified stares were even worse, like daggers stabbing into his already sensitive skin.

Thankfully, he managed to get to the inn without incident, despite the stares, despite the hatred and fear he could smell emanating from everyone he passed. And despite the shocking waves of pain and pleasure shooting through him as he walked with his erection straining against his trousers. The silence in the inn was unsettling though, all speech coming to a halt as he stepped through the door, and he had to push down a wave of embarrassment, knowing that everyone would be able to see his erection. Silence, though, meant he wasn’t being kicked out and allowed him to make his way up the stairs and to his room.

His room that he was sharing with Jaskier.

Fuck.

He hadn’t thought about it until he opened the door, it hadn’t even crossed his mind. Jaskier’s presence had become such a normal and routine part of his life that he hadn’t even thought about the bard being there, about having to deal with Jaskier in this state.

There was no way he would be able to stay in the room like this. He had to fight back his arousal for the bard in the best of times, and this couldn’t be called the best of anything. The bard’s scent was already one that intoxicated him, and now with all of his senses heightened, there would be no way he could stay in the room with him, it would be pure torture if he tried. Quickly making up his mind as Jaskier stared at him in surprise, Geralt stomped across the room to grab his bag of toys, there was no chance he would be able to ride this out with Jaskier not even ten feet away, smelling and looking the way he did.

Geralt could hear Jaskier’s voice clearly, though his racing mind couldn’t parse out the words. He could smell the bard’s confusion, hear it in the tone of his voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to even grunt out an explanation as he made his way back to the door. All Geralt could focus on was the sudden need to go back out to the woods and take care of himself. It had been a long while since he had last gotten the opportunity to use some of his favorite toys, so he might as well make the best of an awful situation.

As he reached for the knob on the door, he felt a sudden tug on the bag in his hand and he spun around just as it ripped, the contents spilling on the floor. Geralt couldn’t think of a time in which he had more desperately wished it was true what they say about witchers, that they felt no emotions. Geralt let out a frustrated growl, the absolute mortification within him warring with the anger he was feeling at Jaskier for trying to stop him just led to more desperation for a fix to his situation. He had just wanted to escape the inn and take care of himself, solve the problem in the relative privacy of the woods, but no, nothing ever went that simply for him.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice was tentative in a way that it normally wasn’t, far more hesitant than the rather direct bard ever bothered being. Geralt’s eyes snapped up to meet Jaskier’s as the witcher willed himself to remain calm. He was sure his face would be turning red from embarrassment if it wasn’t for the poison affecting his complexion and he sent off a silent thanks to whoever was listening that at least he was spared from that.

“Geralt? Are you okay?”

Geralt wasn’t sure he understood what Jaskier was asking. He had expected Jaskier to be more afraid of him in this state, having never seen his reaction to taking potions before, and far more concerned by the toys now scattered across the floor, rather than if he was okay.

“Fine,” he finally grunted out, hoping Jaskier would stop looking at him with such concern. It wasn’t a look that he needed directed at him, he would be fine if he could just leave.

“Fine?” Jaskier squeaked, “You don’t look fine! You look like you’re dying! Geralt, are you poisoned? Are you dying? Can I help? What do I need to do?”

Taking a deep breath and nearly choking on the scent of the bard, even more overwhelming this close, Geralt finally managed to motion to the floor, littered with his rather extensive collection, “Potions. Those… help.” There was no way he would be able to say more, not about this subject, not in his current state. Possibly not ever.

He watched as Jaskier stared at him consideringly before looking down at the floor, and then back up at Geralt. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, but Geralt didn’t know how to explain it any better.

Jaskier reached up, touching at Geralt’s face hesitantly, “This is because of your potions?” Geralt nodded, leaning into the touch. It was just this side of too much but it felt so good.

Humming softly, Jaskier glanced back at the floor, “And those… help?”

Geralt nodded again, still relishing in the contact of Jaskier’s hand pressing gently against his face. There were so many feelings thrumming through him, embarrassment and worry and arousal but Jaskier’s touch seemed to almost calm them. Unfortunately, it seemed that it couldn’t last and Jaskier pulled away, making Geralt whimper at the loss.

“How do they help?” Jaskier asked as he knelt down in front of Geralt. The witcher watched in horror as Jaskier meticulously gathered the contents of the now destroyed bag before placing them on the small table in their room. “Is it something about the toys themselves? Or is it just the… result.”

Geralt could feel his throat closing up as he choked out, “Result.”

Watching Geralt closely, Jaskier made his way back across the room, concern still written clearly across his features, “Where were you going?”

“Woods.”

“Do you… normally take care of this in the woods?”

“Yes,” Geralt felt just as weak as his voice sounded suddenly, he felt exposed like a raw nerve and it hurt.

“Can I help you?”

Geralt felt his entire body seize up as his mind slowly caught up with Jaskier’s question. Letting out a whine, he found himself reaching out for Jaskier before he even knew what he was doing, before he had even made a conscious decision.

Jaskier stepped closer, allowing himself to be wrapped in Geralt’s arms as the witcher buried his face in Jaskier’s neck. The bard smelled so fucking good and Geralt wanted this so badly, had wanted it for years. But Jaskier didn’t, surely. Geralt should let go.

But Jaskier’s hands were suddenly trailing up and down Geralt’s back comfortingly, and Geralt couldn’t let go, it felt amazing, like nothing he had ever allowed himself to experience before, and he couldn’t give it up. With any luck, the bard wouldn’t hate him for his actions tomorrow.

Inhaling deeply and letting the bard’s scent wash over him, Geralt made up his mind. He would get whatever he could from Jaskier tonight and then spend the rest of his life making it up to the bard.

He felt Jaskier start to pull back and he only gripped harder, clenching Jaskier’s doublet in his hands. Jaskier made a soft sound, “Hey, it’s okay, but we should take this over to the bed, okay?”

Geralt could hear the logic in Jaskier’s words, but he didn’t want to let go. Instead, he shuffled forward slowly, his face still buried in Jaskier’s neck, until he could feel the impact as the back of Jaskier’s knees hit the mattress. He urged Jaskier back on the bed, settling himself into Jaskier’s side, still hiding his face.

Jaskier’s hands began running through Geralt’s hair, making the witcher let out a purr and Jaskier chuckle, “I always knew you liked your hair played with. Is this what you want, darling? To lay here and cuddle until you feel better? Or do you want more?” Geralt didn’t think he would ever want to let go, but he needed more. As nice as this felt, he could still feel his cock, hard and heavy and uncomfortably pressed against his pants.

Whispering his answer, Geralt practically begged for more.

Suddenly, Geralt found himself on his back, Jaskier hovering over him. The bard’s scent was now tinged heavily with his own arousal and Geralt couldn’t hold back another whine as he bucked his hips, seeking friction. Jaskier smirked down at him, lowering his body until they were pressed against each other. Geralt could feel Jaskier’s own hardness pressed against his and he groaned out at the sensation. How many nights had he dreamed of this same thing? Of being pressed up underneath Jaskier, desperate for pleasure to be wrung from him, at the mercy of Jaskier’s talented hands.

And mouth.

Gods, he’d had so many fantasies about the bard’s mouth, taking him apart, bringing him damn near to tears. And now here he was, with all of those fantasies in arms reach. His lust had completely fogged his brain, completely overpowering the potion-induced fire in his veins, replacing it with an even more powerful burn.

“Is this what you wanted?” Jaskier asked, his voice low.

All Geralt could do was nod, his hips still grinding up desperately into Jaskier’s. The fire was raging inside him now, completely overwhelming him. He wasn’t sure exactly how Jaskier managed to get both of their clothes off, but the next thing he knew they were pressed together, skin to skin. Geralt was crying out from the sensations, both too much and not enough, as Jaskier kept talking to him. The whispered words doused the fire just for a moment until Jaskier’s lips chased his words, reigniting the fire to burn even brighter. Geralt had never understood poets when they said they had found themselves out of their mind with pleasure but then again, he had never experienced this.

He was unbelievably hard, his cock ached and throbbed where it lay, pressed between him and Jaskier. It could have been seconds or hours that he spent rocking against Jaskier for friction before he found himself so very close to the edge of orgasm.

Jaskier licked a stripe up Geralt’s neck to nip at his ear, “That’s right, Geralt, take what you need. You look so beautiful like this, just take what you need.” It was Jaskier’s words, whispered like a filthy secret in his ear, that finally tipped him over just as he asked, “Are you going to cum for me?”

Geralt let out a mewl as his body shook under Jaskier, his orgasm hot and intense, feeling as though it may never end. He felt hazy almost, the once intense fire settling down to a manageable smolder even as Jaskier trailed kisses down his body. Watching closely, Geralt found himself enraptured at the man above him, groaning as Jaskier continued down, licking up Geralt’s spend as he went.

“Fuck, Jask,” he gasped out as the bard continued on, his tongue lapping at Geralt’s still hard cock.

The bard smirked, “Ready for another round so soon?”

“The… potions. They keep me… excited.”

“Well then, we’ll just have to work them out of your system.”

Any response Geralt might have thought of was lost as Jaskier promptly wrapped his lips around the head of Geralt’s cock. Geralt could barely stop himself from thrusting forward, fucking into Jaskier’s mouth. It looks so pretty, stretched obscenely around Geralt as he bobbed up and down.

Geralt gasped as he felt a finger probing at his hole, circling it slowly, applying a slight pressure but never pushing in. Just as suddenly as the contact had started, it stopped, Jaskier pulling his mouth away as well, making him keen, his arms already reaching toward the bard, desperate. “It’s okay, darling. Let me just get some oil, okay? This will be much more enjoyable that way.”

Oil. Right. If he was going to be fucked, then oil would make it better. That made perfect sense to Geralt, but still he followed Jaskier’s form greedily and he hurried over to the odds and ends now strewn across the table in their room, picking up a small bottle, and heading back over to the bed, a small smile on his face as he positioned himself between Geralt’s legs.

Geralt made a satisfied noise as Jaskier set a hand on his thigh, stroking up and down, “Is this what you want darling, what you need? Want me to fuck you?”

“Please.” The plea was ripped from Geralt’s throat almost as if it weren’t him speaking. But it was him and he had never before felt so desperate. He wanted Jaskier fucking into him, wanted their bodies writhing together. He wanted the best kind of fire back, lust and passion burning his veins as he looked into Jaskier’s eyes. Fuck.

Thankfully, Jaskier needed nothing more from Geralt, and wasted no time, slicking his fingers and going back to toying with him, “Look at you, so needy for this, I bet I could slip right into you with no prep.”

Fuck, Geralt couldn’t help but groan, “Please, anything, please.”

“Shh it’s okay, soon. I want to make this good for you,” Jaskier’s voice was soft as he leaned forward, locking his lips with Geralt’s as he pushed a finger inside. He hadn’t been wrong, Geralt took the finger easily, more than ready for the feeling. Rocking his hips, Geralt searched for more.

Pulling back and smiling at Geralt, Jaskier’s eyes crinkled up at the corners in the way that always made Geralt want to smile with him. “Are you feeling good? Ready for more?”

Geralt tried to speak, he really did, but all that came out was a needy sound as he ground down on Jaskier’s hand.

“I’ve got you, darling, I’ve got you.” Soon after, Jaskier was pressing another finger inside him, thrusting in and out and it was so good Geralt could do nothing but pant and whine as he moved in time with Jaskier, seeking his own pleasure.

It was so good but it was still just a tease of what was to come.

“Jaskier, please, fuck. Fuck me.”

“Okay, just one last thing.” Before Geralt could even register the sentence, Jaskier had leaned down, wrapping his lips around Geralt’s cock again, just as he curled his fingers, pressing against that spot inside him.

Geralt cried out, his body shaking as he came so hard he saw stars. Relaxing back onto the bed, Geralt whimpered helplessly as Jaskier released him, his fingers slipping from his hole.

“Do you still want more?”

Opening his eyes was a struggle but he managed after a moment, shooting a glare at Jaskier, “Fuck me.”

Jaskier chuckled, “Alright, alright, I’ll get on with it, then.”

Geralt watched in a daze as Jaskier pumped his own cock, covering it with slick. The man was large and it would certainly be a stretch. His own cock was already hard again, twitching as he thought about how good that would feel inside of him. Moving forward, Jaskier lined up and began to push in, gasping as he did so.

It had been so long since Geralt had been fucked. Typically when he was out wandering the continent, all he had with him to relieve this particular want was his bag of toys, and fuck it felt so much better when it was the real thing.

Geralt watched as Jaskier sunk into him, their hips meeting softly as Jaskier panted above him. The stretch was amazing, just the right amount of pressure to make it overwhelmingly good. Geralt tried to stay still, he did, but after a while he had to move. The roll of his hips pulled a grunt from Jaskier as he threw his head back in pleasure.

“Just a moment, fuck, you’re tight.” Jaskier was breathless, gasping out his words, sweat beading on his brow.

Geralt had never seen him look more amazing.

Jaskier began thrusting in and out of him slowly, the burn of the stretch and the feeling of fullness sending sparks of pleasure through Geralt. It wasn’t long before Jaskier sped up, shifting more until finally, he moved just right, drawing a yelp out of Geralt as he hit his prostate. A smirk lit up Jaskier’s face as he pulled out and thrust back in, his aim precise as he once again hit that same spot again and again. The bard kept going, sending Geralt into a frenzy of begging and crying out. The fingers of Geralt’s hand were threaded with Jaskier’s, held down above his head. Geralt’s other hand was gripping at Jaskier’s back, his fingers digging into the soft skin as Jaskier kept thrusting.

“Won't- last,” Jaskier gasped, his free hand coming up to wrap around Geralt’s cock.

It was likely only seconds but it felt like hours when finally he felt himself falling again, his orgasm rushing through him, his body relaxing into a boneless mess as Jaskier thrust once, twice more, freezing his motions and shaking as he spent inside of Geralt, finally collapsing on top of him.

“I don’t know if I can move,” Jaskier said, his voice muffled from where he had buried his head in Geralt’s chest.

“Mmm. Don’t.”

“Okay.”

And then Geralt was asleep.

The first thing Geralt noticed was how dry his mouth was. It wasn’t unusual, not after a hunt. His potions would have that effect on him most of the time, particularly if he struggled with burning them off. He went to shift, suddenly noticing the heavy weight on top of him. Opening his eyes, Geralt couldn’t see anything but a mop of brown hair. Inhaling deeply as he tried to gain awareness of his surroundings, he was assaulted with the scent of Jaskier and himself and sex.

Oh fuck.

Geralt shifted slightly under Jaskier, making the bard startle awake on top of him. Jaskier seemed to gain awareness quickly, rolling off of Geralt quickly, his cheeks blooming a brilliant red on his otherwise pale face.

“Ah,” Jaskier cleared his throat, his eyes darting around the room, “good morning. I trust you’re feeling better.”

Geralt nodded, sitting up and reaching for the pitcher beside the bed, drinking straight from it. He felt some of the water spill out, dripping down his naked chest, but paid it no mind as he tried to wash the dryness from his throat.

Fuck. He really came back to the inn with potions burning through him and let himself fuck Jaskier. Well, let himself be fucked by Jaskier. Well… begged to be fucked by Jaskier.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Putting down the now empty pitcher, Geralt shot a furtive look at Jaskier, feeling the guilt pooling in his stomach. Jaskier was loyal to a fault, something Geralt had taken for granted for so long, and now here he was, after a night of going out of his way doing something he had no interest in doing, looking at Geralt with nothing but concern for the witcher. Jaskier was too good for Geralt, he didn’t deserve to have to deal with situations like this.

“I’m sorry.”

Jaskier looked taken aback, “For what?”

“Making you feel like you had to help me last night. I appreciate it but… I’m sorry.”

“I… Geralt I offered to help. I never felt obligated and you never did anything to make me.”

It couldn’t possibly be that easy, could it? Geralt’s needs had been far more than anyone could be expected to help with. Jaskier should have sent him on his way and spared himself the trouble.

“Geralt?” Jaskier said softly, moving closer and reaching up to cup Geralt’s cheek, “Thank you for trusting me with this. I’m glad I could help you.”

Whether it was the earnest sound of Jaskier’s voice or maybe just Geralt’s need to believe that someone really did want to be there for him, he was unsure. All he knew was that he never wanted to break Jaskier’s gaze. His eyes were so incredibly blue, bright pools of crystal clear water begging for someone to dive in and Geralt found himself ready to jump.

Before he noticed what was happening, Geralt had already leaned into Jaskier, making his eyes widen, surprise written across his face. But he didn’t pull back. No, Jaskier’s eyes flicked down to Geralt’s lips before once again meeting Geralt’s gaze. Geralt wasn’t sure if it was him or Jaskier that initiated the all encompassing kiss that followed, all he knew was it was something he had wanted for so long and felt so right.

Maybe, next time potions were burning through his veins and he wanted to crawl out of his skin, Jaskier would meet him and apply this affection like a balm, soothing Geralt in a way he had never before experienced. Maybe from this moment forward, he wouldn’t wait for Jaskier to realize he deserved better and move on. Maybe, just maybe, Geralt had really found happiness.

Check out my masterlist!

Tag list: @stinastar @feraljaskier @bastardofmothman @hailhailsatan @moonysrz @its-onions @elliestormfound @dapandapod @jaskierswolf @fontegagrilledcheese @negativenuggetz @veritasrose @feral-jaskier @kozkaboi @kueble @llamasdumpsterfire @selectivegeekwithstandards @dani-dandelino @holymotherwolf

#novigrad exchange #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #fanfiction #the witcher fandom #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier

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arrthurpendragon · 3 years

Text

OC Community Building Stuff

I’ve been researching how to make communities work and pondering how to apply practices to the OC Community for a few weeks now.. I’m gonna say some things that not everyone will agree with. You’re more than welcome to unfollow me, but please don’t send me hate.

What helps make a strong community? Or make a community work? Literally the first thing you Google will tell you:

Recognition

Team Outings

Fitness / Sports Teams

Volunteering

Purpose-designed spaces

I’ve been in the community for awhile now and I’ll give you my take on things. It doesn’t mean that it is the only take on the piece, but here’s what I’ve noticed in my nearly 7 years here on Tumblr.

1. Recognition - everyone reblogs those posts that say you should “reblog people’s art/fics” But from what I’ve seen, most people never take that to heart and put the work in themselves. Some expect people to see that post and then to reblog their stuff. But it’s a two-way street. People then will complain that it shouldn’t be tit-for-tat but what world have you been living in? Most things come at a price. For most people (in case you haven’t noticed, life isn’t always fair), you have to put in what you want out of it.

How to fix this issue? Reblog people’s stuff. I have met people out there who are more willing to reblog my stuff because I reblog their stuff. Like people’s stuff. Review people’s fics. Send them asks. Follow random new blogs that seem OC they will likely follow you back (I know for fact this is true. Not everyone but many)

You have to help foster the experience you want. If you want recognition, try your hardest to recognize others.

2. Team Outings - I think this is one thing some people are already doing in a sense. Giveaways. Read & Reviews. Review exchanges. I think our problem is that we are burning out the people who take the time to do this for the communities.

How do we fix this issue? Host a giveaway or exchange. Spread it around so that we aren’t burning out our OC community friends. Maybe you can’t make graphics, that’s okay! You can still host and see all the cool things. OR host a review exchange. The more events that different people make, the more people that can feel welcome. Maybe one person isn’t comfortable with person A but they are with person B - it’s not competition - it’s just another opportunity.

MAKE SURE YOU DO NOT TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THE PEOPLE HOSTING! it doesn’t hurt you to say thank you. As someone who hosts quite frequently the number of people who don’t say thank you is astonishing and usually those are the people who tend to ask and ask and ask.

Make sure people know they are appreciated! I rarely - RARELY felt appreciated when queuing stuff for ocappreciation. Most people would come to be like “you made a mistake” but not realizing that fingers slip, that people try their best, that people don’t put information on the post and I have to guess. But I RARELY got a thank you for reblogging the posts. People just expected it because it was tagged, like they were entitled to ocappreciation - hence why I stepped back several times. (May try to restart it again, but I digress)

3. Fitness / Sports Teams - This one was a bit harder to qualify in the OC community, I’ll fully admit. BUT what it boils down to is a people you like to spend your time with. These are called friends. Do you work out with every person in your acquaintance? No. Just because you aren’t in a “friend group” doesn’t mean it’s exclusive. Honestly, for the most part if you approach someone in the community, they’ll reciprocate. But again, everyone expects someone to recognize them struggling. Imma be honest, I haven’t felt like I’ve had “close friends’ here on Tumblr until maybe the past year or two and I’ve been here for almost 7 years. You don’t always find your niche right away. But I don’t hold any malice or hate toward anyone. Anyone is welcome to approach me.

How do we fix this issue? Be patient and try to find your people. You might not “fit in” with a certain group and THAT’S OKAY! They don’t have to be your besties, they can be acquaintances that you are nice to. That’s how it works in real life too. Don’t expect everyone to be your best friend. But stilll be kind to people and respect other people. If you want to be friends with someone because you think they’re cool - reach out to them. Chances are, they might be looking for a friend too, but a lot of us are introverts are afraid to make the first move. Someone’s gotta make it - or everyone is gonna be miserable.

4. Volunteering - I feel I covered most of this heavily in #1 & 2. Randomly go review someone’s fic without prompting. Send them an ask (it can even be on anon) Reblog other people’s stuff. Join a discord group. Thanks people. Host a giveaway or exchange. It takes everyone to build a community.

5 Purpose-designed spaces - There are SO many oc blogs, whether is is ocappreciation, allaboutocs, or other fandom-related blogs...

*side note interact with those blogs too so people know they aren’t wasting their time reblogging and queueing stuff because it can be burdensome*

There are also Discord groups - you just gotta find them. Maybe if you read this and have an OC discord group, just say in the notes that you have one if people are welcome to join.

In conclusion, to improve this community there is something almost everyone in the community can work to strive to do better. But we can’t let only a few people be the ones to do all the work and then burn out.

If you’re fed up with “the community” then try to help fix it instead of complaining about it. I bet if we worked on these 5 things, we could make the OC Community a better place.

#oc community #ocappreciation #allaboutocs #oc community building

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spiltscribbles · 3 years

Text

The One Where No One Is Ready

~Notes: I’m reposting this because I deleted the series off of AO3 <3<3

Send Me A Friends Storyline/Prompt | A Reblog Means EVERYTHING!

Their is T minus forty-five minutes until James is expected to enter the arena for this year’s Espy awards, where he— a longterm representative of the UK’s top athletes, with a social media following that can rival a B list celebrity’s— will be presenting the award for the best international football player, and rumor has it that Ludo fucking Bagman is going to win. This is a dream come true— more than that even! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity! And it was thanks to his mentor, Minerva McGonagall, that he even can do something that he’s dreamt of doing since his days playing in the child leagues as a lad. It’s going to be one of the best nights of his bloody life. So it only makes sense that his sodding best friends aren’t even taking this with an ounce of seriousness. In fact, instead of doing the decent thing and getting ready as efficiently as possible, those pricks are lounging over the breakfast table goading Sirius into drinking the fat from the icebox that Lily stored for whichever cooking masterpiece she is sure to whip up later this week. Not a one of them even showered.

Bloody blunders.

“Oi, Moons,” Sirius crows loudly, grinning wolfishly down at him with a glint in his steely eyes and a smirk on his face. “Promise if I chug this down you’ll give us a little kiss.”

James feels a migraine coming on.

“In your dreams Black,” Remus retorts, wrinkling his nose disapprovingly, while Marlene only guffaws and James feels his head literally beginning to pulse with pure exasperation.

Absolute pricks..

“You gits, we’ve got less than an hour till we have to call the cabs. Will you all just get dressed for Christ’s sake.”

“No need for the snappy tone Prongs.” Sirius says with a cluck to his tongue.

“It’ll take us only a tick to get ready,” Remus says, waving him off airily. And James really regrets the fact that he’s moved in with Sirius now that James and Lily are in marital bliss. Sirius’s a bad influence on him, and James should’ve predicted as much.

“Besides, ’s not my fault your wife’s hogging the bathroom,” Marlene tacks on— having dashed over here after her shift at the same firm as James, still dressed in her slacks and leather jacket.

“Well Marls, you don’t have to get your hair done now that you’ve chopped it off as short as your ears,” Lily defends herself as she steps out the aforementioned bathroom in James’s powder blue robe, thankfully her makeup is set and hair is pulled back into an artful bun and she’s as beautiful as ever. James can’t help but feel his insides go all goopy and his stomach begins to tumble every time she even looks his way, especially when she smiles that private little grin that she only uses on him.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph does he love her to his very core, tells her as much once kissing her softly amidst the groans of the other three. “You are my angel.”

“I know,” Lily preens, green eyes bright and dimples in full effect. “Now I’ve just got to pick out what to wear and we can go.”

James thanks her profusely before pivoting back around to Marlene, begs her to get on with it already.

“Alright, alright potter. God you men only like to rush, no time for foreplay.”

“I like foreplay,” Remus contends as he sits on the loveseat and begins flipping through a magazine Lily’s left laying around, which makes it so Sirius’s face goes wrecked and pale and very nearly makes the cup of fat in his hand fall to the ground— is only saved by James’s old footie reflexes.

“Get it the fuck together man,” James hisses with a glower. But then quickly amends, “But not tonight. Tonight just get dressed for fuck’s sake.” There is absolutely no time to deal with this melodrama between Sirius and Remus that basically amounts to heady glances and licked lips and sexual tension that’s frankly obscene.

Sirius swallows down, hard, and gives a perfunctory nod, but instead of walking across the hall to bloody change already, he only sits besides Remus and grins at him in a very scary, very intense way. James is almost convinced that poor Moony will end up naked and swaddled in saran wrap— Dexter style— by the end of the night. But he can’t warn him considering that there’s a knock to the door and he finds Dorcas—

beautiful and elegant in a pale yellow dress that contrasts in a lovely way against her dark brown skin— on the other side. “You look fantastic.” James breathes out, worshipingly.

“I know,” Dorcas beams as she struts in, helping herself to the pita crisps and hummus left out. “But don’t let Marls hear you else she gets all pouty.”

“Do not!” Marlene yells from the loo, to which Dorcas only silently mouths, does so, over James’s shoulder to a snickering Sirius.

“Right, well seeing as the ladies are all accounted for, we’re just waiting for Wormtail and you berks,” he points angrily at the pair now arguing over the remote.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Minnie can be left waiting,” Sirius snorts.

“Our table is at the very front Pads! She’ll see us walking in late! And then they might give my slot to that prick Mulciber!”

“A travesty,” Sirius intones.

“He might be on to something Pads,” Remus points out. “It takes an hour just for you to primp your hair.”

“Rome wasn’t built in a day Moony!”

“Are you implying that your hair is as extravagant as Rome? Because I think you might be seriously over estimating yourself.” Remus leers, and Sirius only gapes at the lip. God, if James has to watch them dancing around each other for another day he’s going to go rudding gray at the temples.

“You are a plonker Lupin!” Remus narrowly avoids Sirius’s punch aimed for his shoulder, and scurries off across the hall, Sirius’s gaze never leaving his arse all the while.

“That’s lewd,” Dorcas tells him.

“Pitiful from where I’m looking at it.” James snorts.

Sirius only glowers and tosses them the bird. “Come off it.”

“I bet you’d like to come off with’m.” Dorcas sneers, and James actually let’s himself laugh at the increasingly reddening face Sirius has just pulled in retort. Thankfully, none of his curses have a chance to spill out because of Peter strolling in— clad in a suit that’s a little short on the legs and a little tight in the middle. But he looks presentable at least, which is more than what Sirius could say.

“What’s wrong Pete?” Dorcas asks him as she perches on the armrest of the sofa.

“What do you mean what’s wrong? He’s dressed. He’s brilliant!” James beams, clapping him on the shoulder, noticing a beat too late how Peter’s acting a bit dodgy— hands rinsing in front of him and eyes darting every which way.

“I messaged Marry.”

“Oh Pete.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Why the fuck would you do that!”

The three of them chorus in various tones of disappointment.

“She, erm. Well She posted this picture of her at home with her puppy and I saw a sweater.”

“A sweater?” Sirius repeats, wry as all get out.

“A man’s sweater I mean.”

Dorcas rolls her eyes at him now. “Sweaters don’t have genders Peter.”

“Well this one did!” Peter fumes indignantly.

James raises his hands, as if he’s calming a spooked animal. “All right, all right. It was a man’s sweater. What did you message her bout it?”

Peter ducks his head once more, flushing pink. “I asked if her new boyfriend is as allergic to Pippa as I was.” Queue another round of discontent moaning.

“You bloody imbecile.” Sirius groans.

“It all just happened so quickly!”

“Things Sirius’s conquests say on their walk of shame for a thousand Alex,” Remus snickers as he steps back inside, fitted in an admittedly fetching, charcoal suit and a different colored tie in each of his hands. “Oh, you all look shifty.”

“Don’t ever criticize my shagging prowess again Lupin!”

“Peter made a mess of things with Marry,” Dorcas says before Sirius can get on one of his tangents.

“Oh Pete.”

“It happened so quickly,” he tries to explain once more.

Remus only shakes his head and pats his shoulder agreeably. “Sure it did.”

“Well did she read it yet?” Dorcas asks.

“Erm, she was online when I sent her the snap.”

“Oh Peter,” they all groan.

“I need a minute.” He says before retreating to the balcony.

James checks his watch, exactly a half an hour until they all have to go. No time for Peter’s dramatics. Maybe tomorrow James’ll buy him a pint and let him cry over it but they really need to get on with things already.

“C’mon pads, get up.” Remus instructs, trying to tug him off the couch, to which Sirius only smirks.

“You forfeited when you got up Lupin.”

“Oi! I got up to get dressed so James wouldn’t go barmy on us!”

“And I thank you Remus my sweet.” James pipes in while handing Marlene her bag of clothes she had left by the table.

“Pshaw, doesn’t matter. You left it.”

“I left for like five bloody minutes you arse!” Remus shouts.

“So you agree then,” Sirius counters with a cocked brow. “You left it.”

James has to deftly pull Remus away before he pounces on him. “Padfoot don’t be a wanker and just get up and get dressed, won’t you.”

Sirius eyes them both before a look James can’t decipher passes across his face, leaving behind a grim determination. “Righto mates.” He leaps up right then, snatching the cushions up with him, and swaggering off.

“Oi! What the hell Padfoot!”

“I gave you the seat Lupin.”

“But— But—“ Remus sputters. “You took the cushions! That’s the entire ruddy essence of the seat!”

“That’s right Lupin!” Sirius glows with far too much smugness for the situation at hand. “I took your essence!”

Remus is left balking after him and James promptly chugs down a handful of Ibuprofen.

“All right boys?” Marlene asks as she strolls out the bathroom in her black dress and heals, pecking Dorcas hello..

“I’m going to murder Sirius bloody Black with my bare hands,” Remus answers, fists tight around his ties and his face scrunched up mulishly.

“I’ll help!” Dorcas crows, before beaming at Lily who’s just clambered in— half dressed with a shawl in one hand and a different blouse entirely in the other.

“Do you guys reckon I should wear this with my purple pumps, or those new flats I got with a nice pair of slacks.”

“Lily, my love, the angel of my heart, the stars of my night,” James begins, a hand against his chest. “We’ve got twenty-seven minutes till we have to be downstairs.”

“Oh I know love, I just want to look nice for you and your big night,” she says poutingly, kisses his cheek before glancing over at the girls. “Wotcher Dorcas, you and Marlene look lovely.”

“I know,” Dorcas preens.”

“You’re in a jaunty mood?”

“She’s helping Lupin murder Black later tonight,” Marlene explains, lips curled with laughter.

“Oh lovely.”

“I’ll show him essence,” Remus growls from where he’s still holding vigil to the shut door.

James rolls back his head now, eyes alone definitely not cutting it anymore. “Damn everything.”

“Oh Re you look so smart in that suit,” Lily crows, walking over to him, but begins to cluck her tongue. “But neither of those ties match.”

Sirius used the rest of my ties to use as a rope for his halloween costume last month.”

“Of course he did.”

“He’s dead Lily.”

Lily smooths back his hair dotingly. “Sure he is darling, now c’mon. James has got a wonderful velvet tie that would look ravishing with this fit.” Remus lets Lily drag him away while Still muttering about Sirius and essences and the god forsaken guillotine of all things.

“There’s a video!” Peter shouts as he rushes back inside— blonde hair mussed and cheeks reddening as bright as Lily’s hair.

“Bloody hell Peter!” Marlene scolds, hand pressed to her chest. “Don’t be a git and scare us like that.”

Peter only repeats the fact that there’s a video— of what? James does not know nor does he want to find out. God he just wants them to act mentally sound for one damn night.

“A video!”

“Settle yourself Peter,” Dorcas scolds, a hand on her hip and a scowl twisting her pretty face. James reckons that if she were his history teacher in secondary school he might’ve actually been scared enough not to fall asleep. “Now explain yourself.”

“Mary posted a video of Pippa rolling over and there was a bloke in the background laughing along!”

“You saw a random bloke?” Marlene asks.

“No but I heard’m! Clear as day.”

Dorcas sighs, clamping a hand over his shoulder in solace. “Eh, think logically Peter, you lot only split up a couple weeks ago. I seriously doubt Mary’s gone off and shagged someone else so soon.”

“But I heard’m! Maybe she finally realized she could do better.”

“Oh none of that bollocks Peter Pettigrew.” Marlene bellows, joining her girlfriend to stand in front of him now. “Oi, wasn’t she close with that younger brother of her’s?”

Before Marlene’ even finished asking the question, Peter’s worried expression melts away, brightening ten fold and beginning to grin like an absolute lune. “Oi McKinnon! You bloody genius! Your right! It’s Marcus! It’s definitely Marcus!”

“Brilliant!” James hurriedly interjects, the time ticking down to only twenty minutes left. “It was obviously, certainly Marcus this entire time. Now why don’t you be a doll Peter and call us the cabs, I don’t want to risk not grabbing one in time. Especially in this miserable weather.”

Peter nods cheerily, picking up his mobile and idly noting that he’s begun to feel a bit peckish.

“There’s some fat in the fridge if you want,” Marlene calls after him, her snickering dining down once the front door to the flat swings open to a harried looking Sirius. James is about ready to row considering that the only notable differences seem to be the fact he’s no longer wearing his DR Martens and his hair’s even more disheveled than before.

“Where is Lupin!”

“Oi, Black! Not the bloody time for your little lovers quarrel.” James snaps.

“He took my pants!”

“Pardon?” Dorcas wheezes with pure delight.

“That sodding little slag stole my pants!”

“You stole my essence!” Remus bellows, storming back into the main room, shirtless and heated. James almost feels bad for Sirius who’s gone all flushed and blotchy at the sight.

“Remus! No, no, no! Why are you getting undressed! We want you all to be fully damn clothed!”

“Oh, that was my doing,” Lily pipes in, thankfully clad in a lovely, green number that brings out her eyes. “I thought that if Remus changed into one of your white undershirts that it’ll help accentuate the purple tie.”

James really wishes he could stay properly angry at Lily for longer than a second at a time so that he can rebuke them for this little dress up game. But alas, he simply can not, so he’s only left to nod like a daft idiot at her explanation.

“And then I smelt rubbish and so I knew Sirius had returned.” Remus snarls.

“I smell like a fucking field of daisies!”

“Bet your trousers won’t smell that way after an entire night pantsless,” Remus sneers, and James silently reminds himself never to cross the scrappy bugger, (It’s always the quiet ones indeed).

“That’s not on Moony! I don’t want to have my bits out for show, everyone will be focussed on their magnificence over poor Jem and his little presenting gig.”

Heatedly, James tosses him the bird.

“Then give me back the essence!” Remus retorts caustically.

“Fine Lupin, you want to play it this way. Game on!” With one final, haughty harumph, Sirius dashes over to his own apartment and Remus only scoffs as he rounds back to the bedroom.

“What does that even mean! Absolutely nothing that’s what! Damn arse!” Remus grumbles to himself, slamming the door shut after Lily follows, still barefoot herself.

Discretely, James checks his watch once more, feeling a looming sense of dread once realizing that there’s only fifteen minutes left until they have to be out the door.

“Hiya Marcus,” James swings his head up so quickly that he swears he’s got vertigo, but at least Dorcas and Marlene look just as concerned from where they’re also gawking at Peter. “I just wanted to see if you were in town— Oh yeah, yeah. I thought I heard you on the back of that last video Mary posted.”

“Hang up Pettigrew!” Marlene hisses, trying to grab for the phone and is elbowed out the way for her trouble.

“Oh yeah, she did block e after the whole snag with me running over her cat. But you know how it is, making a fake account— Oh, erm I didn’t think it was that weird really.”

“Hang up Peter!” James yells, feeling absolutely hopeless. “Hang up the damn mobile!”

“I know plenty of people who do that! No need to get all shirty!” Peter hisses at Marcus, the color slowly draining out of his face. “No, no you don’t need to tell Maz, ’s not that serious!”

“I need a bloody shot.” Dorcas moans.

“What’s happened?” Remus asks from where he and Lily stroll out the bedroom, fully dressed thank god and both glancing over at a sweating Peter with concern.

“Mary’s surely going to getting a restraining order,” Marlene says with no context, shrinking back when the flat’s door opens once more to Sirius.

“You mad wanker,” James breathes out, not even having enough wits about him to shout. Sirius is standing there, absolutely drowning in countless sweaters pulled up over one another and sweat pants over sweat pants.

“What the bloody hell are you doing!” Remus screams.

“You take my pants, and I wear all your clothes Lupin,” Sirius grins glowingly, eyes glinting with pure mischief.

“You’re going to stretch them all out you absolute beast!”

“I’ve got to say Moons, your sweats are real comfortable without any pants, nice and soft.” Sirius does a forward lunge right then, wiggling around for good measure. So James really shouldn’t be surprised when Remus actually pounces, knocking him over to the ground.

“My money’s on Lupin, the scrappy bugger,” Marlene cackles.

“I can’t believe I did that,” Peter groans, slamming his head against the table, while Sirius and Remus continue to writhe on the ground like a pair of bloody mutts in heat.

“Get it together you plonkers! We need to leave in ten minutes!”

“He, oof, he took my essence!”

Sirius beams victoriously when he finally gets Remus beneath him and pulls up for breath, “You took my pants before I ever did that Lupin.”

“Because you’re a insufferable berk!” Remus hisses, wiggling around and canting forwards, both his and Sirius’s faces going suddenly red, and James shutters to think of what might’ve slid up against each other to elicit that response. Though his imagination is buoyed when Sirius suddenly rocks forwards in a very deliberate way, his head dipping down closer to Remus and it’s like instinct when their lips devour one another’s smolderingly, Remus’s hands fisted in Sirius’s hair, and Sirius’s own sliding around to cup his arse cheeks.

“Oh for bloody hell,” James snarls, absolutely fed up. He grabs the cup of discarded fat and pours it on the pair of them, making it so they both jump apart in a flash— panting breaths and flushed cheeked and both of the sporting obvious hard ons— even through the layers that Sirius has got on.

“You lot have got eight minutes and thirty five seconds to get it the bloody hell together, change into something respectable and then meet me downstairs,” James instructs, seething and brooking no arguments. “Now disperse damn it!”

They end up fifteen minutes late, and McGonagall just gives James a cool glance above her flute of wine as they scramble to the table, but it’s fine, because James gets to shake Ludo Bagman’s hand and everything while up on stage— Even if Remus and Sirius make a conspicuous retreat to the gents the moment he sits back down and don’t meet up with everyone until after the ceremony ends.

James repeats, bloody blunders.

MY OTHER WOLFSTAR FICS | BUY ME A COFFEE<3

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #JILY #REMUSXSIRIUS #SIRIUSXREMUS #LILY EVANS #JAMES POTTER #LILY EVANS POTTER #MARAUDERS #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #HARRY POTTER SERIES #TRULY A REBLOG IS LIKE GIVING A STAR #THANK YOU LOVES

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skellebonez · 3 years

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He's Been Hurt Enough (Monkie Kid Cursed AU Fanfic)

And here it is, the follow up to Stop Lying To Me! This went through an overall minor rewrite after @winterpower98 posted some more Cursed AU art and I think it turned out much better for it.

Quick note: once again this is my interpretation of a possible way the revelation could go. I decided to go with a “Mac told Sun everything while MK was transformed last time and that’s part of why he got the stuffing beat out of him and was out of commission last fic” angle. (also no I definitely did not accidently post a draft of the summary by itself when I meant to queue this, that totally did not happen(that happened))

Summary: Wukong has questions, Macaque surprisingly has answers, and MK... well, MK is going to be just fine if Macaque has anything to say about it.

Warnings: mild descriptions of healing inuries from the last fic, hint of child neglect if you are familiar with the AU, Macaque is sightly (incredibly) out of it due to medicine

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The first thing Macaque noticed when he came to was that his head felt... wobbly, despite the fact he was clearly laying down and not moving. The second thing he noticed was a disgustingly bitter sweet taste sticking to his tongue. The third thing he noticed was that he laying chest down on a (very small and familiar smelling) pile of clothes. The fourth thing, oh it was a lot of things coming very slowly right after the other which was odd, was that he was completely shirtless and that the only reason he noticed this so slowly was half of his body was almost fascinatingly numb, outside of the warmth of the fire that seemed to be burning in front of him. The last thing he noticed was a very close, also very familiar, and very angry (worried?) looking face of a monkey right in front of his (coincidentally blocking most of that fire light).

"Congratulations," Wukong said flatly. "You are officially not dead."

Macaque stared at the other monkey for a moment before attempting to speak, coughing as the dryness of his throat hit him full force. Before he could move himself, Wukong grabbed his face (gently, more gently than he remembered being touched by the other in so long) and held something to his lips. When he tilted the object and water began to hit his lips he opened his mouth and drank, Wukong never allowing the water to flow from the canteen fast enough to risk him choking on it. It must have been emptied after a short while because the Monkey King took it away faster than Macaque would have liked, but it had been more than enough to quench his thirst and allow him to clear his throat and begin talking. "What... happened?"

The angry (worryied?) look on the other's face deepened. "Should I start when I woke up to you bleeding out over my sucessor? Or should I start when I tried to give you medicine the first time you woke up and you shoved the entire thing in your mouth?"

Well. That second bit explained part of the numbness. And the taste. And possibly why his head felt like it was swimming in that iced cream stuff MK liked so much. He was almost certainly, no definitely, very out of it from whatever Wukong had intended to use to dull his pain. Fantastic.

Instead of voicing all of this he simply said "The... first part?" His voice was rough, but firmer than it had been the first time. He had not realized how almost slurred his words has originally sounded. Wukong' expression softened and. Oh... OH, it was a worried look after all. Huh. Macaque did not expect that. That was... well, not new. But he hadn't seen that in a long time. He... missed that. He didn't realize he had missed that.

"I woke up and I smelled... blood," Wukong started softly. "I was confused, I thought that maybe I hadn't been out for very long after we calmed down MK and you hadn't treated my wounds yet but," his hand went to his side where the bandages Macaque and the kid had carefully applied still held tight. "When I looked around I saw you. Laying face down with one arm over him. And you were just. Just COVERED in blood Macaque. I thought you two had been attacked, I didn't know what kind of demon could do that to you and thought that both of you were hurt." He ran a hand down his face, taking a deep breath, reaching over to prepare something behind him. "It wasn't until I rushed over that I realized that MK was passed out and aside from scratches on his arms you were the only one that was badly hurt."

There it was, the memory of what happened finally came back to him. Telling the kid the truth. The kid losing it. Holding him until he was able to fight back the transformation. The claws. The bite. His arm throbbed, the first not numb thing about his body he felt (though not fully painful), and he was surprised that he hadn't noticed his injured arm laying out in front of him until that moment, fully bandaged and (thankfully) not looking like he was missing a chunk of himself after all.

"MK's been out since I got up. You were completely unresponsive until early sundown, and when you did wake up you were in too much pain to tell me anything. I tried to get you to take some medicine but you grabbed my arm and shoved the entire bundle in our mouth. You passed back out before you could try to eat the salve I put on your wounds too. I'm amazed y-"

"I told him," Macaque interupted without prompting, and when Wuking spun around (too fast you idiot you're going to hurt yourself) with a wet cloth in hand he just let the words fall from his mouth. Why stop them? He had already told Wukong as much as he had told the kid, and the evidence of what had transpired was litterally all over him. Not much he could hide now. It was the exact opposite of what happened then, no more tar and honey returning. Bittersweet and if he were to give it flavor it would be buttercups. "After he passed out the first time I treated your wounds and when he woke up he helped me and then started asking questions..."

Without saying a word Wukong sat and listened, face tightening as he gingerly removed something from his back (gauze perhaps, he had no bandages on) and ran the cloth over numb cuts. He looked only between the wounds and Macaque's face, letting him retell every detail. "Kid tried to fight it but I just. I didn't know what to do when he started to change again so I... I..." He coughed, throat growing dry again.

This time Wukong stopped him, holding the canteen (not empty after all) to his lips again. They sat in silence for a moment, him drinking and Wukong turning to grab a container and fresh gauze and bandages when he stopped. He nodded, going back to the other monkey's back and Macaque realized the container was healing salve for his wounds. He didn't need it or the medicine, not really, but even with his fast healing and sturdyness it never hurt to have extra help to speed up the healing process. "You what, Macaque?"

"I... think I... hugged him into submission?" Macaque scowled, not sure if he even believed what he was saying and not missing the shocked look on the other's face. "And he bit me." He added quickly.

"He BIT you!?" The Monkey King leaned sideways, looking at Macaque increduously before his gaze veered over to his bandaged arm. "Well. That explains... the everything. Your back and arms looked like you were nearly gored from behind, but with how long his claws get when... yeah, that adds up."

"Is he ok?" The question came out without him even thinking about it. Damn medicine... But this only seemed to make Wukong shake his head with a surprised chuckle.

"Yeah, MK is fine. Exhausted, but fine. I treated his arms after I got your back to stop bleeding." He went back to applying the salve, touch a bit more firm as he rubbed it through his now less matted fur. The pressure would have normally made Macaque tense but now it just made him relax further into the clothes he was resting on (which he now noticed were Wukong's top layers and a blanket the kid insisted they each got at one of the many villages they passed through).

For a while the two remained silent, the Monkey King dressing the wounds on the Six Eared Macaque's back. Maybe it was the exhaustion kicking back in or something else, but Macaque just allowed himself to lay there and not think of anything. His mind tried to wander a bit, somewhat toward the kid and somewhat toward the odd reactions of the king, but nothing really stuck with his head swimming as it was. He only opened his eyes (when had he let them close?) when he felt a gentle touch on his arm. He watched as the bandages were unwrapped slowly and the same treatment given to his back was repeated.

"You're lucky he didn't bite your dominant arm," Wukong said softly, finally breaking the silence with a shakiness in his voice that was almost missed. "Or break your arm completely. You'll heal fine, but if you were anyone else you wouldn't even have an arm to treat right now...." He shook his head and under his breath he heard the king mutter "What were you thinking?"

Macaque looked away, gaze catching the still sleeping form of MK on the other side of the low fire. The kid would be exhausted from his second (almost) transformation in 24 hours for a while yet and that made his chest hurt just like before. He remembered the betrayal on his face, so much like and yet so much worse than when he betrayed him by stealing his powers. He remembered how the kid seemed to need the hug he had offered him so long ago at the start of all this as much as he did. He remembered how scared he looked at the prospect of seeing his parents again when he asked about them. And he remembered how much he kid laughed on this journey, how happy he seemed every time he was praised for even the smallest things, how he offered Macaque so much without asking for anything in return even before he put that stupid headband on the kid. He remembered how, despite everything... MK wasn't giving up on him...

He looked back at Wukong, grabbing his leg with as much strength as he could muster in his hurt arm until the other returned his gaze. "He's been hurt enough."

There was an understanding in Sun Wukong's eyes. For the first time in more years than Six Eared Macaque would admit... they understood each other completely without needing more words. MK had been hurt enough. They would take as much hurt away from him as they could.

The moment was broken when his grip weakened he closed his eyes, unable to stay open for as long as he would like, and when he opened them back up Wukong had already finished bandaging up his arm. He noticed a soft pressure around his tail but said nothing, not right now, and he only moved when there was a gentle tapping on his side. "Can you sit up a bit? I need to put on bandages, then you should get some more rest."

Macaque complied, using his good arm to raise himself up just enough for the other's arms to go under and around him to pass the bandages between hands (no, it was not a "almost hug" no matter what his tired brain told him). It was done sooner than expected and a gentle hand on his shoulder pushed him down into the soft fabric beneath him, his gaze fixed firmly on the soundly sleeping form of the kid as he watched to make sure he was really just sleeping.

If he noticed that there were soft claws running through his hair he said nothing. And if Wukong noticed the squeeze of a tail against his own he said nothing either. Eventually he let his eyes slip closed once more, feelin his chest rumble in a soft purr. The claws against his scalp stopped and there was a warmth after a while, a weight around him. Wukong must have laid a blanet over him, but the claws returned and their tails remained intertwined even as he moved to his other side. It wasn't until he felt a rumble beside him that wasn't his own that he realized the blanket was over both of them. He said nothing, not caring about the implications as he allowed himself to drift off into sleep.

And if he, maybe, dreamed of watching the two people he had reluctantly grown to care most about happy... well, he wouldn't say anything about that either.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #six eared macaque #sun wukong #mk #monkey king #cursed au #fanfic #fanfiction #shadowpeach #oh boy is there shadowpeach #we got angst AND fluff #but mostly angst

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avauntus · 2 years

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Welp, I Endwalked...

(This post is brought to you by the queue, by the way. This is nearly ten days after the expansion opened... lol)

I’m enjoying reading others’ reactions, so mine under the cut. Also, some general rambling thoughts on the ending, and how its writers managed to do things that I didn’t think were possible. (Ishikawa, bless and curse you! lol) Spoilers and images under the cut, fyi.

Two days ago, I paused right before the final trial. I have a habit of this...it’s part of playing a healer and not being very good at intuiting game mechanics if I can’t plan ahead. If I can’t stay alive, everybody else pretty reliably dies. If I misclick, well... You get the idea. I hate to waste 7 other people’s time, and I imagine frustration and anger beyond the other screens. Instead...

(I think you might have to click on that to see it, but the chat box. That’s the reactions post-trial. Toasts and “good games!” and “enjoy the finale, everybody!” Just...support. The other thing to point out is the timer-- we died our first attempt because we didn’t realize there was a mandatory mechanic in the last section until it killed us, the other healer DC’ed in the middle of our 2nd attempt, and between the length of the fight and our wait, this attempt was our last shot-- it would have been real tight if we even could have finished a fourth had we wiped again.)

The plot wraps up similarly in a very final fantasy fashion. Something I really appreciated- it made me happy/sad sigh, haha- was that while this is very “traditional FF” in the “time to yell at God hours!” it doesn’t lean into the nihilism of “your faith is a joke” the way these stories sometimes do. “What is the point of it all?” a character asks, and everything has been leading up to a reply that feels trite when summarized, but hits like a truck in the moment-- “We are, and you are. We answer that question for ourselves and show up to uplift each other time and again. That’s all it’s ever been.”

I’d read online that this expansion was meant to “finish the story that the game development team began with ‘A Realm Reborn’” (the original game’s re-release). That’s 10 years in the making, and I honestly went into this expansion with no expectations of it at all. To put it bluntly-- I thought that was marketing hype.

It isn’t.

Of course, this is an MMO, so it isn’t over-over. The game goes out of its way to telegraph that it wants to develop some future storylines. But everything we’ve been tracking on so far? The fate of the planet, the Ascians and their rejoinings, their god, the fate of the quest to save the people lost to the Final Days, the primals, Hydaelyn and the crystal, what it means to be the chosen one, The Warrior of Light? That’s all put to bed.

How do I feel about the ending? I’m still thinking about it-- it really gets its hooks in you, emotionally--

(damnit G’raha. If you had told me in 2014 that I would be real-life sobbing about this character, I would have thought you were legitimately insane.)

...and despite some real body-blows to the psyche...

...I feel OK about it, even though we all split up. Yes, the story ends. Really ends. My character and everyone else gets to return to the world and try to improve it in all the small, kind, generous ways we can for ourselves and everybody else. We have each other, no more mythical crystals or otherworldly heroics required...for now.

My character gets to log in and-- “then they lived for the rest of their days” and it feels earned. I’m actually excited about returning and pottering around doing whatever small tasks hit my fancy, just...live a (virtual) life because... that’s what we were fighting for, and we obtained it.

So how would I rank expansions now?

Shadowbringers / Endwalker, then Heavensward, then Stormblood, then ARR.

ShB introduces two of what might be my favorite FF characters ever (and judging from how EW plays out, I think I’m not alone there.) I started out the Crystarium plot line ready to toss the Crystal Exarch into a fire, and ended up ready to die for that world I had thought was filler content at the start. I agree with some commenters that ShB is a “tighter story,” but EW makes ShB (and all other FFXIV storylines before it) retrospectively about 200% better and concludes the story. Without ShB, EW would make no sense. They go together.

Heavensward is all “drama and angst,” but I will forever remember it fondly as my ‘entry point’ to the game as I started playing about 5 months before it was released. (Did I not understand the plot of HW until...uh 2020? Yes! Irrelevant!)

Stormblood has some high-highs, and some real slogs. Hein, I hope you achieve everything you desire, the Azim Steppe is a masterpiece, and Lyse...you tried.

ARR is lovely and of course starts everything off. It’s essential. It’s also 100+ hours of trying to determine if you should take seriously men in black robes and silly masks speaking pretentious Ren Faire English. So, y’know, mixed bag.

Some of my other favorite parts of this expansion:

Estinien, surprise contender for ‘most enjoyable goof.’

Garlemand and their radios. Slowly realizing the ruined part of the city was all that was left. (I kept...expecting another area to pop up with, you know, not devastation. Nope!)

Fandaniel ‘inviting you to dinner’ and Zenos upping the stakes, even temporarily. Real life yelling happening at my computer during this.

The introduction to the moon.

“Hello my old new friend.” (😢)

Urianger admitting it’s hard to open up...but appreciating us for being there for him.

“Why are you surprised? I told you this is only my duty. There is nothing left here for me.”

“Oh, you even made it taller.” “The better to indulge your flight of fancy, if I must.” “Well done, as always. And may I applaud your artful reinforcement?” (I love them. I love them.)

He’s so mad about everything I stand for, lol--

Everything about Elpis really. Especially the Trust and the cutscenes after. (Chills)

G’raha Tia showing us he remembers the Crystal Exarch.

Asahi showing up in the Underworld didn’t feel earned exactly, but I really laughed out loud when we had the game’s one sanctioned moment of pure, seething apathy between him and your party.

Hythlodaeus roasting Emet-Selch from beyond the grave.

Almost everything about Ultima Thule.

Realizing I was going to have to watch G’raha Tia decide its better to sacrifice himself again. 😭

‘In case it’s lost on you, you can summon your friends back now.’ (ahahaha. Of course Emet-Selch being sassy is the glue of the Universe.)

The Final Day, generally.

Ha! See G’raha?! That’s how it feels. Different when the shoe’s on the other foot, isn’t it?!

“So what’s next for our humble adventurer?”

The music, the music, the music 🤩

I really cannot believe this expansion. Man, what a flex.

#ffxiv #ffxiv endwalker #ffxiv endwalker spoilers #reaction post

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aaronstveit · 2 years

Note

Hello! First I wanted to say I love all your creations! I’m always curious about people’s creative process but I rarely ask them about it, I hope you don’t mind me bothering you with this ??! Do you make a list of sets/ideas and follow them or? You make a lot of sets, and all of them are so good, I wish I had this level of excellence and dedication in me. Also, do you ever gif something that isn’t very popular but you were really excited to gif it and looking forward to people seeing it and it just... flops? It’s been happening to me lately and I feel so stupid for keep creating only for myself... :( I know tumblr has been like this for a while, but I feel like the people who used to be interested in my creations aren’t anymore, and it honestly depresses me because it’s where I put my energy and creativity, you know? Anyway, keep creating, your sets make me smile❣️✨💌

hi anon !!!! first of all, thank you so so much for your kind words, you are such an angel !! you have made my entire day 💖 and i do not mind you asking at all, you're never bothering me!!

my creative process is probably a bit ~ chaotic ~ compared to others, but i don't mind sharing!! i very rarely make a list of sets i want to make. generally i get an idea and then it just sticks in my brain until i make it (this applies to every area of my life, not just giffing — if i think of something i want to write, or watch, or if i suddenly remember i have to vacuum, or if i think about cutting my hair, i literally can't stop thinking about it till i go through with it). a lot of my sets depend on what i've been watching recently; for instance, the now you see me gifset that i posted today was made in january after i watched that movie for the first time. also, i do post a lot of sets, but for the record, i do not make a set every day 😭 last year & the year before i had a habit of making sets and then leaving them in my drafts forever instead of posting them like a normal person, and eventually i ended up with nearly 100 sets in my drafts and i finally began queueing them to get them out into the world. because of that, i have been working through posting a backlog of edits for several months and i probably always will be 😭 so i have one gifset scheduled to post every day at the same time, and usually whatever set is posted was made a month or two before posting. right now i have an edit scheduled for every day up until april 9, so even if i go a week without making a single gif, i'm still way ahead of schedule. i just wanna explain that so nobody feels bad abt how long it takes them to make a set when i'm posting one every single day without fail — this is just the result of poor planning on my part, basically !!

also, yes, i have absolutely been there re: sets you love flopping :( i don't think any of my most recent sets have even cleared 100 notes which can be super discouraging. please don't feel stupid though, there is absolutely nothing wrong with creating for yourself. that's the main person you should be creating for! i know we all want people to love the things we make, and there is nothing wrong with that. but at the end of the day, the only person who truly needs to love what you've made is yourself. if you love something and you want to make a gifset or an edit for it, if you want to draw for it, or write for it, or even just talk about it, you should. even if your audience is just yourself. you should do what makes you happy! that's what tumblr & fandom are about! i know that for myself, when i stopped waiting for outside validation and just created for myself, that's when i became a lot happier with my experience on this website. that's a lot easier said than done, and there is truly nothing wrong with liking validation. but you can't let it be everything, you know?

i'm sending you lots and lots of love, anon. i hope you find more joy in your fandom experience soon 💖 i am always around to chat and you are always welcome to tag my in your creations 💛✨

#<3333 #thank you !!!#answered #love letters only💛#anonymous

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yeojaa · 4 years

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ANGELS & AIRWAVES (w. jjk)

He's never met you but you know how he sounds when he wakes up from a nap and his greatest fears. You know the way he sings after a shower and that he could be mistaken for a dying seal when he's laughing too hard. The best part? You don't judge him for any of it - including the fact he's a filthy Widow main. He might just love you.

alt summary. Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

pairing. jeon jungkook

genre + rating. fluffy crack. general, for now.

warning / tags. long-distance relationship, crushes, canon compliant (ish), eventual happy ending, gaming, gamer!jungkook, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, overwatch. tags are hard. :(

reading. n/a. a three part one-shot.

word count. ~2750

part ii.

JUNGKOOK’S ROOM Sunday, 15 March, 2020. 2:01 AM.

He falls for you in between the tireless teasing, the laughter that sinks into his ears and replays like a highlight reel. It happens when he leasts expects it, when he's got his face pressed into the velvet of Yeontan's fur and you're cooing over voice chat, whispering sweet nothings to the manic panic pup. It comes in the moments he's not expecting it to, when he's frustrated and unbearable and you're as sunny as always, spilling yellow paint across the doors he tries to keep shut.

Bit by bit, day by day, he finds himself thinking of you more.

First, it's wondering what you're doing while he's half-asleep and on his way to the studio. Do you look as tired as you sound? What colour is your hair and how does it stick up when you've just rolled out of bed? When you yawn, do you stretch like a cat? He thinks you do, if the sounds you make are any indication.

Then it's asking himself whether you might like the same things he does, from horror movies to carnival rides. Would you hold his hand as you made the drop, stomachs leaping into your throats? Would you scream? Would it sound anything like that terrified pterodactyl noise you make when you're spawn camped by a Roadhog? He doesn't consider the fact that he doesn't even know if you're in the same city and you'll likely never meet - bound to the servers of Overwatch only.

He thinks about all the things he'd like to do with you. Video game nights filled with butter-tipped fingers and spilled popcorn. Walks with your family dog - Natto - you'd told him about, all fluffy white fur and dark teddy bear eyes. Sunrises on the rooftop of his building, because you had the worst insomnia he'd ever seen and what better way to spend your endless waking hours than with him.

Jeon Jungkook knows he'll probably never get any of these things, but he lets himself daydream anyway.

Like now, for instance, as the two of you sit in another queue at 2 AM. You just woke up and you've got that tell-tale rattle in your lungs, words sluggish and lacking any real intent. He imagines you look the way you sound - tired and a little out of it, with barely opened eyes and sleep-loosened limbs.

"How'd you sleep?" He asks softly, crossing his legs beneath him and raising his arms high above his head in the same instance. The bones of his body realign, ridges of his spine clicking into place when he knots his fingers together and pulls taut.

"You know - the usual," you muse, apathetic. It's always the same.

He doesn't question it any further. He had once or twice, when you'd first started talking and he'd noticed the way you were always up at inhuman times. One grumbling response had told him enough - your schedule was what it was and no amount of remedying could fix it.

There's a beat of silence before he hears rustling and then the loud, inescapable sound of an electric toothbrush. You don't bother to mute your microphone, not that he minds. He simply sits quietly, scrolling through his phone as you go about your "morning" routine.

"How was your day?" You're settled back at your computer, he thinks. The acoustics sound far less like that of a bathroom.

"I had the day off, actually." He'd used it to edit some footage and record a cover. He hasn't posted it to Twitter yet - there were certain times he was supposed to, to maximize visibility - but he's excited for when he does. It's a song that's been stuck in his head for weeks, all thanks to you.

"Woah - you didn't work today?" There's genuine surprise in your question, rounded syllables that pop off your tongue in an explosion of shock.

“Right?” He laughs a little, short and sweet.

Despite his carefully crafted facade, there were certain plot points that just stuck, intrinsically weaved into his day-to-day whether he liked it or not.

His jam packed schedule, for instance.

To you, it’s the result of stretching himself too thin between teaching at his friend’s dance studio (where he also apparently moonlights as a personal trainer) and working as a videographer for his media-involved friends. Not that you know any of them. No, no. All the work he does is for the little guys - none of those big companies like BigHit or JYP. Jungkook’s just your average Joe behind the camera.

“What did you do all day then?” You’re still in awe, little flecks of wonder threaded throughout like glittering gold yarn.

“Hung out. Did some editing. I’m kind of behind.” That was an understatement. He’s working on footage from six months ago, trying to get it out before they head on tour and he won’t have the kind of time he has now.

“Probably spending too much time gaming.”

“Yeah, probably.” Not that he minds, or that he’d change it. He savours the time you spend together, even if it has kind of messed up his sleep schedule.

“Sorry not sorry,” you quip, seemingly reading his mind.

“You should be,” he retorts with laughter that builds in his stomach and echoes out of his chest. “I don’t think I’ve had a good night's sleep in weeks.”

If you hadn’t had this conversation a handful of times before, he thinks you might be offended. Instead, he can practically hear you roll your eyes - imagines your optic nerve nearly severs with the intensity of it - and grins.

“Don’t kid yourself - you know I’m the best thing about your nights!”

You’re not wrong. “You’ve been lied to.”

“I’m suing!”

“I’ll have my lawyer contact your lawyer.”

“Wait, what?”

The two of you have done what you always do - talked yourself into a tizzy that has you both laughing, sound crackling across the airwaves. It’s nonsensical and silly but it feels good. Your bond shines with it, glitters prettily between you.

Thank god for Overwatch.

You return the conversation to a semblance of normalcy first. “Did you listen to that song I sent?”

“Yeah.” The briefest pause. “It was terrible. Hated it.”

“Oh, shut up!”

“I’m kidding. It was really good.” Jungkook doesn’t tell you that he’s had it on repeat for the past few days, saved to the private playlist that’s filled with the rest of your song recommendations.

“I know!” You’re preening as if he’d just complimented you, clearly pleased by the praise. He supposes it’s a pretty good endorsement regardless.

“Got any more for me?”

“I should just make you a playlist.”

He ignores the way his heart skips a very real beat, mimics the erratic rhythm of his fingers on his keyboard. Because he’d absolutely love that.

“You should.”

“Really?” You sound uncertain but maybe - just maybe - a little hopeful. He might also just be imagining things, as he so often does with you.

“Yeah. Why not?” It comes nonchalantly despite the rushing in his ears, the wave that threatens to drown him. He can feel emotion in his chest - winged and distracting. A kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering away.

You’re quiet for another second. It feels like an eon. “Okay, yeah. I’ll start one and we can just add to it together.”

BIG HIT ENTERTAINMENT’S GYM Thursday, 26 March, 2020. 6:30 PM.

“You sound like a meathead,” you say, off-hand and disinterested.

He loathes the grunt that squeaks past his teeth as he gently returns the dumbbells to the floor. Cue a generous chug of water and a near death experience when the liquid goes down the wrong pipe.

Loud coughing crackles through his airpods before he’s addressing you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re grunting like a caveman.”

If your first comment hadn’t offended him, this one does. Jungkook scoffs, tonguing the interior of his cheek as his brow furrows. Weights are returned to his hands, rotated above each shoulder as he resumes another set of presses.

“Do you even workout anything other than your fingers?” He’s making a conscious effort not to make a sound, breath exhaled sharply through his nose. It’s harder than he cares to admit but he’s also not about to give you an excuse to tease him further. You already had way too much material.

“Don’t shame me!” You really don’t sound that indignant.

“So, I’m right? You’re a big couch potato who’s just jealous of my hot body?”

Now you’re incredulous. It’s one of his favourite sounds because it comes draped in laughter, dancing around his head in the form of cartoon hearts.

“Did you just say ‘hot body’, Jay?”

“Maybe I did. What of it?” He sniffs - he’s picked it up from you over the months - and your amusement doubles, giggles crashing into each other in their haste.

“You are so, so weird.” There’s a tenderness in your voice that he’d like to live in. It wraps him up like a hug, tugging at his feeble little heartstrings.

“Weird and hot.”

“You can’t just say that!”

“Why not?” If anything, you’re the one person he can say it to. With you, it’s the funniest joke he’s ever made. It’s playful and silly, with no rhyme or reason. He doesn’t have to worry about it being misconstrued or held against him.

“You just can’t! Only other people can say it.” You sigh dramatically, from your chest. “Do I have to teach you everything?”

“Everything but being healthy, probably.”

“Har har har.”

He can tell by how the words roll off your tongue, muffled and lacking clarity, that you’re eating. He wonders if you’ve made pancakes - you’d been complaining about craving them just two days ago. There are no tell-tale crunching or slurping, so he knows it isn’t your usual double whammy combo of ramyeon and Choco Boys.

“I’ll have you know I used to run.” Something about the way you say it makes him believe you, even though he wants to mock you a little more.

“In gym class doesn’t count.”

“I used to run with Natto, you ass!” Okay - so that actually sounded legitimate.

“Why don’t you still then?”

“There was an incident once.” You’re sipping on something - likely coffee with oat milk and two pumps of hazelnut syrup. It doesn’t matter that it’s dinner time and most people would be winding down for the evening. “Because of my insomnia, I’d run at odd hours. One day, some weirdo stopped me while I was running along the river. He didn’t hurt me or anything—” A part of him thinks you’re downplaying it but he says nothing, only waiting for you to continue. “—but he followed me home. I made the mistake of telling my parents and they freaked out so…”

“So no more running by yourself.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“I’d run with you.” It doesn’t mean much, but it’s the thought that counts.

“Thanks, Jay.”

Not for the first time, he wishes he could hear his name - his real name. Just once.

“JUNGKOOOOOOOOOOK.” It eats up every ounce of space of the gym, filling the room with the resounding boom of it. How it manages to be so loud, he’s not sure. He wishes it weren’t. There’s no way you haven’t heard it.

Especially not when it comes again, deafening even to his occupied ears.

“JUNGKOOOOK-AH!” Namjoon now, right as the double doors fly open.

Jimin’s barreling toward the alarmed maknae as he shouts. “WE’RE DOING A VLIVE!”

Jungkook feels like his insides are melting - his internal temperature spiking with embarrassment and worry and something that chants oh no! over and over in his head. The tops of his ears are burning, as is the column of his throat. A quick glance in the mirror confirms his suspicion that he is, indeed, bright tomato red.

“Jay?” You repeat once, twice, when he doesn’t immediately answer. “Everything okay?”

He moves with a speed he doesn’t expect, weights unceremoniously dropped on either side of him before he’s tearing his AirPods out. “I’ve got to go. Sorry!”

He doesn’t end the Discord call a moment too soon, Jimin upon him in the next instant. The smaller dancer is draping himself across Jungkook’s shoulders, the widest shit-eating grin on his pretty face.

“Want to join us for a VLive?”

“No. I’m busy.”

“Busy with your girlfriend?” Jimin’s wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. He only stops when Jungkook shifts aggressively, tearing himself out from underneath the other.

“Not my girlfriend!”

“But you wish she was!”

He can’t deny that, so he doesn’t bother, instead seizing his discarded weights with an embarrassed scowl permanently etched into the planes of his face. He’s reracking them - because god, he’s not an animal - when he notices Jimin making his departure, that teasing smile replaced with something soft and edging on concern.

“What’re you going to do when we’re on tour?”

Jungkook blanches then. You’d become such an undeniable part of his everyday life that he hadn’t even considered what it’d mean when he was busier than now, unable to spend late nights gaming with you.

But Jimn’s already gone, leaving him and his thoughts alone.

JUNGKOOK’S ROOM Friday, 27 March, 2020. 12:05 AM.

It’s close to midnight by the team he logs on. Realistically, he should go to sleep. He’s clean and worn out and his bed is calling to him like a siren at sea. But you’re sitting alone in the channel, streaming Overwatch for no one to see, and he can’t just leave it at that.

He needs to say goodnight, like he always does.

“Coming for my title as Headshot God?” The quip’s off his tongue before you have a chance to acknowledge him, your laughter the first thing he hears once he’s connected.

“I’ve been waiting in this queue for seven minutes. Seven!”

It’s really not that bad. The rare times you’d both queue for DPS were nearly double that.

“Patience is key,” he teases, slumping into his chair as he watches you click through your Hero Gallery. You’re cruising seemingly aimlessly, roving through the different skins for your mains (Mercy, Ana, Genji, Ashe). The silence between you is comfortable, interspersed only by the occasional munching he can only assume comes from the carrots you seem to inhale.

For all the junk you ate, you were somehow also weirdly into vegetables.

“Patience sucks,” you retort, matter-of-fact.

“You know what else sucks?”

It’s a rhetorical question and he knows you know, but because you’re you, you start listing things off just to get under his skin. “Spiders? Undercooked samgyupsal? Not having coffee? Your jokes?”

If he weren’t laughing so hard, he might’ve given you shit for making fun of his comedic genius. He really doesn’t understand how you think he’s the unfunny one when all you do is crack puns.

“I was actually going to say me,” he finally manages in between those high pitched cackles of his.

“Wait, why?” You’re used to him having witty comebacks.

Edge of enamel worries his bottom lip and Jungkook can taste cherry Chapstick and what would be bashfulness, if it had a flavour. “For earlier.”

You scoff, your own tinkling laughter tearing him out from inside his own head.

“It’s okay, goofball.”

He appreciates how laidback you are, never holding anything against him. Not even when he hangs up on you or accidentally spams you with memes when you’re trying (and failing) to sleep. “No. I’m sorry.” He says it earnestly, with all the meaning he can muster.

MATCH FOUND flickers across his and your screen and you’re loading into hero selection. He knows you’ll be too distracted once the game starts, so he’s grateful when you laugh again, sweet as summer.

“Nothing to be sorry about. Just tell me everything’s okay and we’re even.”

Inhale, exhale. Try not to tell her you have the biggest, stupidest crush on her, he tells himself.

“Everything’s okay.” And he means it when he says it, though they aren’t the words he wishes he could say.

“Good.”

You’ve chosen Genji, He smiles to himself when you join voice chat and the rest follow, greetings filtering in from your team members.

“Good luck.” You don’t need it. He still likes to say it.

“You have an early day tomorrow, right?” Leave it to you to remember his schedule even when he doesn’t.

“Yeah, pretty early.”

“Then go to bed! I’ll still be awake when you’re up.”

He lingers on that fact - holds it tightly in his hands so it can’t slip away. You’d be there in the morning, just like you always were. Knowing that stirs those same butterflies in his chest, words stolen by the overzealous beating of their wings.

You read his silence like they’re your own thoughts, “I’m always here for you, Jay.”

“Goodnight.”

"Sleep sweet."

notes. this chapter is set four-ish months following the first, in case that’s not clear. :)

tag list. @teawithbucky

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