#towards the end of the course we get tossed into the deep water fully dressed

[onionsaremeansstuff]

Arranged Love

Pairing: Mob!Castiel x reader

Gender: Male  

Summary: You were forced to marry on of the biggests mobsters in the town: Castiel, but, that doesn't mean he likes you 

I dont own the character or the gif

TW: sexual assault

Beta’d by  @chaoticgaysstuff​

The Novak family was one of the most notorious gangs in the City of Kansas. Dominated everything and everyone in this city. Everyone was afraid of that family, and there wasn't a single soul that didn't know about them, or the reputation they had. They made their name known with how dangerous they are along with the blood spilled and steel, purging all other mobsters in this city. 

But they still had enemies who could be just as dangerous and notorious as them and that was The Y/L/N Family, another gang in the neighborhood who was one of their rivals. Both families wanted the conflict between them to end, but both didn't want to be the one to submit to the other first. 

When they finally decided to come together and agree to settle everything that an idea was born. An agreement between the two families was reached to finally have peace with one another. 

The youngest child of the Novak family, Castiel would marry the daughter of the Y/L/N family who had yet to be born yet. 

Castiel was anything, but happy when he heard about the deal. After all, an arranged marriage would take away every ounce of his freedom, but he did want to end the conflict between both families. 

And it was definitely a shock to everyone when the child was finally born, a boy was born instead of a girl like everyone was expecting it to be. 

The tension in the room had risen considerably, but with the legalization of same-sex marriages, the agreement was still fully intact and still planned on having it. 

Castiel was pissed. Not only was he being forced to marry someone that he didn't even know, but he would have to marry a man. 

 Honestly, he thought about running away with his girlfriend and living in hiding for the rest of his life if he needs to. 

But, he knew that would be considered treason and the gang wouldn't think twice about killing him. 

He could only enjoy the next 18 years of freedom before Y/N turned 18, and they would have to get married. 

 Castiel already hated that poor boy. 

 -

 Y/N was only created for the sole purpose of marrying Castiel who he has never seen before in his entire life. 

He never really saw his parents a whole lot, and spent most of his time indoors, being taught how to cook and clean. 

 The few times he was allowed outside, he went to the park where he used to play when he was a kid, and can relax now as an adult. 

When the wedding had finally come, it was the first time that he would be meeting the famous Castiel. 

He has heard countless stories about the man. All good things and how handsome he was with the intention of making Y/N as submissive as possible. 

When he arrived at the altar, Castiel looked at him with hatred in his eyes that made Y/N flinch as the priest said that wedding vows they always said at weddings. 

You said the two famous words "I do" with a small kiss. Cheers and applauds ranged throughout the crowd. The rest of the party, you sat next to Castiel who really hated you. Everytime you tried to talk to him, he would sit there with his lips shut into a thin line. If there wasn't so much noise and you were outside, you bet crickets could be heard in the background. 

You moved into the Novak's mansion at the end of the party, and Castiel still refuses to speak to you, no matter how many times you have tried. 

The Novak's family came to properly meet you for the first time as Castiel left the room. 

 You were still being polite to everyone despite everything going on with Castiel and introduced yourself to everyone with a smille. Just how you were taught. 

Honestly, you hated all these stupid rules that you had to learn, but you didn't want to piss of anyone in the Novak family, especially now that you were living with them. 

You introduced yourself to Castiel's father and his brother, Gabriel who were the only two at the house at the time, so the introductions were very quick and soon, Gabriel offered to show to your room which you greatly accepted. 

He took you to the other side of this huge mansion, and stopped outside of a room with a very large golden door that looked fit for a king. He opened the door to reveal a huge bed in the center of the room. There were two desks with lamps on both sides of the bed with a small chair next to one of the windows. There was a door that led to the huge, shiny bathroom, and another that led to the walk-in closet that someone could practically live in. 

The room was nice, but you noticed how Castiel wasn't here. You were confused and asked Gabriel where he was. 

"The two of you won't be in the same room together. Castiel has asked to sleep alone." 

 You nodded, and didn't know why hearing that caused a feeling of sadness to wash over you, but it did.

 Of course he wouldn't want to be in the same room as you. The two of you didn't know each other. You both were practically strangers and it made sense that we wouldn't want to sleep with you. 

 But, all your life, you had heard stories about Castiel and kept being reminded over and over again that you were going to marry him. You couldn't help, but create a version in your head of what you imagined this man would be like. The version where you fell in love with him and everything was okay between you two. 

Gabriel said goodbye and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him as you threw yourself on the huge bed, and fell asleep in seconds. 

This was really your new life. 

---

 The next day after you moved in, their butler woke you up from your sleep to let you know that breakfast would be ready soon and to get ready. 

You got ready for the day, and headed towards the dining room soon after. 

Until you remembered that you didn't know where the fuck it was. 

 You were definitely lost in this huge mansion, walking from what felt like every damn hallway in this place. Seriously, how many hallways did they have? 

Suddenly, you felt someone place their hand on your shoulder. 

You turned around to see a tall man with green eyes, wearing what looked like clothes that just came out of the 20th century.

Ew, who dressed him? 

 "Who are you?" The man suddenly asked in a very deep voice. 

 "Y- Y/N." You stuttered out, feeling a little nervous. 

 "Oh, Castiel's husband," The man said, looking at you, "What are you doing in this part of the mansion? You shouldn't be here." 

"I don't mean to be here," You admitted, "I was just looking for the dining room." 

 "Oh, allow me to take you there." He held out his hand to you, which you gracefully took. 

 The man walked down endless corridors which felt like an eternity until he took you to a large room with a huge table and a large chandelier hanging over it. The rest of the members of the Novak family were already seated at the table. 

Everyone greeted you as you sat down in one of the chairs at the table. The man who took you there was about to leave the room. 

"Thank you." You thanked loudly and politely, as the man smiled at you and left the room. 

 You were looking around looking for Castiel when his father, Chuck noticed your gaze and told you that Castiel is usually late for breakfast all the time. 

 You started eating your food when Castiel entered the dining room. 

He changed out the clothes from last night and into other dressy clothes with a trench at 7 AM. 

You didn't understand why people in this place decided to wear what they were wearing. Their fashion sense was horrible and Castiel looked like an accountant. 

 Castiel ignored your good morning and sat far away from you at the table. 

You were silent for most of breakfast while one of Cas brothers spoke to you which you replied with one word answers, or gave a few nods. 

When Castiel was finished eating, he left the dining hall and you decided to follow him. 

You called out to him as you followed him, but he ignored you like always. 

 Once they were far away from the dining hall, he pushed you up against the hall, his hand wrapped around your throat. Not tight enough to hurt you, but enough to scare you. 

 "Shut the fuck up!" He snarled, staring at you in the eyes, "I want you to leave me alone. You destroyed my fucking life!"

"I-It's just that w-were married now, a-and I wanted t-to get to know you."

Castiel let out a dry laugh, "I don't give a fuck about us being married, or this shitty deal. You mean absolutely nothing to me, understand? Stop annoying me before I make you." He released you and went into his room.

You gasped for air once he released you, and rubbed the sore spot where he choked you, trying as hard as you can to stop tears from falling.

---

The following days at the mansion has been very boring.

You weren't allowed to go anywhere and when you tried to sneak out of the window, they were barred unfortunately.

Castiel's brothers were nice to you, but didn't try to befriend you, or even talk to you all that much.

More and more days have passed.

You spent your time walking around the house and reading books in their library.

Despite there being people here in this mansion, you honestly felt alone.

---

When nightfall came, you had trouble sleeping. Tossed and turned for most of the night and even closed your eyes tighter, hoping that you would fall asleep, but you just couldn't.

Guess insomnia was kicking in.

You let out a sigh before getting out of the bed, and deciding on getting a glass of water from the kitchen, but that wouldn't be an easy task due to the fact that this mansion was basically a maze.

Hell, you didn't even remember where the dining hall was which was near the kitchen.

"Y/N?" A voice said from behind you which caused you to turn around. Standing before you was the same man with green eyes who led you to the dining hall, "What are you doing up at this hour? It's 3 in the morning and you shouldn't be in this part of the house, again."

Well, I couldn't sleep, so I decided to get a drink of water, but I got lost." You replied, "Again." You added in which caused the man to let out a little laugh as he gestured for you to follow him.

Finally, the kitchen was insight.

You entered the large kitchen. The green eyed man took two cups out of the cup board, and a mug filled with water out of the refrigerator. He poured you and glass and handed it to you.

"Thanks, uh..." You trailed off, hoping that you could get his name since you didn't know it. 

"Michael." He introduced himself to you, and you froze when you heard his name. 

 This was Michael Novak. 

He was the most feared man in this city with his cold, calculating stare that could freeze anyone in their tracks with only a single look. Rumors had it that he would kill anyone who looked at him the wrong way and one time, someone accidentally bumped into him, not knowing who he was and went missing that same day. He was way more terrifying than his father. 

You were scared of this man from everything you heard.

Noticing the scared expression on your face, Michael laughed, placing a gentle kiss on the back of your hand, and all you could do was laugh along with him. 

"Gosh, I love that reaction when people know who I am," He exclaimed, "But, you can relax. They are just rumors. Well, some of them are true, but I'm not going to hurt you. You're family now, and I don't hurt my family." 

 You let out a sigh of relief, and relaxed a little bit though you were still cautious. 

Michael offered you a cookie and you really weren't sure where he got it from, but accepted it and hoped that it wasn't poisoned. 

"I wish Castiel thought that way." You muttered softly, hoping that Michael wouldn't hear you, but he did. 

 "Does he not think of you as family?" Michael asked curiously, "You? His husband." 

 You shook your head and told him about what's been going on. How Castiel has been ignoring you all the time and how you two sleep in separate rooms, and how much he hates you, but made sure to leave out the part about him choking you. 

Michael gave you a look of sympathy, a look you didn't think this man could ever give someone and wrapped his arms around you.

You were shocked by this, but relaxed into his arms. You didn't really hug very many people, but hugging this man felt good. Really good. 

"Don't worry, okay? My brother is..." Michael looked for the right words to say, "Well, he's complicated and has some problems, but it's not your fault. I can talk to you for him if you want." He offered, but you denied that offer. You didn't want to possibly make the situation worse by bringing his other family into it. You both stood there for a moment still wrapped in each other's arms, enjoying the peaceful silence before he broke it, "You should go back to your room now. I'll take you there." 

He took you back to your room and both said goodnight to one another. 

Thanks to that conversation you had, you managed to sleep peacefully. 

 ---

The next night was once again, another sleepless night. You decided to go back to the kitchen and actually remembered where it was this time. 

And Michael was also there. 

"Hey, little one. Couldn't sleep again?" He asked once he noticed your presence. 

 You mumbled a small yes under your breath and got a glass, and poured yourself some water. 

"I take it you have insomnia?" 

"That I do," You answered, "And it doesn't help that there's absolutely nothing to do here. Can't exercise, can't watch TV, I can't even go outside." 

Michael chuckled, "Well, the game room and the huge library is in the part of the mansion where you aren't allowed to enter along with the gym." He paused, "You're right. There's not much to do around here." 

"You got that right and why can't I enter that part of the house?" You questioned, "What's over there that I can't see?" 

"It's where we do business." He said, using air quotes around business, "Dad and I don't want you involved in any of this." 

You rolled your eyes, "I'm fine with hearing people get tortured if it means that I can watch some Netflix." You stated seriously which made him laugh. 

"I'm sorry to say this, but you still aren't allowed to go in that part of the house. But there's a TV in my room and I have the day off tomorrow. If you want, we can watch something together." He offered and you agreed to that offer without a second thought. 

"Thank you. You're saving me from dying of boredom in this place." He chucked before leaving you alone in the kitchen. 

---

Finally, breakfast was over and you could go watch TV with Michael today. 

He took you to his room and it was nothing like how you imagined. 

You imagined there would be guns planted on the walls with knives and other deadly weapons they used to kill people. A dark room with black wallpaper that would scream evil. 

Instead, it was a nice room with a huge bed in the middle and a TV on the other side of the room, across from the bed. A blue wallpaper and a couple of bean bags planted in the room. A lamp next to the TV along with a bookcase. 

It was nice. Basic, but nice nonetheless. 

There were pictures of his family on the walls. You looked over them, and one picture stood out to you. 

Someone who you didn't recognize.

"Who's the punk in this photo?" You pointed to the picture with a tall male who had a mohawk, green dye added in his hair. He was wearing a shirt that said "surf naked" and a pair of biker pants. 

Michael looked at the photo you pointed to before looking back at you, "We all go through some stages in life. It just had to be me who went through a punk phase." 

Your eyes widened upon disbelief. 

Michael, the most feared man in this city who wears such formal clothes on a daily basis, had gone through a punk phase? That's something that you weren't expecting. 

Before you knew it, you busted out laughing at the way he used to look. 

 "Hey! That's not funny!" 

 You let out another laugh, "Sorry."  

Looking through the other pictures, you saw pictures of his family from their younger years. Gabriel and Castiel when they were children and Chuck when he was a few years younger. Pictures of them at birthday parties and special occasions. 

 One photo really caught your eye and in that photo was Castiel himself. He looked to be a few years ago. Maybe about 6 years younger, standing next to a beautiful woman with pale skin and dark hair. 

"Who's the woman?" You asked, as Michael sighed. 

 "That's Meg. Castiel's ex fiance." 

Ex fiance, huh. You feel like you had a pretty good idea why they broke up, but needed to hear it first for confirmation. 

 "They broke up because of me, didn't they?" 

Michael sighed once again, "Yeah. But that was for the best, even though he didn't see it that way," Michael sat on the bed before he continued, "Meg was a very toxic person. She cheated on Castiel several times and only dated him because of his surname, but he loved her too much and always forgave her for everything that she did wrong. When it was time for you and him to get married,  my father forced her out of town and made her break up with Castiel, even though Castiel didn't want that to happen." 

Well, now you can kinda see why he hates you. He's in love with someone else and had to get married to a stranger. 

"So, that's why he hates me so much?" 

"Pretty much," Michael nodded, "But, you are a much better fit for him than her." 

"But, you don't even know me well enough to even know that." 

"I'm a pretty good judge of character, but enough talking about this. Let's watch something." He patted the spot on the bed next him, telling you to come over and sit down. You sat down next to him and you turned on the TV. 

You two spent all day watching TV and talked about everything and nothing. From your childhoods to stories that you both had endured to your favorite hobbies. 

 You found out that Michael loved Disney and that he was the oldest Novak along with being the funniest. 

Hanging out in Michael's room with him had become a routine for you both whenever he had the day off. 

Spending time with Michael made you forget all about your "husband" and the problems you had with him. 

But, he didn't forget about you.

 Castiel hated you with every fiber in his being for being the one to separate him from Meg, but he definitely found it weird that you kept going to Michael's room. 

 Were you and Michael in a secret relationship? Were you seriously cheating on him with his own brother? 

He felt jealousy coursing through his veins, but tried to push it down and ignore it. He doesn't like you, after all.

 But, he couldn't help but overhear the conversations that you and Michael have. How soothing your voice sounded, your intoxicating laugh, and those stories about your life. 

How the two of you were similar in a lot of things and how every single detail of your life seemed to be amazing. 

You definitely peaked his Interest. 

Soon, it wasn't just you who got excited when Michael had a day off from work. 

 ---

You quickly walked to Michael's room with a cup of coffee in one hand, and some pancakes in the other. The older man had a terrible habit of not eating, so you decided to make some food and bring it to him. 

When you knocked on the door, Michael opened it, dressed in a suit with an opened suitcase on his bed that he was putting clothes into. 

 "Oh, good morning, little one! Thanks for the food, but I have leave right now. I have to deal with some unfinished business." He grabbed his suitcase off the bed and walked over to you, kissing you on the forehead, "My key to the room is on the table and you can use it while I'm not here." He ran out of the room before you could say anything. 

A smile made its way onto your face. You had Michael's room all to yourself. 

You set the food and coffee down on the table and flopped onto his bed, reaching for the remote and turning on the TV. About a half hour later, your eyes started drooping and you ended up falling asleep.

 ---

 You woke up to the sound of someone opening the door. 

"Michael what the fuck are you-" Before the person could finish speaking, he noticed that it wasn't Michael in the room, but that you were in the room,     Y/N? What are you doing in Michael's room?"

 Castiel stood on the side of the bed, wearing that trench coat again. 

"Oh, Michael let me stay in his room." 

 Anger and jealousy could be shown on Castiel's face, "Get out of his room!"

"What? No! I can be in here if I want to be in here! Michael actually likes me and allows me to stay in here!" 

 "Well, why didn't you marry him then?!" 

"Oh, I wish I could've married someone amazing like Michael, and not to a spoiled playboy who gets pissed off because he can't marry his girlfriend!" You exclaimed, "You are pathetic Castiel!"

Castiel was so angry that he looked ready to kill. To kill you, and honestly you thought that he would, but he left the room instead and slammed the door shut.

You sighed and went back to watching your favorite movie, trying to ignore your husband's existence.

---

When dinner time came it was only you, Castiel, and Gabriel.

It was mostly silent. Gabriel had made some jokes which were funny, but none of you laughed.

Castiel was the first to leave and you left soon after, heading towards your room, but their butler stopped you.

"Master Y/N, you will be sleeping in Master Castiel's room from now on."

You froze, 'Oh, no. He's gonna kill me in my sleep.' You thought.

"Master Y/N? Are you okay?" The butler asked, trying to get your attention, "Please follow me to Master Castiel's living quarters."

You followed the butler to Castiel's room and he stopped outside of his room door.

"Here's his room and your belongings are all inside his room. Have a good day, Master Y/N." He said and walked down the hall.

You gulped before opening the door.

Castiel's room didn't look different from yours at all. The only thing that was different was the wallpaper.

Castiel was in the room and looked at you when you entered the room, but soon turned his attention back to his cell phone.

You approached the bed like you would approach a lion. Fearful and cautious.

"Lay down and don't make a sound." Castiel's deep voice demanded and slightly startled you.

You laid down on the bed with your back to Castiel, eyes staring at the wall.

It was still pretty early, but you wanted to sleep soon, afraid of what Castiel might do or say and you didn't want to be awake for that.

"Aren't you going to brush your teeth before bed?" Castiel questioned, poking you in the shoulder.

You got out of bed and went to the bathroom where you found your toothbrush and then brushed your teeth.

"Finished, happy now?"

He rolled his eyes, "No, I'm not happy now. Are you going to sleep in that outfit?" He pointed at the outfit you were currently wearing, "All your clothes are here and where did you get that hoodie?" He demanded to know.

"Michael gave it to me." You answered his question.

"Take it off now!"

"No!" You responded, pulling the hoodie closer to you.

"Take it off now, or I'll do it myself." He warned as he approached you.

"Over my dead body." You replied, and soon regretted it since he could make your death quick and painless.

Castiel took the hoodie off your body, and you let out a sigh of annoyance.

'What the fuck is his problem? It was just a hoodie!' You thought.

You didn't wear a shirt underneath, so you put your arms over your stomach as Castiel stared at your upper body.

"Stop looking at me and you don't deserve to see me without a shirt on." You told him, as he rolled his eyes and went to the closet, taking a white t-shirt and threw it at you.

He sat on the bed and started doing something on his phone.

The shirt was his and you honestly didn't want anything from him, but you just put on the shirt and laid on the bed, turning your back to him and hoped that he wouldn't kill you in your sleep.

---

You woke up in the middle of the night to hear Castiel grumbling about something.

"Michael... not... yours..." He murmured into his pillow.

"Sleeptalker. Great." You thought sarcastically, as you tried to go back to sleep, but Castiel's constant talking was making it pretty hard for you to do that.

"Y/N… mine." He said before going completely quiet.

You just ignored whatever came out of Castiel's mouth and went back to sleep, but was curious to know what he meant by saying that.

---

The following days were basically the same as the last. You would wake up, have breakfast, go to Michael's room and then go back to Castiel's room.

The two of you didn't speak to each other at all.

---

You were watching TV in Michael's room when the bedroom door opened. Michael stood there wearing those awful clothes. You hopped off the bed to give him a hug.

"Oh, hello Y/N." Michael greeted, hugging you back, "How are you?"

You told him about everything that has happened the week he has been gone and he talked a little about what he's been up to as well. Of course, Michael didn't say much at all. You told him how you were now sleeping in the room with his brother and you didn't know if there was an actual smile on Michael's face, or if that was your imagination.

"Master Michael and Master Y/N?" You heard the butler address you both before Michael allowed him to enter "Master Gabriel asked you both to get ready because you will be leaving shortly."

"Leaving? Where are we going?"

"Today is Gabriel's birthday and we are going to one of our family's nightclubs to celebrate." Michael explained to you and you left the room to change your clothes.

---

The club was very loud and noisy.

There were a lot of people you’ve never seen in your life, not that you’ve seen many people other than your family and the Novak's.

Michael was gone. He said that he had to resolve an unforeseen event, but you were sure he was just having sex with someone and he looked like he needed to release some sexual frustration.

You saw Michael as an older brother. Nothing more and nothing less. You really wanted him to meet someone and get some rest. He needed it.

Gabriel had disappeared with someone and Castiel was sitting in a chair with a girl on his lap, and they were obviously flirting with one another.

You felt pain, but made sure not to show it.

So, you decided to go to the bar on the other side of the club to get something to drink and to get away from them. You weren't old enough to drink yet, but no one will say no to a Novak. 

 You took your drink and went outside, and sat on the bench outside with a Martini in your hand. You were drinking it when you suddenly felt a hand touch your thigh, causing you to jump slightly. 

 You looked to your right to see an older man who was obviously drunk. 

"What's a pretty boy like you doing out here all alone?" He purred, rubbing his finger up and down your thigh. 

His breath smelled of alcohol and you tried to remove his hand from you, but he wouldn't budge. 

 "Dude, fuck off!" You yelled, and stood up, wanting to get away from this creep.  

 The man pushed you against the wall, putting a hand inside your pants with one hand squeezed your ass while trying to kiss you. 

 You tried to get this bigger man off of you, but he wouldn't go away. Then suddenly you felt the man being pulled away from you. 

 "Who the fuck do you think you are?" You heard someone's deep and opened your eyes to see Castiel holding the man by the throat "Who do you think you are to touch my fucking husband, you motherfucker?"

 Castiel dropped the man to the ground and pulled out his gun, aiming it at him, "Never step foot into this town again because if I see you here, I will kill you and that's a promise that I'll keep." He punched the man in the face, blood on his knuckles from the punch. 

  Castiel turned to face you who had a scared expression on his face, "Are you okay?" He asked, feeling concerned for your well-being. 

You didn't answer that question, still in shock from everything that had just  happened. 

"Come on. Let's go home." He took your hand and led you to his car. 

 ---

Castiel took you to his room and laid you on his bed, taking off his trench coat and putting over you. 

 "Do you want to talk about what happened today?" He asked softly, sitting next to you on the bed. 

 You just looked at him for a second before looking away. You felt Castiel's rubbing his finger over your jaw. 

 "It's okay now. He can't do anything to you, okay?" He spoke softly, "I won't let him. Michael won't let him. None of us will let him, okay?" He kissed you on the  forehead and was about to get up when you stopped him. 

 "Can you please stay?" You asked. You didn't know why, but you wanted Castiel to stay here with you. 

He was confused at first, but nodded and laid behind you with your back pressed against his chest. 

That's how the rest of the night happened. You wrapped in his arms in complete silence. 

 ---

 You woke up the next morning with Castiel's arms still wrapped around you. 

 You didn't want to leave because it was really comfortable being in his arms, but your moving caused Castiel to wake up. 

 "Good morning, Y/N." He greeted and you mumbled a good morning in return, "Let's eat something, shall we?"

 You stood up and got ready for the day, but before you left, you placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder. 

 "Thanks for saving me last night." You told him, and his only reply was pressing a kiss against your forehead. 

 "It was nothing and," He looked down at the floor before looking back at you, "I'm sorry for how I've been treating you. You didn't deserve to be treated that way." He apologized, and you accepted it. 

 He went to open the door but turned to look at you. 

 "Y/N, I..." He sighed, "I want to give us a chance." He spoke confidently. 

 Your eyes widened in shock, "What?" 

 "I was an asshole to you and I really don't deserve another chance, but I've watched you from afar these past few months and I'm ashamed to admit it, but I listened to you and Michael's conversations, and I started falling in love with you, even though I am one stubborn idiot and didn't want to admit it. When that asshole touched you yesterday, I couldn't hold it in anymore. I know that I don't deserve it, but can I-" Before he could finish you leaned over and kissed him. 

 "Okay, Castiel." You smiled at him and left the room. 

 You two sat next to each other at breakfast this time and Castiel gave you a huge smile. 

Gabriel and Michael were happy that you two are finally getting along together. 

 ---

"Come on, Y/N. We'll be late for our date!" Castiel said from downstairs at the mansion entrance. 

"It's not like someone is gonna take our place at the restaurant, Cas." You replied, walking down the stairs and kissing you on the cheek. "Lets go."

When Castiel opened the door, you saw a woman standing there with a kid in her hand. She was about to knock on the door before he opened it. 

"Hello Castiel." The woman greeted. 

You recognized her from somewhere, but couldn't place it until realization dawned on you. This was Meg, Castiel's ex fiance. 

"I need help with our son." 

In that moment, you felt your world stop and fall apart. 

#x male reader #castiel x male reader #castiel x reader #supernatural x male reader #supernatural x reader #castiel x male!reader #male reader #Misha Collins x male reader

[silver-tongued-bby]

You're Mine, Chapter 7

You’re the CEO of a groundbreaking drug company in Sweden with a work/life balance that’s more work than anything else. That is before you meet Loki, who turns your world on its head in the best of ways.

Set during the first Avengers movie. This work contains explicit content and BDSM.

Pairing: Dom!Loki x Sub!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, BDSM, dirty talk, oral sex (M receiving), bondage, spanking, fingering, anal play

Word Count: 4,440

Chapter Summary: You cook Loki dinner and he stops going so easy on you.

Author's Note: Chapter 7 already???? I'm thinking of closing most of the fic out next chapter but keeping it around for a few more prologues (particular kinks lol). I'm sorry I was late with this one- but I hope it was worth the wait. As always, your feedback is valued and I hope you enjoy!!

...

By the time the two of you slipped out of the bath it was well after sunset. You felt fully relaxed and refreshed. You changed into a comfortable pair of shorts and sweater while Loki conjured himself an outfit.

You led him into the kitchen, sitting him down at one of the stools at your countertop.

“Do you like Thai food?” You asked, turning to open the fridge.

“Of course,” you could hear the apprehension in his voice.

You smiled at him then brought out some chicken thighs, scallions, an egg and some Chinese broccoli, placing them on the counter. Bringing your eyes back to his you found him curiously watching you. “Is something wrong?”

He chuckled. “No- it’s just I think I can count on one hand the number of times someone’s cooked for me who wasn’t being paid in some way. Thor once tried to make stew while we were hunting Bilgesnipes but it did not end with something edible.”

“Hm- not sure what a Bilgesnipe is but I can assure you this will be edible.” You smiled at him, grabbing the wok from the cupboard.

“Do you cook?” You asked, filling a pot of water on the stove for the rice noodles.

“I’ve dabbled since coming to Midgard. I do love a good plate of breakfast meats,” he sounded thoughtful.

You laughed. “Good to hear we have at least one leg up on Asgard. Here,” you pushed a cutting board with the vegetables in front of him. “Can you chop these? And slice the scallions? Here’s a knife,” you handed him your nakiri.

He moved the knife, testing the weight and balance of it with his fingers. He nodded, then gave it a flip and went to work, finishing in seconds.

“Oh,” your mouth was open as you looked at the finely prepared vegetables then back up to him. You were starting to rethink your first and only rule.

He smiled, chuckling. “Knives are kind of my thing.”

“I see that…” you trailed off, eyeing his dextrous fingers as he held the knife, picturing him in the armour he had on last night, knife in hand… You swallowed, bringing your eyes back to his you knew by his mischievous grin that he could tell exactly what you were thinking.

“Um- sorry, right okay.” You composed yourself then brought everything over to the stove and mixed the sauce. You quickly assembled the dish, tossing the ingredients together in the wok.

You dished out two servings and brought them to the counter and settled in the stool beside him. He had topped up your wine glass already.

“Ta-da! Pad See Ew,” you motioned to his dish, grinning.

He smiled at you, picking up the chopsticks to take a bite. His eyes grew wide, “this is delicious.”

“Thank you, thank you,” you bowed slightly towards him before turning to eat the noodles in front of you. Fuck- it was delicious.

“Where did you learn to cook like this?” He asked, most of his bowl gone.

“The internet. I’m not going to lie to you- I only know three recipes. This one kept me alive in college.”

You soon fell into an easy conversation as you finished your meal.

“Well, I promise next time I’ll do the cooking,” he said, helping you clear up the dishes. “Though I did bring desert,” he said and pulled a plate full of petit fours out of thin air, placing it on the counter before you with a little wink.

“Impressive,” you mused, bringing the wine to the couch in the other room. The two of you settled side-by-side on the couch, looking out at the dark, frosty lake beyond.

“Do you miss New York?” Loki asked, stretching out on the couch, bringing his hand to lightly brush circles over your shoulder.

“Hmm, sometimes. Though Tony, my old boss, is around a lot so at times it feels like I’m still in New York working in his lab.” You decided then to let him in on the only thing you’d kept from him- your work for Stark Industries. It was only fair. If he could tell you about being an alien-god you could tell him about your postdoctoral experience.

“Are you two close?” His hand stopped its movement.

“In a working-friendship kind of way. He’s the primary shareholder of the company so he’s around often. He took me under his wing at Stark Industries.” You let the words sink in.

“You worked for Tony Stark,” he turned to you. “From what I’ve seen of the man he seems like quite the handful.” He gave you a grin.

You laughed, relieved. “Yes I’d have to agree with you there. Though he’s the one who pushed me to go to Elv. I hadn’t been out in ages.”

“I’ll have to give him my thanks,” he picked a langue de chat off the plate, popping it in his mouth.

“It would be fun to visit New York again, with you, someday,” you said gently, looking into his eyes.

“I’d love to,” he smiled at you.

“Speaking of Elv, you’ve told me what you’re not willing to try. Tell me älskling, what do you desire to explore?”

You licked your lips, growing nervous. You felt trapped by his stare, his eyes were daring you to answer. “Bondage,” you swallowed, “and discipline.”

“You want me to be harder on you, little one?” His hand moved from your shoulder to gently push your hair behind your ear.

You nodded, looking down at your hands.

He brought his hand under your chin, guiding your gaze back to his. His eyes were warm though there was a hint of mischief simmering beneath. “I can do that, my älskling. Is there anything else?”

An answer immediately came to you but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud. You lightly shook your head.

“It is not wise to lie to me,” his expression darkened with his tone.

You bit your lip. “Anal,” you whispered.

He tilted his head, surveying you. “We’ll have to train you for that, little one. Have you done it before?” He gently brushed your cheek with his thumb.

You shook your head. “Never, Sir.”

“I’ll take my time with you, älskling.” He stood. “Now, let’s have you change into something lovely so we can get started.”

He led you to your bedroom and into your closet. You brought out a few options, laying them delicately on the island of the walk-in. Your heart raced as he considered each option, his gaze flickering back up to you before motioning to the white Lise Charmel set. Without another glance he strode out of your closet, leaving you alone.

You shakily pulled your sweater off, marvelling at how quickly he changed from Loki to your Sir. He demanded complete submission with the way he carried himself and spoke to you, dressing you down with just a gaze. You took a deep breath and slid off the rest of your clothes before slipping on the soft white lace.

You slid the garter up your thigh and took a look in the mirror. Fixing your hair you took one last deep breath before stepping out of the closet.

You were surprised to find the room empty. You turned around, puzzled, before you felt his firm form behind you, his warm hands firmly grasping your waist.

“Such a lovely little thing,” his breath tickled the shell of your ear and you shivered. “My lovely little thing,” he was closer now and pressed his lips against your neck, just below your ear. You breathed in a shaky breath, the feeling of his tongue against the sensitive spot making your head spin. He snaked his hands away from your waist and pulled away from you to circle you slowly, his eyes tracing your heated skin.

“What should I do with you, hm?” His tone was lush, velvety, and dripping with sin as he continued to move around you with his hands behind his back. You felt like his prey, tangled up in his very essence, entranced before he consumed you entirely.

He stopped in front of you, an eyebrow raised. “I asked you a question, älskling.” His jaw was pronounced as he reprimanded you, the look of his aristocratic face set in a scowl sent waves of heat to your core and your heartbeat hammering in your chest.

“I’m- I’m not sure, Sir. I’m sorry,” you stammered, feeling very much exposed in front of his fully clothed form.

He stepped back, his knuckle against his chin as he studied you. “On your knees. Hands behind your back.”

Your thighs clenched together before you bent down on shaky knees, resting yourself on your heels, your hands gingerly placed behind your lower back.

He circled you once more, his eyes on the floor. He stopped suddenly and moved his hand in an upward motion, materialising emerald green ropes on the ground beside you. His eyes met yours, his expression momentarily gentle as he nodded your way, as if to confirm his actions.

You gave him the tiniest of nods and his jaw set once more. He snapped his fingers and motioned with his hands, each finger curling upwards as the ropes followed suit, coiling themselves around your limbs.

You sharply inhaled as they moved around you, the soft feel of the shibari rope gentle across your sensitive skin. The ropes fastened themselves around your arms, winding several times before tightening so that your upper arms were held firmly together. They wound themselves around your chest, the green bright against the white lace of your bra, then your shoulders, fastening together at your back. Your legs were bound similarly to your arms, the rope finding its way between your thighs, though your legs were kept separate.

Once the movement stopped you looked up at Loki with wide eyes, your mouth open to accommodate you accelerated breathing. Your chest heaved under you, the ropes tightening against your skin, constricting your breathing in the slightest. The rope pressed up against the lace delivered the most delicious burn.

He continued to circle you, his eyes darkening as they traced the curvature of your skin against the cords, accented by the white of your lingerie. “I’ll ask you again. What should I do with you?”

“I don’t know, Sir.” You said, both the fabric and the ropes between your legs dampening as you trembled.

“Wrong answer, älskling.” Suddenly he gripped your arm roughly to pull you up and threw you on the bed, face down. Your legs dangled off the edge and you lost track of his position within the room, disoriented by the movement. You stayed there for a few moments, listening to the sound of your breath, straining to hear something that’d give way to his position.

After a few moments of silence you felt the glide of his fingers against your bottom, gently caressing the skin. You let out a breath, feeling your muscles relax into his open palm as he laid it against you.

Suddenly he lifted his palm and struck it against you, a sharp slap ringing out in the silence of the room. Your muscles clenched at the sensation, naturally pulling away from the strike as a whimper left your lips. His hand was in your hair, gently tugging at your roots and you felt him over you.

“Two more,” he said against your ear, forcing a shudder through you. He bit the skin of your earlobe and you cried out, your hips pushing against him.

He ran his tongue over the spot before tugging more sharply on your hair. “And don’t you fucking move.”

Your slick was hot between your thighs and your arms flexed against the soft rope as you tried to focus on your breath, willing your body to stay still.

Pulling back he ran his hand gently over the skin of your other cheek before delivering a sharp slap. Your muscles clenched ever so slightly in response, your heart falling as you realised you’d failed to obey his simple command.

He was back against you, his strong hand gripping your bound wrist. He sharply bit on the skin by your pulse and you cried out loudly, the pleasure and pain overwhelming.

“Good girls listen, don’t they?” You could feel the depth of his voice vibrating against your back as he spoke the words.

“Yes- I’m sorry, Sir.” You got out, your voice sounding small.

He bit the spot again, this time sucking against it harshly between his lips. You cried out pitifully, the ache between your legs almost painful.

“You’re still at two more,” he licked the spot. “No moving this time, älskling. Be my good girl.”

You nodded. “Yes Sir.”

He moved back off of you and quickly brought his hand down. You held your breath, willing yourself to stay still. You let out the breath slowly and felt the slick between your legs dampening more and more of the lace and rope.

“There we go. So much easier when you listen, isn’t it?” His voice was sweet in your ear, making your heart swell with pride.

“Yes Sir.”

He ran his fingers between your legs, against your wet heat. You inhaled sharply, unsure if you were allowed to move. “Poor thing,” his velvety voice was above you still.

“So wet for me. One more, älskling.” He brought his hand back over your cheek, squeezing the flesh. “Then I’ll you’ll feel so much better.”

You shivered though just your teeth knocked together, the rest of your body holding still. His hand came down to give you the hardest spank yet, the skin aching in immediate protest. You swallowed the pain but welcomed the pleasure, coming in warm waves through your core.

“Now before I turn you around,” his hand gently ran along the ties binding your arms. “Take a deep breath älskling.”

You obeyed, filling your lungs with air before gently releasing the breath. He must have dematerialised your panties since you could feel his fingers tracing the skin of your backside. His touch left you momentarily, only to come back with some sort of cool slick covering them. He moved them along your tight hole and you relaxed into his touch.

“Good girl. This may feel cold,” he replaced his fingers with a small chilly object, running it against the sensitive skin of your anus. You whimpered at the sensation, both excited and nervous at the idea of what would happen next.

As he traced the object against your backside his lips came to press kisses against your shoulder, giving you a little nip with his teeth now and then. You were drunk with lust, your breaths slow and laboured.

“Breathe out and relax,” he commanded as his warm hand came to rest on your lower back. You did as you were told, your muscles releasing with his touch. He pushed the thing within you, and it stretched your hole momentarily before your muscles took it in, the top of it stopping on the outside of your body.

“There’s my älskling.” He tapped the end of the object and you whined, the sensation shooting waves of pleasure through you. You didn’t feel uncomfortably full yet you could feel something within you, warming up as it was exposed to the heat of your body.

He kissed the shell of your ear. “So tight yet you hold that so well. My lovely girl.” He gripped your hips and helped you up before spinning you around and throwing you down on the bed, facing him as he stood at the end of the bed. He moved to climb atop of you, his body caging you in as he brought himself over you.

His eyes searched yours for a moment before he bent his head, capturing your lips with his own. He licked along your bottom lip before dipping into your mouth. You moaned as you brought your lips around his tongue. He pulled back and bit your bottom lip between his teeth, marring the flesh slightly before letting you go. He smoothed his tongue over your lip then came away to study you once more.

He slipped his hand down towards your heat, taking his time to gently brush against your skin, the rope and the lace along the way. He ran the tips of his fingers along your slit and you gasped as your muscles clenched, the thing within you moving ever so slightly.

He dipped his fingers against your folds, the wetness of your skin allowing him to easily glide his digits against you. Your back arched against him on the bed, the ropes straining against your muscles with the movement. His eyes slid down from yours, watching the swell of your breast taut against the rope.

“Does my pretty thing want to cum? Poor älskling,” he dipped to kiss you, “I can feel how much your body craves me.”

“Y-yes please Sir. Please touch me,” you panted, his teasing almost too much.

He gave you a filthy grin and dipped a finger within you, then moved to bring in another. You could feel your walls clench around him, the toy in your backside pressing ever so slightly against his knuckles when he curved them to press the spot deep within you. The sensation caused you to cry out, and you pressed your nails into your palm to hold your orgasm at bay.

“Are you going to cum, älskling?” He spoke as his hungry eyes flickered from your face to your heaving chest, the white lace covering your flesh constricting against the ropes.

“Yes Sir- I’m about to,“ you were cut off when he slipped his fingers from you. Your eyes pleaded with his as you swallowed, your arms shaking as they propped you up against the bed.

“Only good girls get to cum,” he spoke firmly. “And you have not been a good girl today.” His jaw was pronounced as he hovered over you before moving off of you, leaving you to fall back against your bound arms on the bed.

You felt like crying, or screaming, or both but settled for a deep breath to compose yourself as you stared up at the ceiling.

He chuckled. “My pretty girl, so upset.”

You smiled pitifully, biting your lip hard as you shook your head. “I’m sorry Sir.”

He grabbed you by the ropes binding your chest, pulling you up to sit on the edge of the mattress. He brought his hand to your cheek, gently brushing his thumb against your heated skin. “What am I to do with you, hm?”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide. “May I show you how sorry I am Sir?” You licked your lips while your eyes traced the outline of his erection in his dark pants.

He kept brushing your cheek as he came closer, and you gently kissed his clothed thigh, your eyes never leaving his. His eyes were warm pools of blue-green, though once you kissed directly over his clothed member his expression darkened. You proceeded to give open-mouthed kisses over his hardened length, running your tongue against the fabric.

His eyes were heavy-lidded as he watched you before he gently brought you away from his thigh, unzipping his trousers and freeing himself. You marvelled at his member, the smooth skin of it making your mouth water. You bent to press a very delicate kiss against the tip of him, the skin ever so slightly red in its current state.

You kissed him again, this time swiping your tongue across the very tip of him and he inhaled sharply. You brought your eyes back up to his then opened and took him all in, his breath hitching as you did so. His skin felt divine against your tongue, salty with the smallest hint of juniper. You kept your lips pouted as you bobbed and ran your tongue along him, moaning ever so slightly when he was farther in.

You kept your throat relaxed and took even breaths through your nose as you moved over him with your mouth. Your eyes were wide, innocent, as you observed him, willing him to grab your head and use you as he pleased. His chest was heaving while he watched you, his hand coming around to the back of your head.

You moaned and pushed back against his hand. He took the hint and brought both hands to either side of your face and began moving you over his cock. You hummed, your core dripping wet over your thighs while he took his pleasure from you.

“Do you like being used, little one?” He rasped, his pace steady. You nodded, your head moving against his movements. He clenched his jaw as he looked down at you, a thick muscle in his neck visible from your angle. “Do you like it when I fuck your mouth, älskling?”

You moaned around him in response, your eyes watering as he continued to hit a particular spot in your throat. He pulled his length from your mouth, giving you a moment to collect yourself. You quickly dipped your head and bent forward, bringing one of his testicles in your mouth and gently sucking. You wished you had a recording of the surprised, strangled groan he made in response, you were pretty sure it was the first time you’d truly caught him off guard and it had you dripping with wet. You could feel it beginning to pool around the edge of the toy still within you.

You continued to lap and suck at his testicles, chancing a look up at him you were struck with his dark, hungry gaze. His hand came to your shoulder, swiftly pushing you away from him and pulling you up before turning you around and bringing you down onto the bed so your face was against the comforter. He brought a pillow under your hips so your backside was raised off of the bed.

You felt the bed dip between your legs then the hot heat of his length against your slit as he rubbed his tip against you, gathering wetness. He tsked, “not much of a punishment when you’re this wet, is it älskling?”

You whined in response but held yourself still, praying he’d realise you were being a good girl and would let you cum this time. Your thoughts were interrupted when he slowly pressed himself within you, the toy and his length hitting similar angles and spaces within you.

He bottomed out and pulled you up against him, the new angle of his cock within you pressing up against the toy in your backside. Now it was your turn to release a strangled moan at the sensation, the feeling of it all completely overwhelming you. With one arm across your ribs, under your breasts and the other against your throat he set a steady pace as he thrust into you. His hand roughly pushed the cup of the bra down and his finger moved to your nipple. He rolled it in-between his fingers, forcing a throaty moan from your lips.

“Please Sir,” you managed to get out between thrusts, “may I cum?”

His breath was hot against your neck as he kept moving within you. “Not yet, älskling. I can feel that you’re close, your cunt is gripping me so tightly. I can feel the toy I put in you against me, within your tight little hole. Does it feel good, älskling? Do you like being filled?”

You shuddered at the sound of his velvety voice in your ear. “Yes Sir, it feels so good- I feel so… So full,” your head was spinning with the combined sensations.

“Good. Do you want to cum on this cock for your Sir, little one?” His fingers were still playing with your nipple, while the others that remained wrapped around your neck were tightening slightly.

“Yes, Sir! Please- please let me cum for you,” you begged, your fingers growing numb behind you.

“Good girl. All right my älskling, you may cum,” he pinched your nipple hard, “now.” He sucked on the spot behind your ear and you came instantly, crying out as the combined feeling of it all overpowering you. You could feel yourself moving against him as wave after wave of pleasure came, intensified when he licked and bit the same spot on your neck.

“Good girl, ride it out. There’s my good girl,” he murmured against your skin, his pace unrelenting. You came down from your high and he pulled himself from you. The ties around your arms were suddenly gone and he turned you back around, laying you on the bed so you faced him, your back propped on the same pillow as before.

He settled himself on his knees between your legs and fisted his member, his eyes taking in your form. “Touch yourself for me, älskling.” He commanded, his eyes heavy lidded as he did the same.

You licked your lips, “yes Sir,” then moved your hand down to your folds, gently playing with your clit as you watched him. You moved your hand to your uncovered nipple and rolled it between your fingers as you continued to play with yourself, the sound of your breathing filling the room.

“Do you want me to cum on your chest?” He asked, his expression sinful.

“Yes Sir, please- please cum on me. Please cover me in your cum,” you squirmed at your words, you could feel another orgasm building quickly.

“Are you going to cum again, little one? Are you going to make yourself cum with me?” He rasped, you could tell he was close and that thought excited you even more.

“Yes Sir- fuck! I’m going to cum!” You whined, your pace even with his strokes.

“Good girl. Cum now- with me,” his voice was strained as he met his finish, thick ropes of cum shooting across your chest. Upon feeling the warmth of his release against your skin, marking you, you let go, your back arching off the bed slightly as your muscles constricted.

You both panted, fully spent, slowly coming back to yourselves. You smiled at him then looked down at your chest- the green rope still tied beautifully, with thick lines of cum across the green cords, white lace, and your skin. You lay back against the pillow and brought your eyes back to his. “I think this is the prettiest I’ve ever looked.”

He nodded. “Absolutely lovely,” he gently ran his fingers along your cheekbone. His eyes fell to your chest and darkened slightly. “And all mine.”

Chapter 8 here.

End Note: Happy Loki eve!!! When you rethink on your "first and only rule" it's the no knife play from Chapter 1. Stay tuned for Chapter 8- not sure if it'll be out Saturday as I'm hoping to update Summer Wine this week too and 3 chapters is a lot for me to get through. Love you all and thank you for reading!!

Taglist (open!):

@fuck-is-going-on

@thehornytitty

#dom!loki x sub!reader #dom!loki x you #dom!loki #dom!loki x you smut #loki x you smut #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #bd/sm fic #tom Hiddleston loki #mcu loki #loki mcu #loki fic

[nastybuckybarnes]

Joke’s on You

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky’s fuckboy tendencies get the better of him. But you show him you’re not gonna be tossed around like a toy. This time, he gets the shit end of the stick.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Smut, Fighting, Angst, 

Word Count: 4.3K

A/N: Okay fellas. Here she is. The third instalment of Gangsta. Now, this one can be read in the series or as a standalone. Based on Charlotte Lawerence’s ‘Joke’s on You’ (Both regular and acoustic.) and also on Love the Way you Lie obvi cause angst and toxic relationships hehe. I’ve got the next part almost fully written and lemme warn y’all, it’s a tearjerker. So good luck!

Gangsta

I see Red

Jokes On You

Habits (Coming soon)

~*~

“Hey, Steve.” He nods at you, arm resting on the back of the seat just behind your shoulders. “Waitin’ for him?” You nod, lips pursed as you cross your arms on the table.

The club is loud, music thumping under your feet and people chattering all around you. Your eyes scour the club, looking for James.

You feel Steve stiffen a moment before you find him, and then you realize why Steve reacted the way he did.

Bucky’s standing at the bar, flirting and chatting up a busty brunette waitress. You grind your teeth together, watching the way he looks her up and down.

“I’m sure he’s just being friendly?” Steve offers, cringing when you turn your glare on him.

“That’s the problem. If I ever get that friendly with a guy I’ll never hear the end of it. I fucking hate that this is such a double standard. I’m not gonna just sit around and watch him get with random bitches. Not anymore.” You make to stand up, halting when Steve grabs your hand.

“At least dance with me. Not someone that he’s gonna kill for no reason.” You ponder this, glancing over to your boyfriend once more and making your mind up quickly. The brunette is leaning in, her lips almost touching his face.

You grab Steve’s hand and haul him towards the dance floor, ignoring the way you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you. You spin around in Steve’s arms, pressing your back against his front and moving your hips against him.

He grips your waist, his head resting over your shoulder, lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear.

You slowly open your eyes, looking over to where Bucky’s sitting, his jaw clenched and his eyes focused on you.

The waitress is gone for the moment, but two glasses sit on the counter beside him, one of them stained with red lipstick.

He raises his eyebrows at you and you cock your head to the side before reaching over your shoulder and grabbing a handful of Steve’s hair. Bucky’s eyes flash a warning at him and you only roll your eyes in return, before tugging Steve’s head down and craning your neck back to smash your lips against his.

He’s stunned for a minute, before kissing you back with passion, his teeth grazing over your bottom lip. His hands trail up your body, cupping your breasts through the thin material of your dress and groping them roughly.

You pull away after a moment, panting hard. When you open your eye they immediately flicker to Bucky, a frown crossing your face when you see him once again talking to the brunette.

Huffing a frustrated breath, you tug out of Steve’s arms and strut over to the bar, smiling sweetly at your boyfriend.

He hardly glances at you, only giving you attention when you clear your throat.

“I uh... I should get back to my table,” the waitress says, smiling at Bucky before walking away. His eyes stay on her backside and you scoff.

“Really, James?” He shrugs, playing it cool when all he wants to do is bend you over the counter and fuck you until the only thing you remember is his name.

“Yeah. Maybe don’t come home tonight. She and I are really hitting it off. She’s got a tongue stud and said she’d let me see her nipple rings.”

You scoff again, shaking your head at him.

“Yeah, whatever. When you’re done being a prick let me know. I’m staying with Steve tonight. Maybe when you grow up a bit and can talk about whatever doubts you’re having about our relationship, then I’ll come home. But not before then.”

He watches you walk away, his heart aching and his mind racing. He doesn’t want to let you get away, but he has no choice. He can’t need you. He doesn’t want to need you. And yet here he is, needing you.

You walk up to Steve, your anger evident on your face.

“He being a dick again?” He asks, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Of fucking course he is! When is he not? God, sometimes I forget why we got together.” Steve chuckles, his hands holding your waist. “Because you guys are a match made in heaven? C’mon. I’ll take you home. I’m sure he’s just gonna get shitfaced then bum a ride from some poor defenceless college kid.” You nod, taking a deep breath but deciding that Steve’s probably right.

As you’re turning to the door, you see none other than your boyfriend leaving, one hand on the ass of the waitress as the two of them leave the club together.

“Jesus Christ he’s leaving with her,” you hiss, turning to glare at Steve.

“He’s an idiot. I’ll take you home.” You shake your head, determined to make a point.

“No. Take me to your place. He gets to go with a random bitch, fine. I’m going home with someone else too.” Steve sighs, knowing better than to argue with you when you’re in a mood like this.

The ride to his house is silent, the tension thick in the car as you stew in your anger.

Too many times has Bucky done this, pushed you away and fucked other girls, only to get mad at you whenever you attempt to do the same.

Fucking random guys would only get them killed, exactly how Steve said, however, Bucky cares too much about his best friend to kill him. Beat him to a pulp? Sure. But Bucky could never kill Steve.

As soon as you’re in Steve’s apartment you’re on him, mouth pressed tightly against his and hands pushing his jacket off of his shoulders. He pauses for a moment, pulling away to look at you carefully.

“Are you sure you wanna do this? You know he’s gonna find out.” You roll your eyes and step out of your dress, kicking it aside and standing bare in front of the blond.

“He can go fuck himself after fucking that waitress. If he does. And if he doesn't then he’ll finally know how I’ve felt all those times when he’s come home smelling like another woman.” Steve ponders this for a moment longer before grabbing you by the waist and pulling you tight against his body.

His kisses are fierce, all teeth and tongue and power and you allow yourself to get lost in the feeling. All thoughts of Bucky are shoved aside. He’s not a priority to you tonight.

No. The only thing on your mind is revenge.

And by God does Steve make it taste sweet.

~*~

Your head is pounding and you swear you feel like you’ve swallowed sand.

The sound of a door opening makes you pry your lids open, glancing over to the sound. Steve offers you a smile, a glass of water and a couple of pills in his hands.

You sit up and rub your face before grabbing the water and painkillers, downing them both quickly then groaning.

“Where’s my phone?” You croak, holding your hand out expectantly.

Steve hesitates and you feel the atmosphere change. You lift your head and look at him, brows drawn together.

“Give it to me now.” He sighs and pulls your phone out of his back pocket, tossing it over to you.

You catch it effortlessly, turning it on while your heart beats in your throat.

Your world crumbles slightly at the sight of your lock screen.

Zero notifications from him.

Not a text.

Not one single phone call.

Nothing.

You grind your teeth together and toss the blankets off of yourself, marching over to Steve’s dresser and grabbing a pair of his sweatpants and a t-shirt that’s at least two sizes too small for him.

“Give me your keys,” you demand, marching out of the room with murder on your mind.

Steve grabs your arm but you yank out of his grip.

“Think about what you’re doing before you do it, (Y/n). Please.” You take a few deep breaths then shake your head.

“I’m just gonna go talk to him. If he’s not serious about us then neither am I. I just want to see...” You trail off and Steve sighs, handing you the keys to his Ferrari.

“If you so much as scratch the paint I’ll-” “Yeah, yeah you’ll kill me I know. It’s fine I’ll just buy you a new one.”

You’re out the door before he can say anything else, keys jammed in the car’s ignition.

Steve would have a heart attack if he saw the way you were treating his baby.

And he would die on the spot if he saw the way you drove.

By the time you’re outside the apartment you and Bucky share, you’ve had some time to cool down.

That doesn't stop you from grabbing a knife out of the glove box though.

You hold it loosely in your dominant hand as you walk into the building then up through the elevator, the trip taking far more time than usual.

But then you’re outside of your apartment, ready to have a serious conversation about where the two of you stand with regards to your relationship.

You unlock the door and push your way into the apartment, stopping right in the doorway when you see not one but two people in your home.

A piece of your heart shatters and any semblance of composure is left a step behind you.

Bucky looks like a deer in headlights, his mind foggy, but yours is working just as well as it usually does, if not better.

The waitress from the night before stands before you in your boyfriend’s shirt, a confused look on her face.

You hold the knife tighter in your grasp and pounce, the blade just nicking her throat before Bucky yanks her out of the way.

She lets out a terrified scream, stumbling to the ground and scrambling away from you.

Before you can get her again Bucky’s got your arms pinned to your sides, his metal arm holding tightly to the arm that has the knife.

“Grace, you should probably leave,” He says softly, his eyes focused on the look of pure betrayal on your face.

The waitress gets up and gathers her things quickly, her eyes on you.

You eye her with nothing but pure hatred in your gaze, straining against his hold.

He doesn’t loosen his grip until she’s safely out the door, only then does he let you go.

But what a mistake.

Your anger is now directed at him and you swipe your blade up at him, catching the apple of his cheek and leaving an angry red slice across his pretty face.

“Fuck!” He jumps back, one hand coming up to the wound while the other extends defensively in front of himself.

You don’t follow him like he thought you would. No, instead you toss the knife aside and turn away from him.

He’s utterly confused at your behaviour. It’s not like anything you’ve ever done before.

He was prepared for anger, for wrath like no other. But this? This is new territory and he hates that.

You pour yourself a glass of whiskey and bring it over to the couch, plopping down and grabbing your phone out of your pocket. Bucky approaches you slowly as if you’re an animal ready to lash out at any moment. But you don’t.

“Baby?”  He asks softly, waiting for the anger.

But he gets nothing in reply.

“I’d be using my time more wisely if I were you,” you say stoically, eyes on your phone as you fight tears.

“W-what do you mean?” He’s never felt genuine fear for his life before now.

“You have twenty-eight minutes left to get your shit and get out. Whatever’s left after that is getting burned. If you’re still here then you will also be on that list of things that will be getting burned.”

He’s shocked.

“What do you mean?” He repeats, taking a few hesitant steps closer to your figure. The way that you stay so unbothered, eyes on your phone as if he means nothing to you, it’s beyond concerning.

“I’m not going to repeat myself. It’s up to you if you want to take me seriously or not.” He’s not sure what to do, but he knows that he pushed you too far, if only from the way that you don’t give a single fuck about him.

“I-I’m sorry,” he tries, voice low and hands raised in surrender and fear, hoping to appeal to your human side.

Unfortunately for him, your human side is long gone.

“Mhm,” is all you say in reply, taking another sip of your drink and trying to remember where you keep the propane.

He starts moving then, packing up a bag that’s enough to last him a few days. He’s not sure if he should believe that you’ll actually burn his things, but he grabs all his valuables just in case.

The remaining twenty-five minutes go by far too quickly, and then he’s standing at the door, watching you rise to your feet with the utmost grace.

He watches as you start gathering up little knickknacks, stray socks and books of his, a bunch of pictures, a set of ridiculously expensive champagne glasses, and the necklace he got you for your last birthday. You toss it all into a cardboard box then head into the next room to gather more things.

His curiosity and want to preserve what little he can of the relationship gets the better of him and he hesitantly creeps his way over to the box, grabbing the pictures and the necklace.

A bullet narrowly misses his hand and he almost drops his belongings in his haste to get out of the line of fire, but you’ve got the barrel pointed directly at him again, finger hovering dangerously over the trigger.

“I told you: half an hour. You’re done. Get out. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.” He says nothing. Instead, he grabs his belongings and leaves without so much as a second glance.

~*~

“Have you tried talking to her? She seemed pretty pissed when she left my place.” Bucky glares at his friend, “You fucking asshole, don’t even try to give me advice, you’re the one who ruined this in the first place.”

Steve raises his brows and downs his scotch then actually laughs at his friend, the sound getting slightly drowned out by the noises in the bar

“Do I need to remind you who left the club first? You took that waitress home before (Y/n) and I even left. That’s the only reason I took her home. She would’ve fucked anybody in that club and then you would’ve gone and made a mess that I would’ve had to clean up. I took her home cause you and I both know I’ll take good care of her and won’t treat her like shit. She deserves the world, Buck, and you treat her like a piece of garbage.”

The brunet is silent as his friend tells him what he knows is true but really just doesn’t want to accept.

“That woman loves you, Buck. To the moon and back. With her whole fucking heart and soul and you stomp on it every damn chance you get. If she wasn’t so damn in love with you, I’d take her out. Wine and dine her real nice, just how she deserves. I’d show her what it’s like to be loved.”

The glass shatters in the brunet’s hand as he listens to his best friend talk about the way he’d treat the woman he loves.

“I get it! I’m a fucking idiot. I’ll go talk to her.” He drops a couple of bills on the table then marches out of the bar, trying to keep his composure and his confidence on the drive to the apartment.

He’s not sure what he’s going to say, but he knows he needs to apologize. He needs to tell you that he loves you and that you’re the only one he wants.

Hesitant knuckles knock against the door and he feels stupid. It’s his place too.

When he gets no reply he pushes the door open, his stomach dropping and his heart clenching tight in his chest.

It’s empty.

No furniture, no decorations, and not one single sign of you.

“(Y/n)?!” He calls, hand darting to the gun tucked into his pants as he explores the empty penthouse.

“(Y/n)?” His voice is softer but more desperate, the reality of the situation hitting him like a punch in the gut.

You’re gone.

He lost you. And he’s not sure if he’s gonna be able to get you back.

~*~

You shoulder your way into the tiny shithole that you’re calling home, brows drawn together and shoulders heavy with exhaustion.

“Love the new place.” You’ve got a gun raised and aimed at the voice, heart racing in your chest at the fact that you didn’t even realize they were here.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You demand, not lowering your weapon as you walk into the living room.

He’s seated on the couch, eyes staring straight through the window across from him.

“You left,” is all he says.

You want to scoff.

Scratch that; you want to shout. To yell and scream and beat him to a bloody pulp. You want to ask him why. Why he hurt you so badly and why he acts like he did nothing.

Instead, you walk past him and set your gun on the table.

“Why did you leave?” His voice is closer than before, his feet silent as they carry him towards you. You’re in your bedroom, raking your hands through your hair as you try to handle the situation.

“Why?” He asks again, two metal fingers just hardly brushing against your bicep. You yank yourself away from him, eyes full of rage and betrayal as you glare at him.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch me! You have no fucking right!” He takes a moment to look you over, a frown on his face as he sees how upset you are.

This isn’t how this usually goes. Usually, the two of you shout and scream at each other, then fuck all the anger out.

But not this time.

No, this time it’s different. Because there’s more than just anger on your face.

The look of pain, of absolute agony on your face, has his heart shattering in his chest.

“Doll... I’ll never be able to apologize for what I did. I just...”  “You just what, Bucky?” You never call him that. Exhaustion laces your voice and your shoulders slump forward.

“You just what? You wanted to hurt me again? Well congrats, you did a great job. Now please leave. I don't want to see you. Not now and not ever fucking again.” He shakes his head as you turn away from him again.

“No, no you don’t mean that. We’re good together. We’re so fucking good together. You’re the Lois Lane to my Superman. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

His words are dripping with desperation and truth. He’s scared, terrified that this is the end. But he’s talked you back before, he can do it again.

“I’ve been hurt before, Buck. And when I saw... that... it felt like there was a knife in my fucking throat. Like someone was stabbing me in the chest and in the back all at the same time. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t fight. And you know what? I’m done fighting. I’m done fighting you, I’m done fighting for you and, I’m so fucking done fighting for us. It’s not worth it anymore.”

He shakes his head but you continue, not giving him a moment to speak.

“We’re not good together. We’re toxic. We’re so fucking toxic but you love it. You love that I hate you because I always come crawling back. You never let me leave, you’ve never ever told me you loved me. It’s always been me. I was the only one who ever tried to salvage our relationship and I’m done doing that.”

He shakes his head, swallowing the sorrow and bile in his throat at the way your voice breaks, the way you crack and splinter and shatter right before his very own eyes.

And it’s his fault. He caused this. He's the one who hurt you.

“Doll I love you. So fucking much. I feel so fucking ashamed for everything I’ve done and the way that I’ve acted.” You scoff, shaking your head at him, “as you fucking should. I’m not going to comfort you. You see me crumbling, see me in pain, and all you've ever done is stand by and watch the show. I won’t let you. Not anymore.”

You sniffle and scrub a tear off of your cheek, your voice shaking as you start speaking again.

“I love you. So much that I can fucking hardly breathe when I’m with you. And when I fell in love with you... it hit me out of the blue. Out of fucking nowhere. I never wanted t-to hurt you or to make you upset. Now I can’t even look at you. You said you’d be my ride or die but you have never been there when I’ve needed you.”

His eyes are red-rimmed and his heart is in his stomach. This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.

“B-But I can change. Just give me another chance, please, doll. I swear things will be different this time.”

You shake your head angrily, furious that you’re having to have this conversation with him.

“No! You don’t get it! You don’t get another chance, this isn’t a game! You lied again and now you’re going to fucking watch me walk out of your life and I’m not going to fucking look back!”

“Baby, please. Just... I just... I need you so much. I know I wasn’t there for you and I know it wasn’t you and it was me but your temper’s just as bad as mine is and we’re both stubborn as hell and so fucking crazy. Our relationship isn’t as bad as it seems and I love you too much for you to walk away. Come home, we can try again.”

You’re crying now, arms crossed tightly over your chest in a pathetic attempt at protecting yourself

“You’re a broken record, Bucky. Playing the same damn thing over and over again. You don’t mean a word you’re saying.”

He winds up and his fist slams into the wall, a large hole gaping in the drywall.

There goes your damage deposit.

Tears are streaking down his face and his chest is heaving as emotions wrack through his body, tearing him limb from limb and setting him on fire.

“You’re not even listening to me! Don't you hear the sincerity in my voice! I told you this was my fault! I know it’s all my fault! Next time-”

“Next time?!” You actually laugh, though the two of you know there’s no humour behind it. “You don’t get a ‘next time’! We’re done! We’re fucking done!”

“No! You’re not listening to me! All I want is to have you back home! I’m tired of these fucking games! Come home!”

He reaches for you, hands grasping your waist, and you shimmy out of his grip and back up in the bedroom, absolutely fuming at the audacity this man has.

“This isn’t a fucking game, James! If you ever come near me again I will tie you to that fucking bed and set this place on fire! I will show you exactly how you’ve made me felt and by the end of it you’ll be begging me to kill you!”

The two of you stand facing off with each other, tears falling and eyes narrowed, but you won’t give in.

Not this time.

After a few very long minutes his shoulders sag and his entire demeanour changes as he accepts defeat. As he realizes that you’re not giving in this time.

He lost.

He lost you.

“Alright. If that’s what you want, fine.” He turns around and walks towards the front door, each step sending a sharp fiery pain through his chest.

He hesitates when he gets to the door, eyes squeezed shut as he waits, hopes, and prays for you to stop him.

But you say nothing. You only watch him, wait for him to leave and take all his lies and deceit away.

He pulls the door open, steps through, and turns around, red eyes focused solely on you.

You muster up your courage and take calculated steps through the apartment towards the front door.

His heart jumps up into his throat, lips parting to apologize and to thank you for giving him another chance, but he doesn’t get a word out.

No, you close the door in his face and leave him standing alone on the other side, your decision having been made.

His movements are mechanical as he makes his way to his car, keys in the ignition and foot on the gas.

It can’t be real.

It can’t be.

He finds himself back in your old apartment, eyes on the absolute nothingness, a perfect representation of your relationship.

A strangled sob leaves his lips, and then another one. And another until they’re consuming him and he’s on the floor, unable to breathe or move.

No, he curls up in the fetal position, hunched in on himself, and screams your name. He curses himself, his friends, his stupidity.

He deserves this. He knows that.

He’s a lost cause.

Loving him was a mistake on your part.

But that doesn’t make the hurt go away.

Fuck, he wants the hurt to go away.

#bucky x reader #bucky x reader dark fic #bucky x reader dark au #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky/reader #bucky/you #dark au #dark fic #bucky smut #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader angst #Bucky Barnes angst #Steve Rogers x reader smut #Steve Rogers x reader angst #Bucky Barnes fanfiction

[dracosaurusrex]

Hello there! I was wondering if you vould do a draco x reader headcanon in their first date on Hogsmeade? Thanks love xx

With You (Headcanon)

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Genre: FLuff, and lots of it.

Hi there nonnie! Thank you so much for requesting!!! I hope you enjoy the fluff!

It was incredibly easy to be nervous around Draco Malfoy; you’d fall apart over the smallest things

the way he ran his fingers through his hair

the way he smirks at you teasingly

his eyes softening soon after

You fully accepted yourself falling head over heels for him when you realized that the mere sight of his handwriting was enough to get you going. 

If you got nervous over all these things, what more now that you’ll be going on a date with him?

Unbeknownst to you, he felt the exact same way. Maybe even worse than you.

A softie hid under his cold-hearted mask

Saved it for you

Just for you

He thought you were brilliant.

Patient, kind, intelligent

Beautiful.

You were half-blooded, and while it bothered him at first, interacting with your infectious personality made it hard to resist the fall

It took a while to reach his good side, but you managed to do so with much persistence.

Not out of desperation or anything

Just by being yourself every time he was around

Draco found that very attractive

-🌻-

If there’s something that Narcissa taught him, it’s to never settle for less

He took that to heart with his appearance.

He wanted to look real good in front of you

He wanted to see the way your eyes would sparkle whenever they landed on him

Draco would go through all of his clothes to curate the perfect outfit for your date.

Every thing he didn’t approve of would be tossed to the ever growing mountain on top of his bed

Once satisfied, he’d take a good look in the mirror

Starts thinking up of random scenarios 

Practicing responses to things that you’d say

While doing so, his heart skips a beat at the thought of you

He wanted to make a good impression on you, because he knew what others said about him 

Notices that he hasn’t done his hair yet, and the time was drawing closer for you to meet.

Scrambles everywhere for his tie pin.

Frantically slides his ring onto his finger

Ruffles his hair until it’s parted in a fashion that has him satisfied

Meanwhile, you’re wrecked with nerves and excitement, but it isn’t as bad as Draco 

You’re more worried about what you were going to wear

Your clothing selection is pretty limited, so you go for the one you think you look the prettiest in.

You select a nice looking, cream colored, casual dress, which ends mid-thigh

Hair tied with a light green ribbon into a low pony

Light makeup

You’re satisfied with the way you look (ensuring that your opinion came first), however there’s a little bit of hope he finds you pretty

-🌻-

Draco waits for you in the courtyard, sitting on the edge of the fountain

His knee bounces up and down

Hands are clammy

Struggles to keep his heart rate normal

You take deep breaths as you make your way to meet him

Once you see the light entering from the courtyards, you place your palm over your heart. You’re about to see him in a couple of seconds.

When the sight of platinum blonde comes into view, you can’t hold in your smile any longer

He’s breathtaking

But he makes you feel under dressed

asdfgdfajlhf

Sports a suit like he always does

But this time it’s more...fitted

The school uniform does no justice to his broad shoulders and his lean physique NOPE

thank godric for quidditch

Shy, flirtatious smiles are shared when he sees you, and boy are you a sight for sore eyes

You might’ve felt you were underdressed, but at that point Draco was certain that you looked good in everything

Heart are aflutter

He finds it difficult to contain his smile.

It’s so obvious you’re nervous, and it makes him relieved that it isn’t just him

When you draw closer, he stands, extending his arms slightly to you.

A hug.

A hug.

A hug.

It was electrifying feeling his arms wrap around your waist for the first time

“You’re really,” he’s at a loss for words, “Wow. You look lovely.” 

It’s out of character from him, but you enjoy it thoroughly.

“You look very handsome yourself.”

Him reaching to interlock his fingers with yours

More electricity

He didn’t care if people saw, and that only reassured your feelings for him

-🌻-

Hogsmeade’s cozy atmosphere did well to nurture the events for the evening.

You two decide to test the waters throughout the course of the date

Holding hands

Him wrapping his arm around your waist as you walked 

You returning the action

Small squeezes = lots of sparks

At one point while you’re window shopping, the boy takes initiative to wrap his other arm around you, linking his hands together in front of you from behind

He props his chin on your shoulder

You feel his breath brushing your ear

Back hug, back hug, back hug

His excuse for the closeness being, “I just wanted to see what you were looking at.”

You biting your lip to suppress the smile

To his surprise, you proceed to weave your fingers into his

Relaxing in his grasp.

He likes it. A lot.

The older passersby look at you both with adoration

“It must be nice to be young.”

Blushes, blushes, blushes

Nervous laughs and even more nervous touches

-🌻-

Draco, having the moola, constantly offers to buy you everything that piques your interest

“Do you want that? I can get it for you.”

You object to it every time

“No no! It’s fine.” You say politely

Him obliging, but secretly buys it for you when your back is turned.

“Please send it to the dorms, thank you.”

You catching him, and dragging him away before he lays another galleon on the front desk

“Please don’t.” You tell the cashier

“Please do.”

“Don’t”

“Do!”

Him kissing your cheek to shut you up.

“Draco!” You cover your heated face with the hand that isn’t currently holding his arm

A smug smile plasters his face before he faces the front desk again.

“Please do.”

You pinch his side

Him removing his arm from your grasp, only to wrap it around you and squeeze your waist

Y’all are not discrete at all

Poor cashier.

-🌻-

Dinner time!

It’s here that you finally show more of your true self, slightly nervous from  the thought opening up a bit

The air is quite tense from the nervousness

Conversation is slightly strained

Draco knew he was nervous, but the scenarios in his head didn’t prepare him for the moment he’d look into your eyes

Silence looms for a moment, and it gets more awkward

Draco’s eyebrows furrow for a bit as a conflicted frown graces his lips.

You let out a small chuckle at the sight, before lifting your finger to press the space of tension settled in between his brows

“What’s the matter, Draco?”

“Are you having fun?” Your eyes widened, because you were certain you made sure that you were indeed having fun

“This is the most fun I’ve had in a while!”

And that says a lot since your vibrant personality attracts a lot of friends

"Are you?” The concern covering your features alarms him

“Yes!” He straightens his back before leaning towards you 

“I know the night hasn’t ended yet, but do you think we can do this again?”

“I’d love that.”

Your eyes sparkle the way he likes it

The smile on your face gives him hope that this might last

You glance at his hands which are sat clasped together on the table

You shyly reach your hand out towards his

He notices this and takes the initiative to meet you halfway, interweaving your fingers once again.

The sight of your small delicate hands laced with his masculine ones elicits a giddy feeling inside of you, and the smile that you direct to it causes Draco to grab it momentarily, to press a kiss to your knuckles

“I never would’ve imagined you being a romantic.” 

“I’m not, but I don’t mind it if I’m with you.”

Gives you a smirk before kissing your knuckles again

It wasn’t your first time eating at the restaurant, but the food somehow tasted much better when you ate with the boy. Furthermore, it warmed your heart knowing that there’ll be a next time

-🌻-

The end of the night approaches as you reach the castle grounds

Many of the students were still in the Great Hall for dinner

Not wanting the date to end, you both end up walking around the halls, automatically turning away when you were near your respective common rooms

Draco handed you his jacket, noticing the drop in temperature and the thin fabric of your dress

You two had settled into the comfort of each other’s company

The night gave rise to much laughter, gossip, and new inside jokes

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, drawing you closer to him

You, feeling much comfortable now, embrace his torso in return

The voices of students cause you both to turn into a secluded corridor, wanting to cherish your time together a little while longer

Small chuckles are exchanged due to the sneaky act

But it’s the realization of the sudden closeness that catches you off guard

Draco finds his hands on your waist

Yours resting on his forearms

Your eyes meet, and suddenly it seems that all the events that played out today were bound to culminate in this moment

His gaze travels to your lips, while yours does the same

The sight of him leaning in slowly induces excitement to emerge inside you

“Can I kiss you?” He asks in a soft whisper

The slight nod of your head prompts him to close the distance

Pulls you into a complete embrace

Your hands travel up his biceps, shoulder, and wrap around his neck

The sensation of warmth excites you due to the fact that your body is flushed against his

FIREWORKS, BUTTERFLIES, ADRENALINE

That’s all you both are able to feel when you lie in your beds that night, waiting to see each other in the morning

A/N: KJHASKfjhlaskjhalsdkjfhas so much cheese

Tagged:

@beiahadid @hahee154hq @mushi98 @stretchyice @dracosathenaeum @dreaming-about-fanfictions @saby06143 @rottenhexrt @littlethie @amithatemo @drxcomvlfx @svturtles @xoxohollands  

#draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco x you #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagines

[cherrysha]

Conversation Hearts

Big shoutout to @ramwrites fr helping me clear out my writers block!! <3 This is just self indulgent valentines Todou and i dont have an explanation for myself

Summary: Todous relentless, a bully you’ve had to deal with since your freshman year of college. Unfortunately for you, it all comes to a head when you’re paired with him for an assignment that’s worth a substantial portion of your grade

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: Yandere themes, choking, implied noncon towards the end 

You’re early. Disastrously so. So early that you can watch the sun set in the charming little café Todou made you meet him at. It’s still winter, and the sunset isn’t too late in the day, but being early enough to watch as the sun slowly disappeared behind the tall buildings gave you the disadvantage of realizing how much time you were about to waste. Picking at the rim of the paper cup, you shake your head to try and clear the negative thoughts out, to no avail. You were about to spend an incredulous amount of time working with the person you hated the most. The person who seemed to make every class he had with you a living hell. How you ended up paired with him for this project is beyond you. One moment your partner was the girl sitting next to you in the lecture hall, the next she was gone and Todou in her place. Even though you both were in college, He was always so ruthless. As if he had made it his duty to make you feel smaller than you already did at such a large school. You don’t know why he singled you out. It had started after you’d taken an intro course with him your first year, still young and naïve enough to believe the man who sat beside you wasn't bullying you. At first it was little things, like stealing your notebook while you wrote, which turned into progressively bigger things like the time he drenched your shirt with his water bottle. A sleazy smile and an ‘oops’ that was insincere following the act. And now, you were stuck in an assignment with him that was worth half of your grade. At least the cafe was close to your apartment. It’d be easy to lose him once the work was done. Outside the wind began to howl, a bitter reminder that you could’ve spent this time cuddled up in your bed, watching a movie or something other than wasting your time with such a meathead. Part of you wanted to leave, just gather up all your school supplies and tell Todou you’d finish the project by yourself. Before you could think too deeply on that option, the door of the cafe swung open, letting in a gust of freezing air as well as the man you least wanted to interact with. Todou Aoi. A college student with muscles for brains who could laugh in the face of God himself. Even without saying anything he was always so boisterous, his presence alone just too big and loud. You hated it. “Y/n!” He called, alerting everyone in the damn place that you, unfortunately, were with him. Pulling the chair out and moving it beside your own he continues speaking “Early as usual! Y’know, that’s fine” he laughs “punctuality is a good thing! But you could’ve messaged me, and I would’ve come earlier too!” Why was he so happy all the time? It truly vexed you. Without so much as a word you got up to toss your half finished coffee away, sure if you kept it on the table the bastard would ‘accidentally’ spill it on your notes. It’s not like he hadn’t done it before. “Could we make this quick?” You sighed, scooting your chair away from his as you sat back down. “I already have a list of what you need to do. Just get it done and this’ll be painless for the both of us” Todou’s smile faltered at the end of your statement, but it quickly lit up again as you went to give him the paper. His hand shooting out to grab your wrist, a little too tight, a laugh escaping him at the way you struggled against his grip until he finally decided to let go. “Why do you always gotta do stuff like that?” you grumbled, rubbing at the dull ache that was settling into the skin of your wrist already. “Why are you always trying to run away from me?” Somehow, he made the statement seem as if it were only a joke but coupled with the aching in your wrist, it only served to piss you off further. As if you'd want to be around him, to interact with someone so dense that they couldn’t even tell when they were being a nuisance. You aimlessly rubbed at your temples, closing your eyes to try and stem off the headache that would only be exacerbated by looking at his face. Bluntly, you asked “Are we gunna work on this or not?” taking a moment to stare at the papers in front of you. You'd never get this done in one sitting, but as long as Todou understood what he had to do, you could finish the rest in the comfort of your own home. He laughs at that, something big and boisterous as his hand grabs the soft skin of your knee. It’s too comfortable, like you're an old friend and he’s enjoying the thinly veiled distaste as casual banter. “Yeah, yeah.. can I ask you something first?” his grip only tightens as you try to yank your leg away, ensuring more bruises and irritation on your part “Why the fuck not?” you say exasperatedly “What is it you wanna know Todou?” His eyes drift downwards to the work on the table, something akin to shyness ebbing through him, if it weren’t overwhelmed by the excitement that was practically buzzing through his body and burning you with a single touch to your knee. Quickly lifting his gaze up, he stares at you, sincerity in his voice as he asks “Wanna be my Valentine?” Shocked at first, you do nothing but return his stare with your own. It isn’t until he tacks on “Its not like that, I want you to be my girlfriend too, y/n… Not just for valentines! But for every day after –“ that you let out a laugh that’s louder than anything Todou has ever heard from you. After a few moments of this you quiet yourself, “Oh,” you wipe a stray tear from your eye “You're not joking?” Solemnly Todou shakes his head ‘no’ as he removes his hand from your leg. “Oh.. in that case..how do I put this delicately.” You sit for a moment before chuckling again. “No.” His stunned expression makes you laugh again as you diligently gather your things. It was obvious no work was going to be done here tonight. “Why not?” “Oh I don’t know Todou” the irritation mounting within you once again. “Maybe use that big brain of yours to figure it out for yourself.” With that, you shoulder your bag and make for the exit, still chuckling at where the night had led you.

Its still blustery as you quickly try to get back to your apartment. The weather does little to make you feel better, in fact, it seems to sour your mood even more. The first thing you'd decided to do when you got home was make a cup of tea, then after you'd email your professor and beg for a new partner. Even doing the assignment alone was preferable to seeing Todou again. The thought doesn’t last long before your being manhandled onto a side street, back hitting hard brick as Todou’s face is mere inches from yours. “You were lying right?” there’s a deep undercurrent of need flowing through him, palpable in the air around you Trying hard not to let his big frame intimidate you, you shake your head ‘no’, mouth too dry to even open as he peers down into your eyes. There’s no one on the street, no one to call you as you realize the severity of the situation. As if he expected this reaction, his hand shoots up with little hesitation as it grips your throat tightly.

“But I love you .. and you love me, right? You're just playing hard to get?” it’s a whine that leaves him as his lips press against your cheek, mumbling into the soft flesh he finds there. His grip around your throat gets tighter the longer you stay quiet “Just say it back.. say it back y/n” You couldn’t even if you tried. His hand was putting enough pressure to make dark spots form and blur your vision. Its frenzied, the way his body pins you against the wall, his free hand sliding against you. It easily trails up your dress, pressing against your stomach to keep you in place as his mouth wanders down to your neck. Before you could fully comprehend the situation, to understand where his hand was going as it traveled underneath the band of your underwear, your body goes limp. Eyes closing as Todou seeks your validation.

#todou aoi #yandere todou aoi #todou x reader #todou #yandere x reader

[purplesauris]

A Moonlit Winter’s Night

This one took me a bit longer to write between work and everything else, but hoo boy am I glad to have it finished. Mostly inspired by a beautiful full moon we had the other night, and spurred on by my gorgeous friends. I guess you could also count this as day 4 of @witcher-and-his-bard winter prompts!

Read on AO3 here! 

“Invite him, wolf, before we do.” Lambert is well into his cup, but if he has to spend another winter with Geralt dragging his ass he will end up killing his brother and he’d rather not. 

“Hmm.” Invite him? What would Jaskier, bright, warm, stunning Jaskier do in a keep alone with witchers for the four months they’re snowed in? Well, there’s only one way to find out, he supposes. 

This time, when Geralt heads down the mountain he’s the last to leave. While Vesemir has never said no to the guests they show up with, something in him hesitates to bring Jaskier here. He’s opulent, almost garishly so, and revels in the finer things when he manages to drag Geralt into a town bigger than the backwater villages they frequent. So he may or may not spend some extra time making up the guest room, Vesemir watching and putting Geralt to work until he finally leaves.

He heads for town after staying that extra week, hurrying a bit more than usual down the mountainside. He doesn’t want to miss their meeting, though he’s definitely going to be late, or else he isn’t sure he'll find the bard this year. He’s a days travel away from Oxenfurt when he’s stopped by a woman on the road, begging for someone to find her husband. She claims he was dragged off into the woods, and promises ample payment, and Geralt is unable to say no. Coin can be hard to come by, especially in the spring when so many monsters are still thawing out.

He brings her back to her village and gives strict instructions to watch his horse and watch her well. If he comes back to Roach missing, he says, there will be more problems than a missing husband to contend with. With Roach guaranteed safe Geralt treks into the forest, following the path that the wife relayed to him on the way back to the village. He finds the husband without much difficulty, shacked up in an abandoned hunting cabin with two other tittering, intoxicated women. The sight of Geralt stops their celebration, and one of the women screams, throwing her half full bottle at him. It crashes against the doorframe, shattering and spewing wine against his leg. He wrinkles his nose, looking at the three before him and doing his best not to flinch when they scream at the sight of him.

“Your wife is waiting.”

“M-me wife?” He nods, crossing his arms and tipping his head back toward town. The man goes with little convincing, stumbling past and shaking like a deer. 

“P-please, we didn’t- didn’t know he were married, honest.”

“Somehow I doubt that. I’m not here to meddle, just find him. You live in the same village?” One of them nods, the one who threw the wine bottle, and Geralt sighs. “Sober up a bit before heading back, or they’ll know you were together.”

“Right, course.” The witcher stands there for another awkward minute before grunting and leaving out the way he came. He takes his time going back, knowing there’ll be a story spun and not feeling particularly inclined to dispute it. Despite the obvious lack of monsters, Geralt can tell there was activity, once. He can smell an old nekker nest a quarter mile from the hut, but nothing has used it in ages. There were also animal tracks, but nothing more than a couple of wolves, if he were to guess by the lack of rabbits about.

He gets Roach and double the payment the wife had offered when he gets back, the husband thanking him profusely for saving him. His wife hangs off his side the whole time, teary eyed with relief. Geralt leaves out of the village astride Roach, intent on traveling through the night to get to Ja- Oxenfurt. The contract took up more time than he would have liked, and he wonders how long Jaskier will wait before giving up on him. Roach isn’t one to complain about the long night, and by the time they get into the city Geralt has slid from her back to lighten her burden. He finds the tavern on memory alone, and spends some time brushing and getting Roach settled in the stables before finally heading inside to hope they have a room. The sky hadn't begun to lighten yet, but dawn isn't far off, and Geralt desperately needs some sleep 

He reeks of booze, but the barkeep doesn’t care and says nothing when Geralt asks for whatever ale they’ve got that isn’t made with river water. He takes his usual spot in the back, tossing a look around the bar for a bright doublet or a flash of blue eyes, but either he isn't here or he's asleep. Geralt drinks himself into a light buzz and eats whatever stew is bubbling over the fire before going to get a room upstairs for the night. He tries to spend as much time as he can in the main room, but the room is quiet for once, devoid of it’s usual rabble.

He’s halfway down the hall when he smells the faint scent of sweat, lavender and a hint of chamomile, Geralt stopping and dragging in a deep breath. He follows his nose easily, backtracking to the room right next to the stairs. The scent in the hall is stale, but if Jaskier hasn’t been out since last night that would account for it. He wants to knock, to try the knob and show himself in, but that feels like too much a breach of privacy, and Geralt is too tired to think straight anyhow. He retreats to his room, shaking his head and berating himself. Jaskier is here, that much he knows, so all he has to do is go down sometime around dinner, where Jaskier will most likely be entertaining for his room and board. The plan is a good one, he thinks, and he props his swords up by the bed and lights the hearth with a twitch of his fingers. His armor comes off in pieces, left on the table in the corner of the room, his clothes following. He crawls into bed only after examining the sheets closely. Clean, thankfully.

Geralt is stretched out, languishing in a patch of sunlight a few hours later and wondering if he should try to sleep more when he hears footsteps pounding up the stairs. Geralt frowns, hand wrapping around the dagger under his pillow as the footsteps draw closer and closer. His grip tightens, pupils constricting to ease the shift of light as he watches the door. 

The knob turns in slow motion, and the scent of sun- warmth and lavender hits him like a ton of bricks. He doesn't have time to do more than sit up in bed before Jaskier is slipping into the room, ducking and looking around frantically. He knows Geralt's first instinct is to throw his knife it seems. His eyes skim over Geralt's armor and the fire burning low in the hearth before he finally spots Geralt, motionless on the bed, dagger peeking out from under his pillow. Geralt hears Jaskier's heart stutter in his chest, and the corner of his mouth quirks up.

"Geralt!" Jaskier closes the door fully, grinning and padding over as Geralt swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He's about to get up when Jaskier surges forward, throwing his arms around the witcher's neck and squeezing him tight. Geralt goes still, eyes wide, before allowing himself a moment to enjoy and take in the bard. The warmth that seeps through his doublet, and the stronger lavender scent that Geralt inhales when he buries his face in Jaskier's hair is like being home again. He wraps an arm around Jaskier, holding him against his chest and squeezing gently. They stay like that for a minute, then two, Geralt refusing to be the one that pulls away first this time. Finally Jaskier seems to have had enough, because he pulls back, eyes misty and a wry smile on his face.

"You're late."

"Surprised you're here." He replies, and honestly he is. He's more than a little late.

"Where else would I be?"

He shrugs, not sure what to say to that, and Jaskier smiles fondly. "They told me a big brute with white hair came through early this morning. I would have come in earlier, if I'd felt inclined to nurse a stab wound."

Geralt huffs a small breath at that- it's as close as he'll get to a laugh this early, or late he supposes, in the day. He's fully awake now, but his muscles are loose and the scent and sight of Jaskier close has him relaxing, leaning back on a hand. He watches Jaskier puttering around, exploring the new armor he'd had crafted on the way up the mountain and looking at the clasps closely. He glances over at the bed, blue eyes curious, and raises a brow. "Good winter?"

Geralt shrugs, pulling the dagger from under his pillow and rising to his feet. "Mhm. You?"

"It was fantastic, if I'm honest. I'll tell you more on the road." Geralt takes that as his cue to get dressed, and he gently nudges Jaskier out of the way to do so. 

                                                       -*-

Something had happened to Geralt. He wasn't sure what- he couldn't see any visible change, no knock to the head or magical influence, but something had changed. Jaskier hadn't been able to help himself when he found Geralt in the tavern, hair mussed from sleep and golden eyes vulnerable to whatever emotions played through his head. He hadn't expected Geralt to reciprocate the hug, allow it even, but he'd squeezed them close together and Jaskier's heart had soared at the contact. 

He wasn’t much different on the Path, though. They still bounced from town to town, taking whatever pickings there were. Geralt was stricter on the bounties though, asking for larger sums than he had before. Despite it, when they agreed and stiffed him later he didn’t raise a hand. Instead, he seemed pleased with himself, and took the coin that they did offer. He also stayed away from towns if he could absolutely help it. He isn’t sure if the long winter made Geralt more skittish or he just doesn’t want to, but Jaskier tries his best not to complain. 

They spend much of the year this way, pushing hard and taking any contract they can find. Jaskier will play for the bigger villages and stay back at camp mending when he has nothing else to offer. He becomes startlingly proficient with starting a fire no matter how wet the surroundings, and his game trapping could actually carry the both of them through the empty nights where they would have had nothing before. Through all of it, Jaskier finds himself happier than he was during the winter. They talk more, or at least Jaskier gets more replies instead of dead silence. A hum here, a nod and Geralt’s pretty cat eyes locking with his to let him know he’s paying attention. If Geralt sees the way he preens under the attention he doesn’t mention it, but he doesn’t stop either. Fall has come early this year and sunk claws into the land, and all around them is the smell of decaying leaves. It's Jaskier’s favorite and least favorite time of the year.

“We’re stopping in Novigrad.” Jaskier perks up at the first words Geralt has spoken today, smiling. 

“Finally decided you missed the comforts of a bed, hmm?”

Geralt hums, tugging on Roaches reins to keep her from straying toward a particularly green patch of grass. “It’s for you.”

“Me?” Geralt nods, looking vaguely uncomfortable. Jaskier thinks he spies a bit of pink to Geralt’s cheeks, but he just swings his lute up into his arms and begins to practice. He’s going to need money to spend in Novigrad, after all.

                                                         -*-

Jaskier navigates the streets of Novigrad like he was born here; with a drunklike stagger and a grin on his face. He winks and waves at any strumpet that walks by, and laughs when Geralt tells him to stop teasing them. They stop in the main square to check out the notice board, and Geralt sighs out a heavy breath at what he finds. 

“Something good?” Jaskier peers over the man's shoulders, up on tiptoes and wanting to see what could possibly make Geralt excited. Because he’s almost certain that’s what that noise means, and he happens to be an expert on his witcher by now. 

“Something dragging townspeople away.”

“Drowners?”

Geralt shakes his head, and leaves it at that. He goes to see the soldier who posted the report, and tells Jaskier to get comfortable at the inn. He’s expecting it to be a long hunt, based on the bodies alone, and he doesn’t expect he’ll be back for a couple of days. Jaskier doesn’t like it, but that night he plays in the Kingfisher, and makes enough coin to pay for their room three times over. As he does the next night, and the next night after that. 

Jaskier is nursing a hangover in bed on morning three alone when the door to the room swings open, slamming into the wall. He groans at the noise and influx of light, but the sight of Geralt stops him short. He looks… bad, for lack of a better word. 

The sight is enough to have Jaskier stumbling out of bed, closing the door behind the witcher and hurrying with sleepy fingers to get the clasps to his armor undone. Geralt’s eyes are hazy with fatigue, and he doesn’t say a word when his armor drops in pieces onto the ground. Blood stains every inch of his clothing, and Jaskier has no clue what’s his and what could be the monsters. Fear shoots through him, cold and slimy, and he shudders at the thought of Geralt out there alone. Jaskier calls for a bath and a meal, picking all of the armor up and depositing it with the rest of their stuff. His armor seems to be intact, and the only blood is on his gauntlets and greaves. Whatever soaked into his clothes must be dead. 

In the time it took for Jaskier to tidy up  Geralt has stripped down and tossed his clothes into the fire. He doesn’t seem to care about trying to salvage them, and Jaskier frowns at the waste. Bloody grooves slash over the scars littering Geralt’s back and chest, and he can see two neat puncture wounds scabbing over on the meat of Geralt's shoulder. 

“Shit Geralt, what the devil happened? What was the contract for?” Geralt doesn’t seem to hear him, staring glassily at the fire. Jaskier’s chest tightens, a lump forming in his throat. He’s never seen Geralt like this after a hunt. The tub and food are brought up quickly, and he drags it in himself, sending the attendant away. He doesn’t need anyone else seeing a naked, wounded witcher in his room. He’s not sure what Geralt would do to anyone else who saw him this way anyway. “In the tub.”

Again, he doesn’t respond, and Jaskier walks over, taking Geralt’s hand in his. The older man pulls in a breath as if starved of air, and his pupils are tiny slits as he stares at the point of contact. “C’mon love, lets get you cleaned up.”

This way, holding onto Geralt in some capacity, is the only way that Geralt seems to be able to focus. He hisses at the first contact of the hot water, but Jaskier uses a firm hand on his shoulder to keep Geralt from escaping. He uses the best washcloth they have to gently wipe him down, dabbing at the worst of the cuts and frowning at their jagged edges. The water goes murky and then pink as he works to get the witcher as clean as he can. Once he’s satisfied he leaves Geralt to soak for a moment, digging through their packs until he finds a small round bottle, a red band wrapped around the neck. Swallow. Relief washes through him, and he hurries back to Geralt, pulling the stopper and holding it to Geralt’s lips. 

“Drink.” Geralt presses his lips together, twitching away from the bottle, and Jaskier frowns. He takes hold of Geralt’s chin, holding him still, and moves the vial closer again. “Don’t be an ass, or I’ll let those cuts get infected.”

Geralt’s pupils are still miniscule, and if he didn’t know better he’d think that the man was high on something. They stare at each other, Jaskier’s grip tightening bit by bit until Geralt’s hand comes up, taking the vial and tipping it back into his mouth. Jaskier takes the now empty vial and tucks it back away, taking a deep breath to hide the shaking of his hands. Water splashes behind him, and he has to avert his eyes at the sight of Geralt standing up and getting out of the water. The potion must be working, because even though he’s sluggish, he’s moving and acting better than before. He dries off with stiff movements, and grunts before collapsing onto the bed. 

“Are you going to eat or sleep?” Geralt’s stomach growls loudly at the mention of food, and Jaskier gives a shaky smile. This, he knows better. He grabs the tray of food and moves back to the bed, humming a soft tune. “Move over.”

Geralt groans but wiggles his way over, allowing Jaskier to clamber up on his knees and tuck himself next to Geralt on the bed. Jaskier drags the nightstand a bit closer and sets down the tray as Geralt settles his head in Jaskier’s lap. He isn’t sure what to do with that, but Geralt holds his hands out for something to eat and Jaskier gives him what’s easiest. Fruits first, then the cheese and bread, and by the time he’s finished all that, even Jaskier can see that sleep is dragging at him. He’s expecting Geralt to move once he’s eaten his fill, but he merely stops asking for food and closes his eyes, his breathing settling down almost immediately. Already the cuts on his chest are sealing shut and fading, and something lightens in Jaskier's chest. He knows Geralt will be okay, he came back relatively whole, but the glassy, lost look sticks in the back of Jaskier’s mind. He’s stuck here for another few hours at least while Geralt sleeps, so he settles in for the long haul and closes his eyes. He trails fingers through Geralt’s hair, messing with the soft strands and gently tugging at any knots he finds. 

Jaskier’s headache is gone when he jolts awake later, snorting and blinking his eyes open. The fire in the hearth has burnt to embers, but Jaskier is pleasantly warm even without the covers over him. When he looks down at Geralt he finds golden eyes staring back, and he huffs. He’s being watched quietly, a contemplative look on Geralt’s face, and Jaskier raises an eyebrow. 

“What?”

“Come north with me.” That’s about the last thing that Jaskier had expected, and he chokes on a breath, leaning away to cough and thump at his chest.

“Pardon? I don’t think I heard you right, because the Geralt I know would never ask that. You are Geralt, aren’t you? Not a doppler in disguise?”

The man in his lap wrinkles his nose in such a distinctly Geralt way that though he doesn’t say it, Jaskier believes him already. “No. The potion would have killed me.”

“Ah, so has a grievous head wound occurred?”

“I’m serious.” Jaskier laughs, shaking his head in disbelief, but Geralt is still looking at him with that same contemplative look. “You don’t have to.”

“Of course I’m going. When do we leave?”

“Soon.” 

                                                         -*-

Soon ends up being by the weeks end, once Geralt is sure Jaskier has warm enough clothes. Jaskier had objected at first; he’s weathered many a winter with what he has, but Geralt insists. Jaskier isn’t sure how they’re going to be able to pay for all of the clothes Geralt tells the tailor they need, but Geralt pays down to the last crown without complaint and without letting Jaskier help. Jaskier has a sneaking suspicion that all Geralt’s higher bounties had been an excuse to get the original sum without complaint. Once they get all they need and load Roach up, there’s nothing stopping them from heading out of Novigrad and toward Kaedwen.

Jaskier has never been this far north, though he’d always dreamt of going to Zerrikania or seeing the valley of Dol Blathanna for himself. He entertains himself with thoughts of far off lands while they trek through the forest, and eventually, rising toward the mountain peaks in the distance. Geralt had warned him before they left that the path up the mountain was dangerous, and that if Jaskier didn’t listen to him he was unlikely to survive the journey up, let alone back down. It wasn’t hard at first, though- it was as if they were on their way to another town for a contract. He’d kept telling himself that even as the terrain got rougher and the air biting cold. 

They’re stopped for the night, huddled around a fire that Jaskier hasn’t left since Geralt made it when he speaks. He hasn’t talked much since they got well into the mountains, finding he needed his breath more than they needed conversation. 

“I feel as though I’m going to shake my way off the mountain. How do you stand this- this cold?”

“Told you.” 

“Yes, well, remind me never to doubt you again about anything weather related. When will it snow again, by the way?”

Geralt pauses then, looking up toward the sky and sniffing before replying in perfect deadpan. “Two hours.”

Jaskier smiles fondly, rolling his eyes and going to tuck himself away in his bedroll for the night. He doesn’t give Geralt the satisfaction of a reaction when snow begins to fall almost exactly two hours later.

                                                        -*-

When they finally crest the peak and Kaer Morhen comes into view, Jaskier thought he couldn’t get anymore out of breath. The sight of the keep nestled with its back against the mountain steals whatever air is left in his lungs, and he has to pause to take it all in. Parts of the outer wall are crumbling and he can see an entire side of the keep has collapsed in, but it cuts an imposing figure all the same. Almost more so for what Jaskier can see it’s survived. Like Geralt, the keep has seen more than most would ever know, and carries the battle scars to prove it.

“It’s… breathtaking.” He admits, looking back to find Geralt watching him, a small smile on his face. He doesn’t have any words to truly describe how he feels right now, but Geralt has never needed words, and he can see the understanding in the witcher’s eyes. He’s just as affected by the sight of his home, and he can’t imagine how homesick Geralt must feel climbing the path up to the mountain, or the relief at finally being here. “C’mon Geralt, let’s go see your home.”

Geralt nods, and they descend into the valley, Geralt letting Jaskier run a few paces ahead, breath puffing out ahead of him and ears red from the cold. He keeps a close eye out for any monsters that Vesemir hasn’t had a chance to come out and get, but the way to the entrance is blissfully clear. The gates are open when they finally make it, and two figures stand, arms crossed with twin swords on their backs. Jaskier slows his pace, suddenly nervous at the thought of meeting Geralt’s family. He’s never been to Geralt’s home or met his family, and suddenly he finds himself doing both. He smoothes a hand over his hair, hoping it isn’t too messy, and straightens his cloak a bit.

“I look okay, don’t I?” He looks toward Geralt for an answer, but a slightly higher voice calls out over the distance. 

“Hurry it up you slow bastard! I’m freezing my ass off over here.” He hears Geralt growl and mutter something under his breath, but Jaskier raises a hand and waves to the two witchers waiting for them.

“Who do we have here? A paramour of yours?” Jaskier doesn't react to the phrasing, instead glancing to see how Geralt will react. He tries not to let his heart hurt over the fact that Geralt would never think that way. 

“You know who he is.” Geralt grits out, glaring at the witcher before him. He’s a bit shorter than the others, hairline receded further back and nose hooked, broken at least twice. Despite that, he’s not bad to look at, and Jaskier mentally makes a note to try and meet an ugly witcher. Jaskier looks between the two obviously feuding witchers, noting the tension and seeking some way to break it. The other witcher though, stands there peacefully, as if he were used to this as an everyday occurrence. He’s handsome, though Jaskier is beginning to think all witchers are. Three wicked scars slash down the right side of his face, and that tickles at his memory. Jaskier stops for a moment, frowning, before a grin splits his face and he reaches out to take the man by the arms. He holds him still, looking him over, and laughs. Both Geralt and the unnamed witcher go still, watching the casual touch with barely concealed interest.

“Eskel! I should have known you were a wolf! I must have been drunker than I thought that night!” Eskel smiles, the scars bisecting his lips tugging with the movement, and draws Jaskier into a tight hug. It only lasts a moment, but Jaskier is rosy cheeked and bright eyed with excitement. Something twists inside Geralt at the sight, and he clenches his teeth together to keep from saying anything stupid. 

“Good to see you again, Jaskier. The academy treating you alright?”

“Well they weren’t too happy to lose a professor for the winter, I can tell you that. Oh! Geralt, why didn’t you tell me Eskel was your brother?” Jaskier turns those blue eyes on him, and Geralt just shrugs, unsure of what to say.

“You didn’t tell him?” Jaskier looks over at the other man, and raises a brow when Geralt snarls loudly. “Did he tell you about me at least?”

Jaskier looks the third man up and down once, glances toward Geralt, and then shakes his head. “Must not have been important.”

“Not been- Oh, I like this one Geralt. I’m hurt you haven’t brought him sooner.”

“Lambert.” Geralt’s voice is full of warning, but Lambert gives a tooth filled grin and motions for them to actually come into the keep. 

“Let’s stop standing around, your bard has a tour to get to and Vesemir has a thousand bullshit tasks for us to get done. I tell you, the old man had a list written down before I even stepped my ass into the courtyard.” 

Lambert takes off at a brisk pace, seeming more inclined to get out of the cold than chat anymore, and everyone else follows him. They pass through the training grounds first, leaving Roach at the stable, and Jaskier doesn't object when his arms are filled with a pack or two. He just shoulders the weight and trails along behind, eyes wide and flying to take in every detail he can. Geralt lingers behind a bit, occasionally pointing out a small detail Jaskier hadn't noticed yet, warmth blooming in his chest at the smile Jaskier gives in return.

"Is he always like that?" Jaskier leans over to whisper, eyeing the back of the grumpy witcher's head.

"Wait until Vesemir gets him going." Jaskier snickers, bumping their shoulders together lightly. His cheeks are red from the cold, and he's glad for the ability to hide his blush for once. 

Jaskier wants to stop and look at everything as they head for the keep, but Geralt takes him gently by the elbow to keep him going. He would fight the grip, but Geralt reassures him he'll have plenty of time to explore while they're snowed in. For now, Geralt is obviously itching to get settled and see his brothers. So Jaskier tells himself to be patient, and doesn't voice any objections to their pace. He's going to have plenty of time to overturn every stone. Lambert and Eskel break off when they finally step inside the keep, giving Geralt a look before making a beeline for where a round of Gwent seems to have been abandoned. 

"How did they know to stop and come out?" He doesn't realize he's voiced it aloud until Geralt answers, shrugging and heading for the far side of the room. 

"Witcher senses."

"They can't be that good." 

"They are!" Lambert calls after them, voice resounding through the room and bouncing off the walls. Jaskier scowls, throwing a dirty look toward the eavesdropping witcher before retreating into the next room. Geralt leads them up to where the guest bedroom is, pausing on the landing before the door. For the first time in years, Jaskier thinks that Geralt looks nervous. 

“Is this mine?” He asks softly, not wanting to spook him but eager to look around. Geralt blinks a couple of times, swallows, and then nods. The sight of Geralt nervous is rather endearing, and Jaskier falls for him a bit harder. “Well, show me in, dear witcher.”

Geralt twists the knob and pushes the door open, stepping inside and out of the way. Jaskier follows behind him, stopping in the doorway as he sweeps the room with a first cursory glance. It’s slow, but Jaskier’s bright eyes soften, and a smile curls at the corners of his lips. A large fireplace is tucked against the far wall, near it a bed that clearly hasn’t been touched in many, many years. The blankets seem a bit threadbare, but Jaskier bets they’re warm, and he could go for a good nap right now, if he’s honest. Old velvet, deep red and trimmed in gold hangs from the ceiling along the walls, making the room seem warmer than it actually is. The middle of the room is dominated by a fur carpet, and a wooden table is shoved into one corner, two stools tucked underneath.

“It isn’t much.” Geralt mumbles, growing more and more restless the longer Jaskier stands and stares. Jaskier takes a couple more steps in, dumping his things on the bed and turning to Geralt. There are tears in his eyes, sticking to his lashes and slipping down his cheeks in shimmering streaks. Geralt reaches up to brush them away without a thought, thumb sweeping gently across sun kissed skin. “Jask-”

“It’s perfect.” Jaskier leans into Geralt's touch, reaching up to cradle his hand as he places a gentle kiss onto the calloused palm. Geralt’s whole hand tingles pleasantly at the contact, and he takes a step closer as Jaskier closes his eyes, sniffling softly. “You did all this for me?”

“You deserve it. To be comfortable. I know we live a little- rough.” He isn’t sure what else to say, is choking on the warmth and yearning and love rising in his chest. Jaskier’s eyes are made even more brilliant by his tears when he opens them again, and Geralt loses himself in them. They’re inches apart now, and Geralt’s nose fills with the scent of cold, lavender and that edge of chamomile. Jaskier looks at him, searching for something, and Geralt is about to do something very stupid when Jaskier does it first. He leans up, closing the space between them and gently pressing a warm kiss to Geralt’s lips. His touch is featherlight, like Geralt could break at any moment, and in a way he does. A dam fractures in his chest at the contact, and Geralt uses the hand still cradling Jaskier’s cheek to guide him closer as feelings he’d hidden deep away rage through him. 

Their lips press together harder, less hesitant, and Jaskier’s hands come up to curl in the edges of Geralt’s cloak. He presses himself up against Geralt, drawing him closer as their breath mingles and Geralt’s fingers tangle in his hair. Jaskier hardly knows where he begins and Geralt ends, and it isn’t until they hear a sharp whistle and an “Atta boy!” from the bottom of the steps that they break apart. Jaskier is breathing hard, and he laughs when Geralt growls, glaring toward the stairs. Jaskier tugs lightly on the cloak in his hands, and Geralt’s attention is drawn back as easily as that, golden eyes soft in the low light coming from the hall. 

“You know, if I’d known this would happen when you brought me to visit, I would have insisted years ago.”

“Years?” Geralt hardly recognizes his own voice, rough and out of breath, and he leans to kiss the smile from Jaskier’s lips on instinct alone. Jaskier melts into the kiss, leaning heavily against Geralt. He slides his hands over Geralt's chest before pulling back and bumping his nose against Geralt's. 

“You’re very dense, when you want to be. I don’t normally nurse witchers back to health for fun, you know. Blood isn’t my strong suit, nor are monster guts. I’m not very inclined to write dozens of songs about them just because I like fame either, though the stories do make good coin.” Jaskier pauses, smiling when he feels a rumble vibrate under his hands. He goes on tiptoes, placing a soft kiss on the corner of Geralt’s mouth in apology. “The fame is nice, I’ll admit. It makes it easier to travel with you, to provide something, even if it’s only songs that drive you mad.”

“Hmm.” Jaskier kisses him again, chuckling softly against his lips and just enjoying being close.

“I couldn’t agree more. Now, I know you’re eager to visit with your brothers, so go see them.” Geralt begins to protest, brow scrunching, but Jaskier silences him with a firm, hot kiss, and Geralt finds he’s rather enjoying being silenced like this. “You get to see me all year. They don’t. I’ve got some unpacking to do, and a nap to take. Come up later, if you’d like?”

“Mhm.” Though he’s still reluctant, he does as Jaskier asks, retreating back down the stairs with silent steps. Jaskier closes the door behind him and gets a fire roaring in the hearth, grinning like a fool. His whole body tingles, and he traces his lips with trembling fingers. He’s sure he’s going to wake up any minute, no matter how the cold pinches at his toes to tell him he’s really here. In Kaer Morhen, with a witcher who’s spent the better part of this year earning enough coin just to bring him home to his family. 

Jaskier putters around unpacking as he told Geralt he was going to, and once the room has warmed sufficiently he sheds his outerwear. The velvet helps trap the heat in surprisingly well, and when he peeks behind them he finds windows. The fur is soft under his feet as he digs through their packs, trying to find something to wear to nap in. Near the bottom of the pack is a white shirt, something Jaskier has never seen Geralt wear, but it’s soft and warm and smells like him. He slips it on without a second thought, swimming in the fabric, and then tucks himself into the bed for a nap. 

He’s woken up by the door clicking shut a little while later. There’s only one person he thinks that would come in without knocking, but for now he keeps his eyes shut and snuggles a bit deeper under the covers. He waits until he hears the soft clink of metal to open his eyes, and watches lazily as Geralt methodically strips out of his armor. His back is to the bed, and Jaskier enjoys the view more than he was allowed to before. When Geralt tugs his shirt over his head and glances over his shoulder, Jaskier doesn’t bother pretending to be bashful. His gaze is hungry as it trails over pale skin before meeting Geralt’s eyes, the man quirking a brow. Jaskier merely winks in response, warmth blooming in his chest at the soft chuckle he earns. 

“How are your brothers?”

“Nosy.” Jaskier rolls onto his back as his witcher pads over, sitting on the side of the bed and leaning down to kiss him softly. Jaskier reaches a hand up to thread his fingers in Geralt’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp and tasting the sigh that brushes against his lips. Geralt shifts, turning himself so he isn’t quite so contorted, and Jaskier moves with him, sitting up and letting the blankets pool in his lap. Geralt uses a hand to steady Jaskier, fingers splaying against his ribs before they bunch in the fabric of Jaskier’s shirt. Jaskier hears Geralt’s breath stutter and catch in his throat, and the kiss moves from soft and sweet to heavy and hot. Geralt laps at his lips, nipping gently until Jaskier opens up. He’s swept away by the way that Geralt is able to use his tongue, and heat pools low in his belly at the implications of it. 

Jaskier’s side cramps with the way they’re sitting after a few blissful minutes, and he pushes the blankets back, breaking the kiss for a second to clamber into Geralt’s lap. Geralt scoots himself back a little bit, plants his feet better and grabs at Jaskier’s shirt again, yanking him close. Geralt leans up, trying to kiss him, but Jaskier smiles, taking a fistful of Geralt’s hair and tugging. The soft whine that he gets in response goes right to his groin, and he mouths at the sensitive skin just under Geralt’s jaw. When he nips at the skin, teases at leaving a mark Geralt’s whines again, arching his neck and pressing up into the touch. Jaskier can’t deny Geralt when he asks so nicely, and he kisses his way to a nice spot before digging his teeth in. His grip tightens in Geralt’s hair when Geralt’s hips buck, keeping himself from being displaced. The witcher keens needily underneath him, and Jaskier hums against his skin. Jaskier bites a bit harder before releasing and sucking at the mark, leaning back to admire his work. Witcher’s skin is hard to mark, but he's pretty proud of himself at the mark that he’s made. He leans down to add a couple more, enjoying the sounds that he coaxes out with each sharp point of pressure. 

Bruises bloom in a pretty arc of teeth marks, darkest purple in the middle and fading toward a lighter pink at the edges along the side of Geralt’s neck. Geralt is panting, hands clenching and unclenching against Jaskier’s sides, and Jaskier brushes his thumb lightly over one of the marks. Geralt’s eyelids flutter at the feeling, and Jaskier shudders at the rush of power it brings him to see Geralt this way.

“What got you so worked up, love? Hmm?” Jaskier keeps constant contact with Geralt in some way, sitting in his lap and rolling his hips lazily as the man comes back to him slowly. He’s sure Geralt is back when he blinks rapidly, hands grabbing onto him and holding him still. Geralt rolls his neck, stretching to kiss Jaskier before answering.

“The shirt.” 

“Oh?” Jaskier purrs, rolling his hips down until Geralt tightens his grip again and presses him down firmly. Once Jaskier stops trying to move Geralt’s hands wander, skimming over Jaskier’s thighs and back up, hands sliding under Jaskier's shirt. Geralt's fingers tickle at the soft skin over Jaskier’s ribs before he brushes over one of Jaskier's nipples with the pad of his thumb. The younger man hums at the attention, draping his arms over Geralt’s shoulders and kissing the shell of his ear. “What about the shirt, Geralt?”

“S’mine.” Jaskier hums in encouragement, and Geralt shivers under him. “Makes you smell like me.”

“And you like that, don’t you? That all the others here know I’m yours?” The answering growl and roll of Geralt’s hips is all Jaskier needs, and he kisses just under Geralt’s ear, sucking at the sensitive skin until a faint mark blooms. “Geralt?”

“Mmm?” Geralt noses at Jaskier’s hair, breathing in softly as his hands wander once more, smoothing down Jaskier’s thighs. He isn’t wearing pants, and his smallclothes don’t hide anything and Geralt aches to touch. 

“Can I- can I touch?” Geralt grinds his hips up, shuddering when Jaskier gasps so close to his ear, and Geralt does it again just to hear Jaskier make that same sweet sound.

“Only if I can.” Jaskier surges forward to kiss him then, whispering ‘deal’ against his lips as he fumbles to open the fly of Geralt’s pants. Geralt falls back against the bed, taking Jaskier with him and never letting him stray too far. 

                                                       -*-

When Jaskier wakes up that next morning, he’s sore in ways he hasn’t been in months, and sated in a happy, boneless kind of way. Geralt is already up, no surprise there, and Jaskier groans, sitting up to get dressed. Geralt slips the shirt from last night on over his head, tugging his hair out of the collar and tucking the ends into his pants. It’s a bit rumpled, but Jaskier helps fix it as best he can while dressing himself for the day. He knows not to doubt how cold it is anymore, and dresses warmer than he would normally. Geralt waits patiently by the door, tying his hair back and holding a hand out to Jaskier once he’s got his boots on.

“Why are we up this early again?”

“Chores.” 

“Right, right.” Jaskier takes Geralt’s hand and lets himself be guided, yawning and rubbing at his eyes down the stairs. He trusts Geralt enough not to let him fall, and together the two of them pad into the main hall. No one else seems to be around other than Eskel, toiling away in the kitchen, and though he eyes the bruises blooming along Geralt’s throat, he doesn’t comment. 

“Vesemir’s waiting for you outside. Jaskier, you’re with me.” 

“See you at breakfast.” Geralt presses a kiss into Jaskier’s hair before heading outside, leaving the bard and the other witcher alone. Jaskier wanders over, wringing his hands, and Eskel nods toward the space next to him.

“Roll up your sleeves, we’ve got bread to make.”

“Bread?” Jaskier does as he’s told though, and spends the better part of an hour learning the basics of doughworking from Eskel. Once they’ve got the bread in what Jaskier assumes is a huge version of a stereotypical stone oven Eskel has him wipe up and begin to cut up the vegetables they'll need for the day. Jaskier falls into the rhythm of work easily, moving past Eskel without crashing into him and tossing vegetables into a pot set to simmer over the fire until lunchtime. He even takes the time to tidy the kitchen up a bit until Lambert and Geralt come inside, shoving each other and laughing on their way to get food. Jaskier watches them fondly, snapping a spoon across Lambert’s knuckles when he tries to nose around the stew and shooing him away. Eskel gives him a proud smile and winks, heading off with his brothers to sit down and eat. 

Jaskier leans against the counter watching them for a moment, and jumps when he hears footsteps come up next to him. The witcher next to him has to be Vesemir, based on the grey hair and fact that the only other witchers here are all at the table in front of him. 

“So, you’re the bard he kept talking about, hmm?”

“And you’re Vesemir, his father?” Vesemir nods, arms crossed across his chest.

“Tomorrow morning, get up a bit earlier. The chickens need tending if we’re going to have enough meat and eggs for the winter.”

“Yes sir.” Jaskier is sincere, looking toward the witcher to find Vesemir looking back. He doesn’t feel trapped like he usually would; instead he finds it’s more like Vesemir is reading him, and hasn’t found anything particularly horrible yet. 

“Hey bard! Eat before everything gets cold.”

“Coming!” Jaskier turns to Vesemir to ask if he’s going to eat as well, but the older witcher has disappeared, and Jaskier blinks in confusion before grabbing himself a plate and going to join the others at the table. He settles himself on the bench next to Geralt and digs into his food, enjoying the fluffiness of the eggs and the lovely crust on the bread from yesterday. Jaskier is halfway through his plate when a sly look comes over Lambert’s face.

“So,” he begins, and Jaskier looks up. Lambert uses his fork to gesture toward Geralt, raising a brow. “Was that you?”

“Lambert.” Geralt starts, but Jaskier holds up a hand and Geralt goes blissfully quiet. 

“I would take care, Lambert.” 

“What, is it crime to wonder who made my brother's neck look like an ekimmara's amateur work?” 

“Unless I deign to tell you, I’d prefer if you keep your thoughts to yourself.” Jaskier’s eyes narrow minutely, and Eskel looks between the two of them. They’re two untested forces, and no one is sure who’s going to break first.

“What, can’t handle a few hard questions? If so, I’m surprised you made it up the mountain.” Jaskier stands up, pushing the table up against Lambert, and in spectacular form, punches him directly in the nose. Lambert goes crashing off of the chair and takes the table with him, swearing. Geralt stares, wide eyed at Jaskier with his fork still poised for a bite. Eskel had picked his plate up well before, and he's clutching it in mute shock as Lambert rages on the floor. He sits up, gripping his nose and shoving the table off of himself with the other hand. Eskel looks between his brother, then the bard, then back to his brother, and begins to laugh. Louder and louder until he’s doubled over trying desperately to pull in breaths between laughing at Lambert and telling him he finally got what he deserved. 

Jaskier shakes his hand out as Eskel laughs, blood staining his skin red. He stoops down and plucks a napkin from the table, using it to dab at his knuckles with mechanical indifference. There’s a messy crunch as Lambert rights his nose, and Eskel finally stops laughing long enough to help him off the floor. Geralt has abandoned his fork by now and comes to gently take the napkin from him, inspecting the skin carefully. Most of the blood seems to be Lambert's, but Jaskier has split two of his knuckles, and the skin around them is already bruising. 

Geralt wipes away the blood best he can and glances up at Jaskier when he flinches. "Okay?"

"Fine." Jaskier's voice is light, almost forcefully so, but he smiles wistfully when Geralt gently kisses the first knuckle, then the second. "You know that isn't sanitary."

"No, ancient magic. Mothers have used it for centuries." This makes Jaskier smile, genuine this time, and he grips Geralt's fingers weakly. Jaskier turns to Lambert, watching as he presses a napkin to his nose to staunch the rest of the bleeding. Geralt is ready to get between them if Lambert decides to be spiteful, but instead he sees something like respect in Lambert's eyes.

"You're alright, bard. You're alright. Never had a human knock me flat."

"Pray you don't see me angrier." Jaskier replies with deadly seriousness. This time it's apprehension that shines in Lambert's eyes, and he gives a curt nod.

While Geralt goes to get something for Jaskier's knuckles the bard helps right the table, picking up cups and plates off the floor. It's a good thing they don't seem fond of fine cutlery, or Jaskier would be picking shards of ceramic off the floor. Instead all he has to do is use another napkin to gather the eggs and bread off the floor and dispose of it. Lambert helps once his nose has stopped bleeding, and waves Jaskier off when Geralt comes back to finish tending to him. 

Jaskier follows Geralt a few steps away from the table, hopping to sit on the tabletop. Geralt nudges at his knee and steps easily between Jaskier's legs, taking hold of his hand again to look at it.

"In the hall, Geralt? You could at least wait until they'd left." The joke is weak but Geralt takes pity on him and chuckles, shaking his head. 

"I'm sure they know to respect your privacy now." Jaskier hmms at that, hissing when Geralt presses a thumb into the bones of his hand. They shift uncomfortably, but nothing moves out of place and Geralt seems pleased with that. Once he's certain Jaskier hasn't broken anything he smears a sharp, pungent salve over Jaskier's knuckles and uses a bit of cloth to bandage his hand. "Good as new. No lute today." 

Jaskier gasps, affronted, and presses his injured hand to his chest. "Whatever shall I do without it? How else am I to write my newest ballad? 'The man who punched the Prick'?"

Geralt wrinkles his nose, and Jaskier nods sagely. "You're right, the name could use some work. Back to the drawing board I suppose." 

"Whatever you do, it'll have to be left handed." Jaskier winks, raising a brow, and Geralt snorts. He doesn't say it, but he gives Jaskier a look that says later. 

                                                          -*-

Jaskier fits himself into their routine without much of a fuss after that; he gets up to tend the livestock with Vesemir long before anyone else, and joins Eskel in the kitchen preparing the day's meals after he's done. After breakfast the boys head for the training grounds while Jaskier makes for the library where he pours over tomes no one has seen in decades and gathers information for his songs. Vesemir joins him when they're finished with training, and Jaskier spends an hour picking his brain before lunch. Despite his gruff exterior, Vesemir seems glad to have someone to talk to who doesn't try to piss him off. Lunch is a short affair, just a quick meal before everyone branches off to finish up final chores and take some time for themselves. Jaskier spends his time after lunch in the woods surrounding the keep, setting out traps for the smaller game and keeping Geralt close for anything bigger. Dinner is the longest affair of the night, where the ale is broken out and Lambert insists on at least three songs. The first time Jaskier had tried to sing Toss A Coin he'd been met by three golden glares, and hasn't touched the song since. That was fine though, because Jaskier had plenty to sing about and more that no one had ever heard yet.

It’s nearing the end of their first month that the keep seems to get busier than ever. The snow has fallen thick and there’s no more going out into the forest, so Jaskier spends most of his days stuck inside. The witchers still train despite the biting cold, and Jaskier insists on helping them clear the training grounds of snow when he has time. None of them will let him stay outside for more than an hour, not when he shakes the way he does even with three or four layers on. The other witchers seem to grow more distant too, as if the end of the month meant something that Jaskier wasn’t privy to.

They’re in bed after retiring early from dinner, Jaskier in one of Geralt’s shirts when Geralt tugs him a bit closer and tucks his nose into Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier hums softly, never glancing up from his book but reaching to take Geralt’s hand in his. 

“Hmm?” Neither of them need many words anymore, and Jaskier doesn’t want to break the cozy atmosphere they have by talking. Geralt presses a kiss against his temple, and Jaskier smiles. Geralt doesn’t seem to want to say anything either, he just seems to want to hold Jaskier a bit closer and smell his hair. They sit that way for a little while until Geralt sighs, tugging on his shirt and whining softly. Jaskier turns, kissing Geralt gently before going back to his book, but that doesn’t seem to sate him this time. He whines again, and Jaskier finally closes his book and tucks in on the floor under the bed. “Bed time?”

Geralt nods, and Jaskier slides down further under the covers, bundling Geralt into his arms and closing his eyes. Geralt tucks his head under Jaskier’s chin, nose pressed against his collar bone, and throws an arm over Jaskier’s stomach. The fire in the hearth is still roaring merrily, but the light isn’t enough to bother either of them and Jaskier drifts off to sleep warm and cozy. 

A breeze rustles Jaskier’s hair later that night and he shivers, huddling under his covers to try and block out the cold. He’s almost drifted off to sleep again when he realizes there shouldn’t be a breeze at all, and he sits up in bed. Moonlight floods his room, washing out the color of the velvet and casting everything in stark contrast. The bed next to him is empty, the sheets cold, and Jaskier frowns. Where in the devil could Geralt have gone? 

The floor is icy when he slips out of bed, and he tosses a few more logs on the dying embers of their fire and hurries to yank on pants. He shoves his feet into his boots without socks and grabs whichever cloak is closest, which happens to be his. He heads out of his room with the singular task of finding where Geralt has gone, wrapping his cloak tight around him and shuffling down the steps. Geralt’s room a floor below his is empty, even more barren than he would have expected, so Jaskier carries on. He’s never been up this late in the night, and the keep is eerily silent without any arguing witchers or the crackle of a fire. He pops his head into the kitchen, thinking Geralt, with his bottomless stomach might have wanted a snack, but again he finds the room empty. 

He’s about to head up to the library when he hears wood splintering and cracking outside, and Jaskier is heading for the huge doors of the keep without a second thought. He wouldn’t be cutting wood would he? The barn out back is full up, and besides, why would he do it so late? Jaskier follows where he thinks the sound came from and trudges through a couple of inches of snow to the courtyard. He hears the sound again, and this time he can tell it’s coming from the training yard. He doesn’t bother being quiet, breaths puffing out in front of him as he pulls in sharp, jagged breaths. He didn’t dress to be outside long, if at all, and he hurries to the training grounds so he can get Geralt to come back to bed.

A snarl ripples through the air as Jaskier gets closer, and he stops at the low wall of the walkway to peer over the edge. He looks just in time to see Geralt toss both Eskel and Lambert off of him, the two witchers flying through the air and landing nimbly in the snow.  They charge back at him, and Geralt sweeps Lambert’s feet from under him, slamming the palm of his hand against Eskel’s chest. Eskel goes down wheezing, and Jaskier is running before he can think about what the hell is going on. He slips and slides down the path and rounds the corner into the training yard, staring in open mouthed horror as Lambert sends Geralt crashing into the scaffolding on the far side of the yard. Wood groans and cracks under Geralt’s weight, and judging by the damage it isn’t the first time he’s been tossed that way either. 

“Melitele's tits, stop.” His voice is shrill in the cold air and he’s beginning to lose feeling in his toes as he stands ankle deep in the snow. “What the hell are you guys doing out here?”

Three pairs of cat eyes lock on him at once and he gets three different kinds of growls. Lambert starts toward him, snarling when Eskel grabs his shoulder and digs his fingers in. Eskel hasn’t looked away from him, but his voice is rough and full of barely concealed rage. “Go inside.”

“What are you guys doing out here? Beating each other in the middle of the night? For what?”

“Jaskier, you don’t have much time. Go. Inside.” Eskel’s voice is strange, strangled and blurry. The witcher glances behind him, toward the sky, and Jaskier glances back too. The moon is huge and yellow and so, so impossibly close this high in the mountains. The sight would be mesmerizing if it weren’t for the snarl and feeling of something warm and very, very riled up emanating behind him. He swallows, heart fluttering in his chest, and turns around slowly to find Geralt inches from him. Jaskier relaxes a bit, smiling, and jumps when Geralt’s hand comes up and grabs his arm tightly. 

His fingertips dig in mercilessly and he gasps in pain, turning and placing a hand against Geralt’s chest. “Geralt, let me go.”

“You’re supposed to be asleep.” He grits out, grip loosening only marginally. “Inside.”

“Not without you.” Geralt snarls, shaking his head, and finally releases his grip. 

“You don’t want me with you. Not tonight.”

“I do. Geralt, tell me what’s going on. Please.” His voice is pitifully soft in his own ears, and Geralt lets out a sharp breath before jerking his head toward the keep. 

“Geralt.” Eskel’s voice is sharp, afraid, and Jaskier isn’t sure why. Lambert is shaking under Eskel’s grip, and Jaskier takes Geralt’s hand, leading him out of the snow and back toward the keep. Well, it looks like he’s leading, but he has a feeling Geralt is really herding him back inside instead. Jaskier grips Geralt’s hand tight, afraid that if he lets go Geralt is going to bolt back outside and he won’t get his answers. He shivers as he makes his way back upstairs, slipping into his room and shutting the door as quickly as he can to keep in the heat from the fire. Geralt stands resolutely by the door, back rigid and fists clenched. Jaskier tosses another log on to keep the fire going strong and unclasps his cloak, tossing it on the table. 

“Geralt, what’s going on? I woke up alone and- and I’m not sure what I did or what’s happening to you but-” His voice wobbles, betraying him, and he turns around to see Geralt trembling. Jaskier pads closer, taking one of Geralt’s hands and kissing his knuckles one by one. He can feel the fine tremor that goes up Geralt’s arm at the contact. “Talk to me, please. Don’t lock me out.”

“It’s a witcher thing. We- monsters are strongest during a full moon- but- so are we. Energy has to go- somewhere.” 

“So this happens every month? Is that why you always took longer contracts around the full moon?”

“Yes. Don’t wanna- hurt you.” Jaskier huffs, stepping a bit closer. Geralt takes a step back, Jaskier following, and he growls when his back hits the wall. “Jaskier, don’t-”

“You won’t hurt me. Not in any way that can’t be fixed, or any way that I would mind.” Jaskier rises up on his toes, brushing his lips against Geralt’s gingerly. He presses himself bodily against the older man, and Geralt’s hands come up to grab at his sides. Geralt whines, shaking, and Jaskier’s grin is serpentine. “You said the energy has to go somewhere, right? Well, I happen to know a couple of ways to get rid of energy without having to be in the cold.”

Geralt groans then, breathing out sharply and drawing Jaskier tighter against him. Jaskier captures his lips in a firm kiss, slipping a hand up into Geralt’s hair to tangle his fingers in the silver strands. Geralt leans forward, away from the wall, and Jaskier bends with him. “Jask, if I-”

“You won’t.” He whispers, and Geralt can feel his smile as Jaskier kisses him briefly. “And if you do, you’ll be back out in the cold for the night. Deal?”

Geralt nods, heat roiling under his skin and hands grabbing roughly at Jaskier. They’re about as close as they can be, but Geralt presses him closer anyway and catches his lips in a filthy, heated kiss. Jaskier moans into the kiss and laps into Geralt’s mouth, tasting his breath and jolting at what he finds. He isn’t sure whether it’s the moon or Geralt, but his fangs are long and sharp, and the way Eskel’s voice sounded garbled makes more sense now. It doesn’t deter Jaskier in the slightest, and heat licks down his spine at the thought of those teeth leaving pretty marks. Jaskier breaks away to kiss down the length of Geralt’s jaw, nipping gently.

Geralt moans suddenly, fingers digging into Jaskier’s sides as Jaskier kisses his neck, palming him through his pants and using his other hand to pin Geralt’s hips back. His head tips back against the wall, baring his neck, and Jaskier spends some time leaving small marks. Deft fingers tug at the ties of Geralt’s pants, and the older man jolts when Jaskier takes him in hand, tugging him out of his pants. He almost complains that his fingers are cold, but the temperature difference between them does something funny to his stomach, and he isn’t sure he wants Jaskier to stop touching him. 

Jaskier huffs hotly against his neck, stroking him slowly and pressing his thumb against the head. He listens to every whine and twitch of Geralt’s hips, adjusting his grip and speed until Geralt is writhing back against the wall, chest rising and falling with labored breaths. One of Geralt’s hands lets go of Jaskier and he cups the bard's cheek, tipping his head up and kissing him desperately. The kiss is messy, but neither of them care, Geralt groaning into Jaskier’s mouth when Jaskier pulls back too soon. Jaskier’s eyes are dark, the pupil swallowing most of his iris, and he turns his head, nipping at Geralt’s thumb and smirking when Geralt twitches in his hand. “Be good.”

Geralt isn’t sure what in the hell he’s doing to be bad, but then Jaskier is sinking to his knees in front of him and all his breath leaves him at once. Jaskier glances up, gauging his reaction, and leans forward to place a wet, openmouthed kiss on the side of Geralt’s cock. He doesn’t stop there, humming and licking a long strip up the underside before taking the head into his mouth. Geralt’s hips twitch forward and Jaskier raises an eyebrow, lapping at the slit in what Geralt supposes is reprimand. He only whimpers in response, mind going blank when Jaskier hums, taking him further into his mouth. He bobs his head achingly slow, enjoying the weight of Geralt’s cock in his mouth and his taste on his tongue. Jaskier can feel his jaw complaining already, but he welcomes the soreness. They’d done a lot in the month that they’d been here, but Jaskier seems particularly fond of being on his knees whenever he can. 

Geralt buries his fingers in Jaskier’s hair as he pushes deep but stops short of all the way, eyelids fluttering at the feeling. Jaskier’s mouth is so incredibly wet and warm around him, and he’s unable to help himself this time when his hips twitch forward. Much to his surprise Jaskier moans, hands coming up to grab the sides of his thighs and urge him forward. Geralt is gentle at first, pressing forward until his cock hits the back of Jaskier’s throat and then pulling back. Jaskier doesn’t let him get far, chasing him and swirling his tongue around the head. Geralt growls, fingers tightening in Jaskier’s hair in warning, but Jaskier is persistent, only stopping when Geralt snaps his hips forward roughly. The vibrations from Jaskier’s moans rock through him, and Geralt tips his head back, setting a rougher pace than he’d thought about before. 

Jaskier doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, swallowing around him and tilting his head to make the angle easier. Geralt glances down, and the sight of Jaskier’s lips stretched around his cock, drool on his chin as Geralt fucks into his mouth makes his cock twitch hard. Pleasure washes over him in steady waves, pooling in his belly and making his muscles clench as he lets out a shaking breath. His hips stutter, Geralt moaning and tugging on Jaskier’s hair. He mumbles Jaskier’s name in warning, closer than he’d like to admit, and Jaskier moans, fingers pressing into Geralt’s thighs and urging him forward again. Geralt grips Jaskier’s hair tight, and he’s sure Jaskier will tell him to stop, to let go, but Jaskier bobs his head and sucks harder, all too eager to please. He doesn’t bother trying to warn Jaskier again, grinding into his mouth and shuddering as his release hits him, heat searing from his head to his toes. Jaskier takes him as deep as he can, nose pressed to his skin and throat tightening around him as Geralt comes, hips stuttering. His vision whites out as Jaskier pulls back, sucking and lapping at the head until Geralt is overstimulated and has to use his hold in Jaskier’s hair to keep him still. 

He can feel his thighs trembling underneath Jaskier’s hands, and he tries to regulate his breathing as best he can as Jaskier pants, leaning into Geralt’s hand and whining softly. Arousal, sweet and heady, overwhelms any other scent in the room, and Geralt guides Jaskier to his feet. He uses his thumb to wipe Jaskier’s chin before leaning in, kissing him thoroughly and tasting himself on Jaskier’s tongue. Jaskier whines into his mouth, shifting, and Geralt stoops a bit, scooping the bard up easily. Jaskier wraps his legs around Geralt’s hips, muscled thighs flexing as his kisses harder, nips at Geralt’s lower lip and only pulls away to yank Geralt’s shirt up and over his head. Jaskier’s cock is hard against his stomach, and he grinds up, craving friction as Geralt carries him to bed. Geralt walks without really looking, and he grunts when his shins hit the bedframe and he tips forward. Jaskier gasps as they sway, and Geralt catches them before he squishes Jaskier on accident. Jaskier’s nails dig into his shoulders as his heart thunders, and Geralt snarls, pressing him back into the bed and grinding down. 

“Fuck- Geralt-” Jaskier arches up against him, digging his nails in harder and gasping when Geralt bites at his neck. Geralt’s chest rumbles against his, and Jaskier realizes with a jolt that he’s purring. Jaskier drags his nails down across Geralt’s chest, leaving angry red marks, and Geralt trembles. Jaskier uses his heels to push at Geralt’s pants, sick of clothing being between them, and Geralt moves to help. Geralt is now blissfully naked, but Jaskier is still fully clothed and he fumbles with the fly of his own pants. His hands are batted away so Geralt can make quick work of the ties, and Jaskier groans when some of the pressure on his cock is lessened. He’s hard, painfully so, and he feels like he could come just from Geralt looking at him with those cat eyes of his. When Jaskier moves to take his shirt off Geralt stops him, eyes dark at the sight of Jaskier bare but wearing Geralt's too big shirt.

“The- more I hurt, the rougher I get-” He’s trying to explain best he can when his mind isn’t quite so jumbled, and Jaskier’s scent spikes with what Geralt can only describe as love. 

“I won’t break.” Jaskier promises, cupping the back of Geralt’s neck and dragging him down into a kiss. And he won’t- he knows his own limits better than anyone could imagine, and he also knows what he wants. What he wants just so happens to line up with what Geralt needs in the moment. Jaskier slides his fingers up into Geralt’s hair and grabs a tight fistful, pulling and reveling in the snarl and snap of Geralt’s hips, arousal sweeping over him in waves. Geralt sits up, Jaskier losing his grip, and Jaskier tries to go with him, but Geralt pushes him back and leans to grab something from the nightstand. Jaskier knows instantly what it is and his cock throbs. “Wanna fuck me?”

Geralt growls low, nostrils flaring, and Jaskier is the one to crowd into his space this time, thighs bracketing around Geralt’s hips as their cocks slide together. The friction is delicious and Jaskier spends a moment just grinding down until he hears the pop of the stopper. Geralt has hooked his chin over Jaskier’s shoulder to see what he’s doing, and Jaskier shudders when oil-slick fingers dip between his cheeks, drawing tight circles around his rim. He croons at the sensation, grinding his hips forward and gasping when Geralt’s chin digs into his shoulder. Jaskier takes Geralt’s earlobe between his teeth and tugs, gasping into his ear when Geralt presses against his rim with a warm finger. Jaskier goes still, focusing on that one sensation as Geralt slowly pushes in. Jaskier moans, rocking his hips down, and Geralt presses a second finger in quickly after the first.

Jaskier whimpers at the stretch, squeezing around Geralt’s fingers and rocking between his fingers and his groin. Geralt shifts, pressing sharp teeth against Jaskier’s neck and rumbling when Jaskier’s cock twitches between them. Geralt thrusts his fingers in and out slowly, enjoying the way that Jaskier squirms and begs, whining when Geralt teases a third finger before pulling back and thrusting his fingers in again. Geralt’s skin is flushed, hot with the roaring fire at his back, but Jaskier has left the velvet pulled back and a cold breeze sweeps through the room. Jaskier is so close to coming, moving desperately between grinding down on Geralt and riding his fingers, and he still hasn’t added another finger. Jaskier slides his hands down Geralt’s back, over the many ridges of his scars, and rakes his nails back up fiercely, Geralt howling. 

Jaskier is expecting more, aches for it, but he cries out all the same when Geralt shoves a third finger in him and crooks his fingers, rubbing mercilessly against his prostate. Jaskier’s release builds rapidly in his stomach, scorching through him, and he whimpers pitifully when Geralt’s other hand clamps around the base of his cock, squeezing tight. 

“Wh- no, nonono Geralt please. Please.” Jaskier begs, writhing in Geralt’s lap as fingers crook inside him again, rubbing hard and making his cock dribble. Geralt doesn't seem to hear him anymore though, and he pulls his fingers out completely, waiting until he knows Jaskier isn’t going to come. Jaskier’s cock is flushed an angry red, and even the breeze coming from the old window makes him whimper. Geralt lifts him from his lap, turning him around and rearranging him the way he likes. Jaskier moves pliantly under his guidance, tucking a pillow under his chin as Geralt slides a hand down his spine and presses Jaskier’s chest into the bed. Jaskier hears the pop of the cork again, and he tries to turn his head to look back at Geralt to watch what he’s doing. 

Geralt drapes himself over Jaskier’s back, fitting them together and lazily grinding his cock between Jaskier’s cheeks. Geralt has used plenty of oil, and every time the head catches on his rim Jaskier tries to angle so that Geralt can slide in, but Geralt just hums and adjusts his own angle, denying him a little while longer.

“Told me to be good, but then did that.” Geralt’s voice wavers with the purr that’s taken residence in his chest, and Jaskier whines. “S’like you don’t want to walk tomorrow.”

“I’d consider it a failure on my part if I can.” Jaskier gasps out, sliding a hand back to scratch at Geralt’s thigh. That small movement costs him, and Geralt snarls in his ear, bearing more of his weight down on Jaskier.

“Stop it. You don’t know-” Jaskier does it again, and then again, raking over that same spot until he’s almost certain that if he does anymore Geralt will actually begin to bleed. Geralt trembles against his back, jerking with every scratch, and Jaskier chokes on a breath when Geralt suddenly begins to press in, cock twitching weakly. He goes fast- hardly gives Jaskier time to adjust to the heady feeling of stretching so deliciously around his girth before he’s snapping his hips. One hand braces beside Jaskier’s head and the other grips his hip with almost crushing force, Geralt snarling and panting in Jaskier’s ear. Jaskier moans and whines at each hard press of Geralt’s hips, spreading his legs wider to create a more stable base as Geralt desperately tries to pound him into the bed.

Jaskier can feel his orgasm rushing up on him again, and he reaches back, grabbing a fistful of Geralt’s hair and tugging him down to kiss him desperately. He keens into Geralt’s mouth when Geralt shifts his hips, slamming against his prostate and shoving him over the edge. Jaskier clamps sinfully tight as he comes, pulling at Geralt’s hair and sobbing against his lips as he spills onto the bed sheets. Geralt doesn’t let up though, sitting up and planting Jaskier in his lap. This angle has Jaskier shuddering with each thrust, eyelids fluttering madly as Geralt grinds directly against his prostate. The feeling quickly becomes pleasurable to the point of pain, and Jaskier whimpers. Geralt’s lips curve into a smile against his, and he wraps one hand around Jaskier’s softening cock. Jaskier shies away from the touch, it’s too much, too soon- but there’s nowhere to go, and Geralt continues to roll his hips, grinding against his prostate and forcing Jaskier to fuck up into his hand. 

Jaskier rocks between those two torturous sensations, crying out when he’s forced very quickly into a second dry orgasm that has him shaking like a leaf in Geralt’s lap. Geralt drops his hand from Jaskier’s cock finally, petting at his stomach and allowing Jaskier to settle heavily in his lap. He purrs in Jaskier’s ear, tugging the collar of his shirt out of the way and leaving soft, gentle kisses along the column of his neck. Jaskier focuses solely on breathing so he doesn’t pass out, whining whenever he shifts and Geralt’s cock presses deeper into him.

“Okay?” His voice is thick with arousal, but Geralt nuzzles sweetly at his neck and Jaskier can’t help but squeeze around his cock. 

“Cruel, torturous witcher.” His voice cracks, wrecked from Geralt fucking his throat, and Geralt chuckles throatily. 

“I warned you.” Jaskier hums, knowing he’d brought that particular punishment on himself and finding he can’t stop himself from pulling on the handful of Geralt’s hair he still holds. Geralt growls, pressing sharp fangs against the meat of Jaskier’s shoulder in warning. He mumbles against Jaskier’s skin, warm breath making him shiver. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“Mmm, I think I’ll be okay. Haven’t even finished yet.” Jaskier pulls again and tightens around Geralt’s cock, calling Geralt’s name when he snaps his hips up roughly. Their skin slaps together obscenely as they settle into a rhythm- Jaskier lifting himself off as far as he can before Geralt drags him back down, thrusting up to bury himself deep. He can’t say he’s ever had someone fill him up quite like Geralt does, and the angle is more heavenly than he’s ever had before. It doesn’t take much more coaxing from Jaskier for Geralt’s hips to stutter, Jaskier giving one last harsh pull on his lover’s hair before Geralt is snarling, shoving up and spilling inside of him. Jaskier cries out when pain lances through his right shoulder, Geralt’s fangs sinking deep into the meat near his neck as he comes, holding Jaskier tight against him. Jaskier’s not sure that pain on this level is supposed to be hot, but he melts bonelessly back against Geralt, shivering as something akin to an orgasm washes through him. The feeling makes his legs tremble and his cock give a valiant twitch, but Jaskier is thoroughly spent and it’s all he can do not to fall asleep in Geralt’s arms right now. 

Geralt rolls his hips up, grinding as he works himself through his orgasm before finally going still. Moonlight washes over the both of them, but it’s weaker, and Jaskier knows dawn isn’t too far off now. Jaskier releases his hold on Geralt’s hair, petting the tangled fibers down flat and crooning softly as Geralt comes back to himself. It takes a few minutes, but once he realizes Jaskier’s blood is in his mouth and his teeth are still very much sunk into Jaskier’s flesh he pulls back gingerly. Jaskier hisses at the pain that trickles through his shoulder as Geralt lets go, and twin lines of blood drip down his chest and soak into the black fabric of Geralt’s shirt. Jaskier tries to twist his neck to look back at Geralt, but the movement sends a fresh wave of pain through his shoulder and more blood trickles from the wounds. Jaskier settles down again instead, reaching to take one of Geralt’s hands in his for a moment and peeking out of the corner of his eye.

There’s blood on Geralt’s lips still, and some smeared along his chin, but the sight doesn’t bother Jaskier as much as it should. Geralt on the other hand, looks stricken, eyes wide and scared. He can smell the harsh copper of Jaskier’s blood, can taste it on his tongue, and shame sweeps through him when his cock twitches inside of Jaskier against his will. “I’m- I-” 

Jaskier shifts in his lap, lifting up until Geralt slips out of him and he can turn to sit face to face in Geralt’s lap again. Despite Geralt’s growing horror at what he’s done, Jaskier’s eyes are bright and full of love, and he tips forward, kissing at Geralt’s neck before sinking his teeth deep in one smooth movement. Jaskier’s teeth aren’t nearly as sharp as Geralt’s and he hears Geralt’s skin crunch horribly before giving way. Despite the waning moon Geralt lets out a noise somewhere between a growl, a snarl and a hiss, grabbing at Jaskier’s thighs and wrenching their hips together. His shoulders twitch madly as fire lights along his nerves all over again. It’s hard to stay coherent with pain surging through his neck, but the moon’s influence is weaker and Geralt masters himself with a couple of deep breaths. Jaskier’s mouth and chin are bloody to match when he pulls back, and Geralt watches in helpless fascination as Jaskier licks his blood off his lips. 

“There,” Jaskier says, sitting back a bit and smiling. “Now we match.”

“Jaskier, I could’ve-”

“Hurt me? As I said before love, you didn’t do anything that won’t heal, or that I didn’t want.” Jaskier’s gaze is soft and patient, and he presses his forehead to Geralt’s, just breathing for a minute. Geralt matches his ragged breaths with Jaskier’s slow and even ones, and soon his heart settles back into it’s slow, heavy patter. 

“You- wanted that?”

“Every bit of it.” Geralt stares, waiting for Jaskier to break down and admit how scared he was- is- but Jaskier does no such thing. He only presses a soft, coppery kiss to Geralt’s lips and slides from his lap. “But, I wouldn’t mind if you felt inclined to sneak us a bath.” 

Jaskier stays behind in the room while Geralt tugs on pants, feeling filthy but knowing he can’t wander the keep naked in this cold. Geralt has a tub in his room, and he brings that up the stairs before venturing down to hope that there’s enough hot water left in the kitchen to get the both of them sufficiently clean. His neck throbs with every step that he takes, but his wounds have already clotted and by tomorrow they’ll be halfway healed. Jaskier won’t have the same luck, even with the salve they have, but they’ll have to take it one step at a time. He’s in the kitchen, dumping more water into the pot and using Igni to hurry the warming process along when Lambert and Eskel come in, arms crossed. 

Geralt ignores them, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms as well. Neither of them say anything as they go about grabbing a late night snack, but as always, Lambert is the first to crack. 

“So,” He starts, and Eskel groans. “What happened to the whole not hurting him thing?”

Geralt shrugs, uncomfortable with the reminder, but Eskel comes to his rescue. “Please, look at his back and neck. I think Geralt had more to worry about than Jaskier did.”

That makes Geralt chuckle, and Lambert takes another good look at him before whistling low. “Damn, the White Wolf looks awful red.”

“Fuck off.” Geralt says, but there’s no malice in it and he has to keep himself from smiling. Eskel doesn’t let Lambert say anything else before dragging him away, and Geralt lugs the hot water up to the room. Jaskier is sitting at the table, staring at the bloody wound on his shoulder through the small mirror he’d brought with them. Geralt’s stomach flops as he nudges the door shut, and he pours the hot water into the tub to cool down some before they climb in. Jaskier has finally shed Geralt’s shirt, and he smiles when Geralt comes over to gently touch the skin near the wound. Jaskier shivers lightly at the touch, snagging Geralt’s hand and pressing a warm kiss to his palm. 

“Right as rain, love. Want to help me with the sheets?” Geralt grunts, but doesn’t actually let Jaskier help in stripping down and changing sheets. The only thing he lets Jaskier do is get himself in the tub, sinking low into the water and sighing happily. He keeps his shoulders above the water, and when Geralt strips to join him Jaskier winces. “Sorry love.”

“Hmm?” Jaskier gestures for him to come close, and he traces soft fingertips over the marks on Geralt’s thigh. The blood vessels beneath his skin have burst, leaving dots of red-purple in nail shaped trails down the side of his thigh. Geralt bends down to kiss the top of Jaskier’s head, slipping into the bathtub behind him and resolutely ignoring the way the heat prickles uncomfortably at his thigh. “Right as rain.” 

Jaskier laughs at the mimicry, leaning back against Geralt’s chest and closing his eyes. “So, this happens every month?”

“Making plans?”

“Well, I’d hate to get us banned from every inn we stay in.” Geralt laughs softly, tucking his cheek against Jaskier’s and gently kissing at his shoulder. 

“We’ll figure something out.” 

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #major sluttiness #nsft #winter prompts

[tinyboxxtink]

“My Fairy Abogado” *Part 5*

What do you do when you’re at a block for a plot? Throw some smutty smut in there! 

I’m kidding, I think I have an idea where to go. But I wanted to practice the smutty writing-- I know you all hate that. 😉

Warning: SMUT SMUT SMUT all SMUT

Tag List:

@wanniiieeee

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@word-scribbless

@dumauier

@objection-argumentative

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 6

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

“Chloe! You should be in bed,” 

“I wanted some water-- what is Rafael doing here?” 

“He was uh…” You racked your brain for an excuse. 

“I was checking on you, princesa,” Rafael approached the stairs, a glass of water in his hand. 

“Aww really?” 

“Of course, I want to make sure you and your siblings are safe,” He gave her a small hug as he handed her the water. 

“I knew Beto was wrong!” Chloe smiled happily as she trotted back off to bed. Rafael turned around to give you a look. 

“...And what exactly was Beto wrong about?” 

“He’s just trying to be protective,” You waved it off, approaching the stairs.

“Now, do you wanna talk about my brother or do you want to resume?” 

“I mean, should we? If Chloe’s still up…”

“Chloe will pass out in 2 minutes, tops-- And my door has a lock, guapo,” You smirked. 

“Well lead the way hermosa,” His grin was devilish, he bent down so that you could jump on his back. You did so, nibbling on his ear as he walked up the stairs.

“Ay, carino do you want me to drop you?” He whispered, trying to suppress a moan of pleasure. 

“Please don’t,” You stopped, not wanting any more interruptions. “There,” You pointed to your bedroom...well, your parents bedroom that you were sleeping in while they were gone. He opened the door and tossed you on the bed, locking the door behind him. 

“Wait is this your--?” 

“Is that a problem?” 

“Well, I mean it’s-- weird,” 

You walked over to your parents dressed and placed their wedding photo face down. 

“Better?” 

“Much,” He pulled you back onto the bed, lifting your tank top over your head and revealing your breasts. They were never anything special, you were kind of embarrassed by how small they were compared to most of the chicas down here. 

To your surprise, Rafa just sat there and stared at them. He then cupped each one in his long fingers, his touch was exquisite. You let out a small moan, which seemed to get him going even more. He gripped them tighter, drawing out a louder moan from you. 

“Your turn,” You grabbed his belt and practically ripped it off, causing a husky growl from him. 

“Alright honey, you better leave the undressing to me. I’d like to leave here with them still in one piece,” He shook his head as he pulled off his t-shirt and jeans, revealing navy blue silk boxers with a very VERY large erection sticking out of them. 

You almost cried, it was so beautiful. 

“...Can I…?” You whispered, still admiring it. 

“By all means,” He grinned, stepping closer against the bed. 

You gripped his shaft in your hands, your long nails softly scratching against it. You heard a small moan come from Rafa, egging you on. You loved seeing men squirm under you, it was a control thing. You tightened your grip as you continued to move up and down, you felt his knees jerking. 

“You okay there, counselor?” 

“...Yeah….” His eyes were closed, the pleasure in him taking over his entire mind. 

“We better switch, I can’t have you passing out on my floor,” You giggled, pulling him onto the bed.  “Now flip over, papi,” You cooed, and he obeyed. 

Now he was fully under your control, helpless to your touch. You could feel yourself getting wet just looking at his aroused grin. 

“Tell me what you want, papi,” You whispered, trailing your nails down his chest and torso in a tickling manner. 

“Mmmmmmpphhhh” He couldn’t even speak, he just bit his lip and moaned as your fingers went lower and lower, ending with you cupping his balls in your hands. You massaged them lightly, his moans growing louder and longer every second. You studied every movement his face made as you continued; his eye twitches, the licking of his lips. You wanted more. 

You ever so slowly lowered yourself down to his waist, softly licking the tip of his erection. A deep, guttural moan erupted from him. 

“Babe, people are sleeping,” You giggled quietly, loving every second of this. You put your mouth softly onto where you had licked, slowly moving down his shaft while tickling his balls in your hand. His whole body began to grind under your mouth, he gripped your bed sheets tightly doing his best to stay quiet. 

When his entire shaft was in your mouth and a bit down your throat, you clamped down hard, moving up and down quickly and hard. Rafa grabbed a pillow next to him and threw it over his face, loud moans and a bit of a scream came from under it.  Suddenly, you removed your head and sat up a bit.

“You know, maybe we should wait,” You grinned evilly, the pillow flew from his face, revealing an almost in pain Rafael.

“Don’t you DARE,” He practically growled.

“Beg me,” You gave him a tongued smile. 

“Por favor, hermosa...por favor,” He practically whined, his puppy dog eyes in full effect. You always loved it when guys talked in spanish during romantic endeavors, it always sounded way more sexy in your native tongue. 

“Bueno, si insistes…” You winked, the look in his eyes told you he felt the same way about the language fetish. 

You resumed your position, his full shaft in your mouth while tickling his balls. However, his moans were getting too much for you. You removed your mouth and used your free hand to continue the massage motion as you leaned over and popped open the bedside table. You grabbed a condom and ripped it open with your mouth. The sound caused Rafael’s eyes to open, his eyes droopy with arousal. 

“This okay papi?” You placed it on his dick, rolling it down the side.

He responded by sitting up and pulling you onto him, practically popping you right on top of his dick. The sudden sensation of his huge erection inside you caused your own moaning and squirming to start. You tried wrapping your legs around him so you could ride him cowgirl style, but he took both of your hands and rolled you over, so that he was now straddling you. 

“Ah ah ah, papi likes to be in control,” He almost snarled, drool dripping down his lips. 

“Oh does he?” You smirked, half disappointed you gave up control so soon, half enticed to be dominated. 

“Si,” He kept your hands pinned against the headboard as he began pumping in and out of you, fiercely nibbling your neck. Now it was your turn to grab a pillow, throwing it over your face to shriek into it. 

“Si, gritar por mí hermosa,” He chuckled, now very amused at having you in sorts. 

“Ay, papi…” You muttered under the pillow. 

“Si….?” He pumped harder, whispering into your ear. 

“I’m going to…” You bit your lip as he continued to scramble your insides. You swore his dick was all the way into your intestines by this point. 

“Go for me, carino,” He purred. “Let it all go,” 

That was all it took, you took his cue almost immediately. Your thighs began twitching, your legs shaking erratically as you felt your orgasm crashing over your entire body. You felt it in your entire body. Your fingertips tingle, your toes curled. You screamed so hard into the pillow you swore you might smother yourself under it. 

“My turn,” You heard him chuckle, but you were miles away. You barely felt him pump a few more times and then shake against your limp body with a roar, finally releasing and collapsing on top of you. You both just laid there for a minute, both lost in your own ecstasy. 

After a minute you blinked, slowly returning to consciousness. You felt Rafa’s hands stroking your hair and your sight focused into staring right into his sparkling green eyes. 

“That was…” His eyes looked off into the distance, trying to find the words.

“Yeah, me too,” You giggled, pulling him into you for a soft kiss. 

“I feel comfortable inside of you,” He ran a hand down your side, from your shoulders down to your thighs. 

“Well that’s a new one,” You snickered. 

“Seriously, I could just fall asleep right here,” He moved both of his arms to wrap around your neck, pulling himself deeper into you, his head leaning against your breasts. Your nerves were still sensitive from the earth shattering orgasm earlier, so it felt like an extra bonus.

“Mmmmm...me too,” You closed your eyes and sighed happily, stroking his hair gently.

You were both so at peace and so safe in each other’s bodies, somehow the next thing you knew, there was a pounding at your door. 

----------

“Y/N!!!!!! Beto is hogging the bathroom!!!” You heard Yaz’s muffled yelling through the door. “Why is your door locked?!” 

It took you a second to wake from the best sleep you’d had since you moved back home, but when you did you went to instant panic. You pushed a still half asleep Rafa off you, where he promptly fell off the bed onto the floor. 

“Ow?!” He groaned, you slapped at him to be quiet.

“What was that?” You heard Yaz through the door. 

“Uh, nothing! I stubbed my toe,” You lied, plucking a now dry condom from your insides. You tried not to gag as you tossed into the trash can. You grabbed Rafael’s clothes and tossed them at him. 

“You stay here, until they leave for school,” You instructed him as you grabbed your shorts and tank top, throwing them on and unlocking the door. 

“What’s up?” You peeked the door open. 

“Can I use your bathroom? Beto locked ours,” Yaz asked.

“No!!!” 

“....Why not?” 

“I uh...I got sick last night, it’s gross in here,” You made a face.

“Are you ok?” 

“Oh yeah, I’m still a little icky. So I think I’m gonna--” As you rattled off an excuse the bathroom door flew open and Beto walked out.

“Oh! Well, there ya go, Yaz. You good?” 

“....Yeah,” She looked at you suspiciously. 

“Y/N where 's Rafael?” Chloe came walking out of her room. 

“Excuse me? Rafael was here last night?” Beto walked towards you.

“Yeah he was checking on us, because he's one of the good guys Beto!” 

“YES, yes. Uh, Rafael came by last night. But he…” you glanced over at a still naked and smirking Rafael. 

“You bet I came,” He whispered, making you blush. 

“But he left,” You whipped your head back to face your siblings through the crack in your door.

“....Mmmkay,” Beto shook his head.

“Ok, have fun at school guys! I’ll see you later,” You waved and quickly slammed the door, leaning against it. Rafael, now in his boxers, walked up behind you. 

“That was close,” He chuckled. You went to kiss him but--

“Y/N!!!!”

You suddenly heard rampant footsteps up the stairs and a pounding at your door. You pulled it open, Rafael standing behind it out of sight.

“BETO! Jesus Christ what--” 

“WHY is this downstairs?” Beto held up Rafael’s leather jacket.

“Why...WHY is there a leather jacket downstairs?” You said out loud, glancing at Rafael who was mouthing “OOPS”.  

“He must have forgotten it,” You smiled nervously. 

“Bullshit. Is he still--” Beto went to push your door open wider, but the sound of the bus horn saved you. 

“Oh! That’s the bus! You don’t wanna miss it!” You grabbed the jacket from him and pushed him to go down the stairs. 

“Yeah... you tell him this isn’t over,” Beto growled, heading downstairs and out the door. 

“Oooooh I’m quaking in my boots,” Rafael came up behind you, taking the jacket from your hands and kissing your ear. 

“Not funny,” You spun around to face him. 

“A little funny,” he nodded, pulling you into a kiss. 

“Now what am I gonna do with you, it’s broad daylight! You can’t walk out of here,” You stroked his hair. 

“Well...what time do you open?”

“In like…” You grabbed your phone. “3 hours,” 

“Well, I know what we can do until then,” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Don’t you have a big boy job there, abogado?”

“What abogado? I don’t see an abogado…” He looked around mockingly. 

“Ha ha. You know what I mean,” 

“I can hang out here for a bit, I just texted my office I had to go see a judge about something before my case today,”

“Lying now, abogado? This doesn’t bode well with you handling my case,” 

“Well I handled you pretty well last night,” He smirked, slapping your ass. 

“That you did,” You smirked. “In fact, it’s still all over me!” You gestured to your waist and legs, covered in “dried Rafael”. 

“Oooh, sounds like you need a shower,” 

“Sounds like we both do,” You grinned, pulling him into your parent’s bathroom.

Time to clean up!

#rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction #law and order svu smut #rafael barba x you smut #rafael barba x reader smut #warning #my fairy abogado

[tamsin-moon]

Bad Day

Notes: This is basically stemming from a very bad day at work for me. Charles Smith x GN Reader . No warnings really, pretty much just fluff in the end.

If one more thing went wrong today you were going to scream. It did not matter where you were or who was there it would happen. Suffice to say it had been a bad day.

First you had woken up to the smell of something burning and would find the wind had kicked up a few minutes prior and had blown some kindling from the fire onto your tent. Awake and on your feet quick you would just be getting outside as Bill would toss a bucket of water onto the just sprouting flames and you in the process. Sputtering you pushed your hair back from your face as the top half of you was now wet, but you would give him a nod, “Thanks Bill.” Of course you would thank him and just waved off his apologies, just an accident right?

You would try to push it from your mind as you just decided to get dressed for the day in your usual attire. The day was warm so your hair would dry eventually and you were not worried about that, but then the second thing would happen. Getting to the percolator you would pick it up to find it empty only to hear Strauss apologize as he had just poured the last cup. Once again you waved it off, you had more grounds in your things so you did not mind having to brew another pot of it. It happened and it would give you a chance to look around for your man as you made your way.

Unfortunately it seemed that Charles was not in camp which deflated your already sinking mood and Hosea must have caught your look, telling you the man had headed out about an hour prior with Javier. Something about a stagecoach and needing to be there in time for it. Thanking him for the information you would continue your walk towards your tent when you would hear Pearson calling out to you. Biting back a groan as it really seemed you would not be getting that coffee you would come to be right as you stepped over to the cook.

“I hate to bother you right away like this, but seems like that hot day we had yesterday pushed the meat to a rotting point. I don’t have anything fresh to start tonight’s stew with, would you mind?” He ask and while you wanted to say no because at this rate your day was destined to be a terrible one you would just nod and let out a sigh, “I will see what I can do.” Turning from him then you would stride to your tent fully this time and rubbed your face as you slipped into it.

Grabbing your satchel and hat after a moment you emerged once again and headed towards the horses, telling Kieran where you were off to and swinging up into your saddle. Checking your weapons quick you would give your horses neck a pat before nudging her to walk and making your way out of camp. You would keep it simple for today, just a couple turkeys or something as there were always flocks around and then you could drag one of the guys off for a longer hunt tomorrow you reasoned. Hopefully Charles would be back and free by then, but your hopes were not high at this point.

Keeping alert as you got a safe distance from camp you would look for any signs of the birds or anything really, but once again your luck seemed non-existent. Well, you were not going to go back empty handed so would just make your way farther out and eventually got to an open spot of the Heartlands. Getting out your binoculars you would look around and almost breathed in relief as you spotted a herd of deer a bit off, it would definitely do for now as you did not want to keep Pearson waiting too long so you head that way.

Your horse content as they usually were it did not take long and you stopped just enough back to not spook them before dismounting. Getting your bow of course you would stay low and had a small thought that maybe your day was turning around as you got close enough. Looking them over you soon took aim and cleanly took down a decent looking doe that you would be able to lift. Usually you hunted fowl or smaller game by yourself as you were not the strongest in the group, but you could manage when you had to. This being one of those times you whistled for your horse as you stepped up to the carcass and luckily your horse was a patient one as you heaved the thing up and onto their back.

Getting it secure you would be up in the saddle again, securing your bow and turning to start heading back. Everything finally going smoothly until you heard shouts for help. Mentally cursing your conscious you would be turning towards the shouts without even thinking, pushing your horse to a trot an up a ridge. Eyes casting around you spot a man in a tree with a cougar trying to jump at him, but the feline would notice you quickly. This time you would curse aloud and were grabbing your rifle as your horse noticed the predator coming closer.

Doing your best to soothe your mount so they didn’t buck you while taking aim you would take the shot just as the cat pounced. Hissing in pain you felt its claw get your leg as it fell dead, not deep thanks to your jeans, but enough to hurt and probably bleed. Your horse near rearing you would grip the saddle to not fall and once again called soothing words, relieved as it settled again and turning to just head away from the scene.

You did not care as the man called out thanks to you and asked about the cougar carcass, just giving him a wave over your shoulder, he could have it for all you cared at this point. You were ready to scream honestly and if one more thing happened you were probably going to. Your focus shifting to solely getting back, giving Pearson the deer and getting your leg cleaned up you almost missed Lenny calling out to you as you reached camp and calling a harsh, “Just me!” before passing him.

Reaching the hitching post what seemed a minute later you would be down once again, hissing as you put weight on your leg, but a familiar coat catching your eye did finally have a glimmer of happy moving through you. You would look fully to see Taima in her usual spot and knew it meant your man was back as well. About to look around would be when you felt strong arms wrapping around you from behind and that warm voice in your ear, “There you are” before a kiss was brushed to your temple. For the first time that day a smile would slip onto your lips, just a small one though, as you turned around in his grasp.

You would notice his eyes studying your face, reading you as he could so well, before he was leaning down to brush a kiss to your lips, “Let me get the deer to Pearson and I will meet you in our spot” he tell you gently and it sounded like the best thing in the world to you. Not trusting your words at the moment, though, you would just nod before you were parting. Not realizing you were limping slightly you would head towards the overlook area and behind one of the large rocks to slowly settle on the grass.

As Charles had said, it was your spot, sure others came out there now and again, but like now when most were engaged elsewhere it was quiet and the rock blocked anyone’s view. Back leaning against the cool, rough surface you would close your eyes a moment, only opening them as you heard footsteps and would see your love. Blinking as he had bandages and a jar you would give him a sheepish look as he settled next to you and patted his lap for your leg, “I saw you limping, what happened?”

The question was expected and you would let out a sigh as you gently settled the limb onto his lap as he wished, watching him pull up the leg of your jeans and frowning at the scratch. Finding your voice you would tell him of the cougar as he dabbed the salve from the jar onto the wound and gently wrapped it. You would see the fear flash across his eyes and knew he was thinking for a moment how much worse it could have been. Reaching a hand to take one of his you would give it a reassuring squeeze, “Just a scratch” you assure him to pull him from his thoughts and he nod.

Once he was sure your wound was tended properly he would shift to sit next to you, arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you against his chest as yours shift to wrap around his stomach, “That isn’t everything that happened today though, is it?” He could just tell it wasn’t, he had learned to read you well even though you had not been in a romantic relationship long, and he would listen as you tell him everything that had happened that day. Not speaking until you had gotten out every word you just felt him hold you tighter, his other hand coaxing your chin up so he could press a slow kiss to your lips.

It was comforting and you would feel yourself slowly beginning to relax more, the venting having helped immensely as well, “I am sorry I wasn’t here when you woke, I did not realize we would be leaving so early” he apologize and you would shake your head, kissing him again slowly. Of all things that day you were not mad at him, sure you had missed him that morning, but you understood jobs like that came up.

Hand coming to cup his cheek you brush a thumb over his cheekbone softly, “It’s ok, you’re here now and thank you for wrapping my leg.” You tell him honestly of course before you were settling back against him, your head finding his shoulder and soon feeling his head against yours. Not even realizing it you both would soon be nodding off into a nap, the sun warm and just being with each other the best comfort you could ask for.

#rdr2 reader insert #charles smith x reader #charles smith #gn reader #charles smith x gn reader

[ssa-daddyhotchner]

Undercover - Chapter 20

Chapter Selection

I woke with Aarons wrapped around my waist. I let out an exhale and he held on tighter. I put my hand on his and turned to face him. He was pretending to sleep, running my hand through his hair he fluttered his eyes open. 

"Morning beautiful", he smiled at me and pulled him closer. Grabbing my thighs and pulling me on top of him, "Ok you have energy this morning." I said chuckling, he brought me down to his lips and kissed me softly. 

I grinned into the kiss pulling away and looking around. "We got to sort through our stuff today, but before that what do we want for breakfast." He shrugged and held onto my hips moving them. I didn't notice the movement until I let out an involuntary moan. 

I smirked down at him, "Really." I raised my eyebrows. I moved off of him and got in between his legs. I pulled his boxers down to reveal his already hard cock. I placed my hand around the base and stroked him. 

Running my finger over the tip spreading the pre cum. "Y/n", he groaned as I licked up his shaft wrapping my mouth around his tip, hollowing my cheeks. 

I took my time pumping matching my movements to my mouth; His hands traveled from my cheek to gripping my hair. He was guiding me, not forcing. Aarons eyes stayed on me, he was trying to keep them open. 

I swirled my tongue around his tip, he gazed at me in admiration.  

I pulled my mouth off, "Baby, just enjoy it." He tossed his head into the pillow and closed his eyes. I picked up the pace pumping him. His hips bucked forward, forcing himself in deeper. He hit the back of my throat gagging around him.

"Y/n...", he pulled my hair into a ponytail and held my head still while he used me. Jerking his hips upwards he started doing to work. I could feel him pulsing with every stroke. He was letting me know he was close. 

I was bobbing my head, taking deep breaths. I closed my eyes, stopping the tears from spilling. I could feel him tensing up and I swallowed every drop. I let him ride out his high slowing down but not stopping all together. 

He cupped my face, bringing me to his lips, "Better?" I said giggling. He tried putting his hand into my waistband but I put my hand over his. He looked up at me, "Do you wanna stop." I nodded and he understood. 

I got off his lap and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Aaron followed me pecking my shoulder and resting his head. "Thank you for telling me." 

"You know I'd tell you", he places his hands on my hips. "I know just saying." We finished up and headed to the living room and we saw everything. All of my stuff huddled in a corner. They offered to help but I didn't wanna bother them. 

We needed to do this ourselves. I unlocked the door and stepped out to get the mail. I sorted through all of it and walked inside tossing it on the counter. I saw a little envelope; I opened it and took out a card. 

The front said congratulations It read: 

Bear, 

How's my baby, I called the doctors a few days ago. 

I called out for Aaron and he rushed into the kitchen. "What is it?", I handed him the letter. 

"He knew I was pregnant", he scanned the card. It was hand written and there was no address; it was hand delivered. I knew he wanted to get me pregnant, judging that I checked the mail yesterday there wasn't a note or card he doesn't know I got an abortion. 

He wasn't gonna take it lightly that I 'killed his kid'. Within those few seconds I was terrified; I didn't know what he was going to do. "Aaron", I choked out. He dropped the letter down and walked over to me. He held my head to his chest and whispered in my ear. 

The brimming tears never left my eyes, I refused to let them fall. "You got to get your mind off of it. Until we can do something about this lets just continue like normal", he mumbled. I held onto him not letting go. 

He finally pulled away and we started to go on with our day. Organizing which of our stuff is worth keeping to make room. We ended up splitting the furniture in half; keeping a bit of both. Jack was dropped off by Jessica. 

I put a nail in the wall about to hang one of my photos when Jack was underneath me tugging on my pants, "Y/n, can I help." 

"Sure buddy", I picked him and he hung the photo. As Aaron was in the bedroom organizing he heard banging a laughter, he grinned to himself. "Daddy!", he heard from down the hall. He dropped his stuff and walked out. 

He saw me holding Jack by one of the photos, "Look what I did."

 Aaron turned and saw my pictures, "Buddy you did so well." He showed a toothy grin. I set him down and he ran into his bedroom. He brought out some toys, "can you play with me." I nodded and he dumped it on the carpet of the living room. 

Aaron went into the kitchen and made some mac and cheese for Jack. When he finished it he brought it to the table and all of us started eating. Jack was happy, and I stuffed my face. I was finished with the food first and I put my bowl in the sink. I felt eyes staring at me, I glanced over and saw Aaron staring. 

"What", I was chuckling as I walked over to get the other dishes. He cracked a smile, "Nothing." I shook my head and started to do the dishes. Jack was feeling tired from the food and he went to his room to sleep.                                                                    

 Aaron made sure he was asleep before he walked up behind me putting his hands on my hips. I was scrubbing one of the pots; he was being distracting; he lined kisses up down my neck. I let out a quiet moan thinking he wouldn't have heard me. 

I was too focused on Aaron. I didn't realize the water was just running. "Don't let me distract you." I continue to work, "Now?" I felt him nod into my neck.

"There's not a better time, he's sleeping and we have work tomorrow. As much as I would love to bend your pretty little ass over my desk I don't think our coworkers will like that very much; hearing you scream my name. And of course I didn't get to pay you back for this morning." 

His hands slipped into my waistband; he trailed a finger over my pussy and laid a cold finger over my clit. He set a pace of slow circles, I leaned back into him trying to focus on the task at hand. His arms secured around me holding me up a bit. 

I finished on the pot and was washing the last few dishes. Aaron added more pressure and made quicker movements. I rested my head on my shoulder, "Aaron." 

"What do you want", his voice lowered. I reached out and turned off the water setting the bowl down. "I want to cum", he hummed and dipped his other hand in my pants ghost over. He teased me and slipped in two fingers into my pussy. 

I gained enough to dry off my hands and I reached back and held onto him. My moans were getting louder, "Shh shh, You got to be quiet baby." 

I was whimpering, Aaron pushed in a third finger and spread them out, stretching me. "I'm so close." He kissed my shoulder, collarbone, and up my jaw. "You can cum sweetheart." My stomach tightened and I finished on his fingers. 

As my breathing regulated I grabbed his hand and sucked on his fingers twirling my tongue around them. The sight in front of him made him let out a groan. He grabbed my waist and pulled me towards him. 

He set a needy kiss on my lips, "Love you." I grinned walking into the living room getting comfortable. "I know." 

________________________

The baby would've been two months today assuming Mark was the father. I was standing in the kitchen heating up some food I had made the night before and I felt hands on my hips. It was 2am I wasn't sure why he'd be up. 

I tensed under the man's touch and he realized so he stepped in front of me. "It's just me", Aaron's voice was low and raspy. He reached out and cupped my cheek; I subconsciously leaned into. I still hadn't said a word. 

"You okay?", he knew what day it was. I closed my eyes and sat on the counter. My eyes filled with tears that never fell. Aaron stood in between my legs; pulling him into a hug my head rested on his bare shoulder. 

He was whispering into my ear letting me know I wasn't alone and he was there for me. He pulled apart when my food was done in the microwave. I hopped off the counter and carried the hot dish to the living room. 

I settled on the couch turning on tv. I saw Aaron give me a weak smile as he was turning the corner to go back to bed. "Aaron, can you stay?", he started back towards the couch. 

"Of course princess", he sat in the corner pulling the blanket onto us. 

__________________________

I woke to my arm getting tugged; my eyes fluttered open and Jack was staring at me, trying to get me to wake up. "Fuck", I said quietly but my jolt woke Aaron that was asleep on the couch with me. "Y/n, you gotta get up. I have school." 

My eyes opened fully and I saw the clock. It was 8:30, Jack had school at 9:30. "Shit Aaron get up, come on buddy let's get you ready." I smacked Aarons arm and he sat up rubbing his eyes. I helped Jack get dressed and brush his teeth while Aaron gave him some food. 

Aaron got ready for work putting on his suit and I wasn't ready at all. We were already late, "I'm gonna head in, can you take Jack to school?" I nodded, I forgot the time and Jack came back from behind me. 

"Y/n, we gotta go. Bye daddy", he gave him a hug and a kiss and we were out the door. Luck was totally on my side; I had hit practically every light. Having to constantly stop. 

We got to the school 20 minutes late, they had already locked the doors. I had to buzz in, the door popped open and we went to the office. The woman at the desk gave me a smile and she looked at Jack. 

I say the late sheet and I started filling it out. Once it was done we were about to part ways but the women stopped me. Jack stopped also; he noticed I wasn't following. "Forgive me but how do you know Jack?" 

For some reason this was the awkward part, "I'm his dad's girlfriend. He said I'd be able to drop him off." She gave me a puzzled look.

"You can but I'm going to need to call Mr. Hotchner." I let out a sigh and bend down. I pulled him into a hug and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

"Honey, you can go, I just need to sort something out." I smiled and walked to class. 

She got Aaron on the line, "Hotchner." 

"Hi sorry to bother you but I have a." She so I could tell her my name. "Y/n Y/l/n." 

"Y/n Y/l/n here, she dropped off Jack. I was curious if I should add her to the list." 

"Thank you for letting me know and yes please." The women at the desk hung up the phone and put me on the list for Jack so I could pick him up. I signed some papers and I headed home to get work. 

I was still tired, I threw on a white dress shirt and some black pants. I had to drive myself which was weird; I had been riding with Aaron for the past 11 months. I was an hour and thirty late for work. I walked into the elevator. 

Going into the bullpen I was getting eyes from the team, some small smiles and winks. I ignored them, I walked to my desk. I was pulled from my work again, "Y/n can I see you for a moment." I tossed my head back and sighed. 

"You two okay?", Morgan said from behind me. I nodded and walked up the stairs into Hotch's office. "What is it?" He gestured for me to sit. 

"The thing I'm about to tell you... I don't know how you're going to take it so uh I'm just gonna say it. I just got a call from the hospital in Hawaii. I was wondering why they didn't send the rape kit... it's because they don't have it." My heart fell into my stomach. I held it together on the outside but I was cracking on the inside. 

Without that kit the court can't do anything. The only 'evidence' he raped me was my word and that doesn't work for women. The kit would've changed everything, It was going to send him away. I was patiently waiting to just be told that my only chance on getting the son of a bitch was lost in another fucking state.  

He followed me, got me pregnant and stole the one thing that'd put him away. I knew he stole it, it wasn't hard; Mark was already following us all he had to do was 'come with us'. 

Hotch was now sitting in front of me, "Y/n." A single tear fell from my eye onto Aarons hand that was now on my cheek. "Thank you for telling me, I uh... have some work to do", I wiped my face and opened the door walking from his office to my desk. 

The team could see that something happened and I was upset. Hell anyone could tell, I was struggling to not let go; you didn't need to be a profiler to know I was having a bad day. The rest of the day was me burying myself in paperwork and files. 

There was a tap at my desk, "We need to work on some profiles, come on." Morgan waited for me to get up. He set a hand on my lower back and I caught him off guard pulling him in tight. He let out a gasp as the air left his lungs. 

He took soft breaths and wrapped his arms around my body. Morgan looked up at the round table room and saw the team looking back at us. Specifically Hotch was staring at him; he wasn't mad... Aaron was just hurt. 

Hurt that I felt this way, he knew there was nothing he could really do to help my case. No one was going to listen to what I had to say without the physical evidence. 

Derek held me for a few minutes speaking softly, "You wanna talk about it." I nodded and we walked into Aarons office. 

We sat on the couch, "The hospital in Hawaii called... Aaron had brought me after what happened and they did a rape kit. Well the one thing that was gonna help my case is now missing. The hospital has no idea where it went. So now I need to live knowing that fucker is gonna get away with it. You wanna know the worst part? I was- I was pregnant." 

Morgan sat there in front of me processing the information that I threw at him, "Was?"

 "Yeah", my voice was small. He reached a hand out and held mine. "Did you-." 

"Yeah"

"Baby", he gently pulled me towards him. My head rested on his shoulder. I closed my eyes and was calming down. I heard the door open and footsteps walk in, "You guys need us?" 

He tapped my back and I pulled away meeting Aaron. I grabbed his hand and we all walked to the round table. 

I sat down and they were going over the profile. Sometimes police stations only need our profile rather than having us fly all the way over there. The stations would send us every little detail about the case and we'd help them that was. 

Usually I hated it but at this moment I liked not having to leave the office. 

____________________

@mac99martin @appleblossoms-posts @donttellanyoneireadfanfiction @oreogutz @wanniiieeee @marie1115 

#aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron #aaron hotchner #hotch #SSA HOTCHNER #Thomas Gibson #hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #writing #aaron hotchner fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #Criminal Minds

[wishuhadstayed]

Bring it on Home

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Reader comforts Aaron after a particularly rough case (part 5 to Begin Again)

Warnings: slight angst

Author’s Note: loosely based on the song “Bring it on Home” by Little Big Town. Highly recommend you listen, I’ll put a link at the bottom.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Masterlist

It wasn’t long after you’d met Jack that Aaron had realized he wanted to spend every possible moment with you and asked you to move in with them. You had been shocked, of course. It was a huge step going from girlfriend to practically step-mother so quickly, but you were so in love with both of them that you couldn’t help but say yes.

It was particularly nice to have Jack around when his dad was gone on long cases, like he had been for the last week and a half. Nothing like a rambunctious five year old to keep your mind off of what danger your boyfriend might be in this week. You always kept it together for Jack’s sake, but inside you were always an anxious mess waiting for the phone to ring so you could hear his familiar voice on the line and know that he was safe.

You hadn’t been able to pry many details out of Aaron about the case he had been working, but from what little you could gather it had been the worst his team had seen for a long time.

You were just sitting down to dinner with Jack when you heard the sound you had been longing for. Heart racing, you flung back the chair and bounded to the living room to answer your ringing cell phone.

“Hey honey!”

From the other end, a somber voice.

“Hey.”

“What’s up? How’s the case?”

“It’s done. I’m coming home.”

You could tell by his tone that something wasn’t right.

At that moment you felt a small hand tug at the leg of your jeans. Jack had wandered in from the kitchen.

“Y/N, is that Daddy on the phone?”

“Yes Jack, it’s your dad.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“Of course, baby,” you say, handing over the cell.

“I love you daddy,” says Jack in the most angelic voice. You could just feel your heart melt with the sweetness.

“I love you too, buddy.”

“Are you coming home soon? I miss you.”

“Oh, Daddy misses you too, little man. I’ll be on the way soon, but you’ll probably be asleep when I get there. Can you give the phone back to Y/N, buddy?”

“Okay daddy.”

Taking the phone back from the child, you answer.

“Hey.”

“Hey. I’ll be home as soon as I can, but I may be late. You don’t have to wait up.”

“You know I can’t sleep without you. Get home safe, okay? We love you.”

“Yes ma’am. I love you too. Bye.”

You were relieved to hear that he was physically okay, but you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of emotional storm was brewing within him.

You took Jack by the hand and returned to your forgotten plates, finishing dinner quickly. After the dishes had been washed and put away, the two of you settled on the couch. Crawling into your lap, Jack fixes you with big brown eyes, just like his father’s.

“Y/N, can I stay up with you until dad gets home?”

How could you say no to that sweet cherub face? Besides, it was Friday evening. One late night wouldn’t hurt when he could sleep in the next morning.

“Alright,” you relent, ruffling his blonde hair. “You can stay up with me until your dad gets home.”

“Sweet!” He exclaims, nuzzling under your arm. You both settle in ready to start a movie. Jack manages to stay awake for a while, but as the hour grows later, the young boy struggles to keep his eyes open. He leans his head against your arm and his eyes slowly flutter shut. Not wanting to to wake him, you wait a few minutes until his breathing is slow and steady letting you know that he’s fully asleep.

Carrying him on your hip, his head on you shoulder, you slowly rise from the low sofa. Heading down the dark hallway as quietly as possible, you make it to his bedroom. You pull back the covers and lay him softly in bed. As you tuck him in he stirs just a bit. You stroke his hair and give his back a rub and he drifts back to sleep.

The next thing you knew, you’d woken up curled up with Jack in his bed. Finding him still sound asleep, you gave him a kiss on the forehead and quietly crept from his room. The digital clock on the DVR reads 11:35 pm. Surely, he should be home soon.

You head towards the kitchen get a glass of water when you hear a key in the front door lock. Thirst immediately forgotten, you dash for the entryway and there he stands lines of exhaustion prominent on his handsome face.

He’s always tired after a long case, but this is different. His broad shoulders bent as if he was carrying the weight of the world. Struggling with his suitcases, he can barely drag his feet across the hardwood floor.

“Leave them,” you say, gently placing a hand on his forearm. As he lets go of the bags, you take his hand and lead him to the sofa. Sitting him down, you easily loosen and remove his tie. Moving down to the hardwood floor, you tackle his black dress shoes next, tossing them aside. Climbing back up, you unbutton his dress shirt, setting it at the other end of the couch.

As you lie back on the couch, he eases underneath your left arm, half on top of you, his head resting on your chest. As your left hand caresses his back and tie right hand softly strokes his hair, he lets out a small sigh and the tension in his body melts away.

Kissing him on the forehead just as you had done with Jack, you ask, “Bad case?”

“The worst,” he murmurs.

“You know you can talk to me, right? I know you’re used to being the person who’s strong for everyone else, but you can’t keep things bottled up.”

Suddenly his shoulders began to quake and the tears fell. You rocked him back and forth like a child, gently consoling.

“Shhhhhhh, let it out Aaron, it’s okay.”

“No it’s not,” he interjects, gazing at you with tear filled eyes.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You ask, gingerly wiping the tears streaming down his face.

“I couldn’t save them,” he replies dejectedly. “He killed six women before we caught him.”

“But you caught him,” you remind him. “Now he can’t hurt anyone else.”

“Not good enough. Not soon enough,” he answers bitterly.

Turning his face to yours, you respond, “You can’t save everyone, Aaron. You know that. You do the best you can, and you help so many people. You make the world a better place just by being in it.”

Sniffling, he gives you a small smile.

“This is why I love you.”

“I love you too, Superman, now let’s get to bed. I know you’re worn out.”

Once in the master bedroom, you both changed. Aaron removing his undeshirt and slipping into a pair of sweatpants and you into a knee length satin night gown. Slipping underneath the blankets, he pulls your back flush to his chest.

“Good night sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear.

“Good night.”

Finally feeling his warmth next to you again, you doze off quickly. Holding you in his arms, he thinks to himself that you must be an angel. He’s not sure what he did to deserve you, but he’s infinitely glad that you’re his. Giving your shoulder a gentle shake, he rouses you.

“What going on? What time is it?” You inquire drowsily.

“I just needed to tell you something.”

“What is it?” You ask, rolling over to face him.

“You’re my best friend.”

Now it’s your turn to cry as he pulls you close.

After a few moments, you manage to squeak out a shaky “I love you, Aaron.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Just as you’re both about to go back to sleep, the door creaks open. You hear a few small steps and a sweet, tiny voice calls out, “Daddy?”

“Yeah buddy?”

“I had a bad dream.”

Reaching down, Aaron hoists the child up and into his lap.

“Bad dream, huh? You know it’s not real right? Because daddy would never let anything hurt you,” he reassures.

“I know daddy. Can I sleep with you and Y/N tonight? Just for tonight, i promise.” He pleads.

Aaron looks to you with questioning eyes for permission and you nod.

“Alright little man. Looks like we’re having a sleepover.”

You woke the next morning as the hazy sunbeams filtered in through the blinds. Jack was still snoozing away on his side with his back against your stomach. Sensing that you had woken, Aaron reaches over to stroke your hair.

“Good morning beautiful.”

Giving a sleepy smile and content sigh you replied “Mmmmm, good morning.”

“I love you, darling.”

“I love you more.”

Just then an impulsive thought crossed his mind and he had to get it out before he lost the nerve.

“Marry me,” he blurts out, instantly feeling the panic rise in his chest.

Your eyes immediately widen and your mouth drops open, mind reeling trying to make sure you just heard what you think you heard.

“Would you?” He asks, taking your hand.

“Would I what?”

“Marry me,” he repeats calmly.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I want to wake up every day for the rest of my life just like this. So I’ll ask one more time. Y/N, will you marry me?”

Your heart was pounding, but you knew your answer. Deep down, you had known it since the day you met.

“Yes Aaron, of course I’ll marry you.”

Tag list: @ange-must-die @agenthotchner @yes-sir-hotchner @hotchner-carisi @hotchners-slut @arganfics @ladyreapermc @rousethemouse @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @tgibstan @themanip @word-scribbless @quillvine @whoredonlightfoot

#aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch fluff #hotch x reader #criminal minds fluff #thomas gibson imagine #thomas gibson x reader

[not-close-to-straight]

100% Professional (Spideypool) (One)

Previously a KoFi Supporter Fic. 

MASTERLIST HERE

*************

Peter doubled checked the address on his phone at least six different times before finally approaching the doorman at the high rise apartment building and clearing his throat. 

“Hi. My name is Peter Parker and I am here for an appointment with a resident of your building?" 

The doorman looked him over, from the hair Peter had let air dry after a hasty shower, to the scuffed converse on his feet, to the blocky, heavy massage table folded into the bag over Peter’s shoulder. 

“Uh--” Peter fumbled into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “I’m a massage therapist, and he said he’d let the doorman know to expect me. The name is Mr. Wade Wilson…” the words trailed off when the doorman swiped a card through the door and swung it open immediately.

“Oh look at that.” Peter chuckled to himself and hefted his bag a little more securely onto his back. “Mr. Wilson’s name literally opens doors, huh?” 

“Top floor, end unit.” The doorman informed him, motioning Peter in to the lobby. “Have a nice day, Mr. Parker.” 

“Thank you.” Peter tossed the doorman a casual salute, and once inside the lobby, waved at the receptionist as well. “Hi there, I’m going up to Mr. Wilson’s--” 

“Top floor, end unit.” The woman didn’t even look up from her paperwork, but she hit a button that buzzed on the other side of the foyer and Peter’s eyebrows raised in surprise when the elevator doors opened automatically. “I’ll let him know you are on your way up. Have a nice day, Mr. Parker.”  

“Uh, yes ma’am.” It didn’t feel right to salute this time around so Peter settled for another slightly awkward wave and hustled over to get the elevator before the doors closed, mashing the button for the top floor. 

The elevator moved with the sort of silence that only came with very expensive buildings, and even though Peter hadn’t thought he looked terrible when he left his place an hour ago, his reflection in the mirrored elevator walls was…

….well it was less than flattering. 

“Great.” Peter groaned and scrubbed his fingers through his hair, trying to calm the wind whooshed fluff into something a little more presentable. “My new client lives on the top floor of an insanely expensive part of town, has a weirdly quiet elevator, a receptionist and door man and I look like Poppy the Troll Princess did my hair. Great first impression." 

The movie reference made Peter smile. Harry and Mary Jane’s little girl was a two foot tall red headed terror but Peter had successfully managed to distract her with repeat showings of Trolls while Harry and MJ managed a much needed date night and now, not only was Peter a Troll movie expert, but he was also Megan’s favorite babysitter which was an accomplishment all in itself. 

Of course, it was the Troll marathon and babysitting that had kept Peter up half the night, and then he'd overslept and was late to work and late getting home to shower again which had led to being late for this exact moment, where his hair looked like it had been lost a fight with an industrial sized hair dryer and the bags under his eyes were deep enough to pack clothes in. 

Wonderful. 

The elevator slid to a smooth stop and Peter sighed, picking his bag up and rearranging his expression into something hopefully approaching professional instead of exhausted. 

This was a big client. Whoever Mr. Wilson was had paid twice Peter’s usual fee just so he would come by for a meet and greet. Something about Mr. Wilson being a former soldier and having some scars, some pain issues and nerve damage-- he had told Peter over the phone, “I don’t want you to be surprised by anything, so if you’d just come by for an appointment, then we can see if you’re willing to work with me.” 

Willing to work with me. 

Right. As if Peter would turn down a job when he was still struggling to pay rent most months. Squeezing in extra classes and training for his next level therapy license while juggling a free lance position at the Daily Bugle wasn’t easy and every single penny helped. He needed to pay his phone bill damn it, and if that meant taking the subway clear to the ritzy part of town and hauling his massage table to the top of the building for a meet and greet, that’s exactly what Peter was going to do. 

So top floor, end unit it was, and Peter knocked at the door before backing up a few steps to wait for Mr. Wilson to answer. “Twice my usual fee.” Peter told himself, mentally calculating how much of that fee it would cost to get some dinner for his hour long trek back home. “Twice my usual fee just for talking, this will be fine. Twice my usual-- oh, hi!” 

He brightened up into a smile when the door swung open. “Hello Mr. Wilson, my name is Peter Parker....” 

Oh fuck, Peter didn’t mean to stop talking but there he went stopping, forgetting whatever he was going to say next and making a quiet, wheezing noise instead. “Oh. Hi.” 

“Hi.” Mr. Wilson was a few inches over six feet and filling out a fitted long sleeve with enough muscles to make Peter choke, and yet for some reason the man sounded completely uncertain, his smile just this side of anxious. “Um, thanks for coming over.” 

“It’s--” Peter raised his eyebrows and made a perfunctory attempt to pull his eyes back inside his head. “Yeah, it’s really not a problem. Wow. Hi.” 

“....Hi?” Mr. Wilson adjusted his hat over his head in an obviously nervous gesture. “You alright?” 

“Shit.” Peter shook himself and laughed self consciously. “Um, sorry. I promise I’m actually more professional than this. It’s just been a long day already and I dunno what I was expecting when you opened the door but uh... it wasn’t you. Hi.” 

“...are you checking me out right now?” Peter couldn’t tell if Mr. Wilson was horrified by the idea or thought it was funny, so he erred on the side of caution and blurted,

“No! I mean yes, but not in a weird way. More like a ‘wow look at all those muscles I definitely know the names of because I’m a professional and went to school for this’.” he nodded emphatically and tried not to feel like a dumb ass. “I was checking you out in-- in that way.” 

“Ah.” Mr. Wilson said slowly and Peter mentally screamed at himself to pull it together. “Well then. Would you like to come in?”

“I definitely would.” Moment somewhat salvaged, Peter breathed a sigh of relief and followed Mr. Wilson into the apartment, shutting the door quietly behind him. “Sorry I’m a few minutes late by the way, the subway had a weird glitch and I ended up having to catch a bus and--” 

“I’ll give you some extra money for a cab or whatever.” Mr. Wilson said offhandedly. “That’s not a problem, I know this is a long way uptown for you. Sit down where ever you want. Can I get you a drink?” 

“No thank you, I have my own water.” Peter pulled a bottle from his bag and sat gingerly on the edge of the nicest leather couch he’d ever seen. “I also brought my table. I know you said you wanted to do a meet and greet this first time around but I’d be happy to... to you know, audition if you’d like. Fifteen or twenty minutes just so you can see how we get along?” 

“I’m not worried about how we will get along.” Mr. Wilson sat down across from Peter, holding a package of wipes on his lap which was… well it was weird, but Peter was being paid a lot for this little meet and greet so he was ready to deal with a little weirdness. “So. Mr. Parker. I got your number from an acquaintance of mine--” 

“Oh, call me Peter.” 

“Alright then.” Mr. Wilson smiled a little, hazel eyes sparking with humor from beneath the  brim of his hat. “You can call me Wade. Anyway, Matt Murdock gave me your number and had only great things to say about you. And he emphasized that uh--” 

Wade coughed. “--that you are very understanding when it comes to non typical… things. He says he sent a few clients your way that had specific needs and you were really great about it. Real understanding and accommodating.” 

“Definitely.” Peter said immediately, thinking about how Matt had an issue with too much pressure on his back, how Jessica Jones refused to be undressed, how Norman Osborn’s illness had warped his muscles and made even light touches painful. “Yes, I have several clients that need a little extra effort and that’s completely fine. I have no problem working around whatever you need.” 

“Imagine that, you are professional when you aren’t staring.” Another flash of smile and Peter grinned right back, relieved they’d made it past that initial terribleness and into somewhat more familiar territory. “Alright Pete, so I’ve got scars um-- I told you on the phone there was some nerve damage but the scars are-- okay--” 

Wade blew out a deep breath, his shoulders tensing as if he were bracing himself. “I’m just gonna show you, kay?” 

“Sure.” Peter encouraged, mystified and perhaps a little nervous. Wade was fully dressed, so it couldn’t be something naked weird, and he had assured Peter at least a dozen times on the phone that it wasn’t like he was missing limbs or had a prosthetic. Just nerve damage and some scars-- how bad could it be?  “Yeah, just show me. It’s fine.” 

“Kay.” Wade took another one of those deep breaths and took his hat off, then opened the package of wipes and scrubbed at his hands, across his face and down his neck, wiping away what was apparently make up and ….

….oh. 

Oh wow.

Wade’s skin was covered in scars, raised lines and darker patches criss crossing his hands, crawling up his neck and spreading across his face to cover his scalp. His skin looked dry, irritated where the ball cap had rubbed uncomfortably and when Wade shifted under Peter’s scrutiny, his face pinched in a grimace as if even that small movement had hurt. 

“Staring for a completely different reason now, huh?” Wade tossed the wipes towards the waste basket and spread his hands helplessly. “So I’m um-- yeah. This is-- yep. I uh--” he laughed, but it was an awful, self deprecating sound. “Shit. I think I preferred the way you stared at the door to the way you’re looking at me now.” 

“I wasn’t trying to stare.” Peter was on his feet before he even realized he’d moved, crossing over to Wade’s chair and reaching for his hand. “You don’t mind do you? I just want a closer look.” 

“I--” Wade shrugged helplessly. “Sure?” 

“Your nerve damage.” Peter ran his fingers lightly over a scar that crossed Wade’s palm, and then up to one at his wrist that disappeared beneath the sleeve. “Numb in some areas and over sensitive in others?” 

“...yes.” 

“All over your body?” Peter’s mind was racing, thinking about pressure points to avoid and how to incorporate something for pain relief into his usual lotion and wondering whether or not such extensive injuries had compromised muscle anywhere in Wade’s body. “How’s your skin, should I use something extra moisturizing for you? Have you ever tried a body conditioner with avocado? I have a small bottle in my bag and I bet it would help with--” 

Peter’s fingers faltered when he saw the bruises at the base of Wade’s neck. “What happened here?” 

“Knot in my back.” Wade was barely breathing, his gaze focused on where Peter’s other hand still held his own. “Tried to work it out using the corner of the wall but all it did was bruise me.” 

“I can work on that tonight.” His want to help over riding any sense of personal space, Peter leaned further over Wade and drew gentle but purposeful fingers along the broad shoulders. “Oh yeah, I can feel it right there. Can’t turn your head all the way?” 

“Not at all.” Wade forced out a slow breath when he started to get light headed, overwhelmed by the simple encounter. “Gotta say, people don’t usually see this mess and start asking how they can help. Usually they just run the other way." 

“Well, I’m not most people.” Peter said mildly, feeling gingerly along the back of Wade’s neck. “Does this hurt?” 

“No.” 

“Okay, so in my bag I have a sorta generic diagram of a body and if you’re feeling up to it, I’d like to spend some time figuring out where your pain triggers are and where you are numb.” Peter could feel the ridges of scars all the way down Wade’s arm and he was very careful as he squeezed at Wade’s bicep to test the give of muscle. “Do you have any muscle damage? An injury like this one--” 

“IED.” Wade supplied quietly. “Just about killed me.” 

“---shit.” Peter shook his head. “Um, extensive injuries like this can really compromise your muscle while you’re healing. Restricted activity and all that. I’m not saying you should let me look at your medical records, but it would help the process if you could at least tell me anything along those lines.” 

Peter absolutely did not think about how thick Wade’s thighs were as he tested the muscle there too, nodding in satisfaction when Wade didn’t flinch. “You sure seem solid, but there’s a thin line with massage between ‘this feels good’ and ‘holy shit I’m dying’ so you’ll need to be pretty vocal with me while I’m still figuring you out, okay?” 

“While you’re still figuring me out.” Wade repeated. “Does this mean you aren’t grossed out by me?” 

“Why would I be grossed out?” Peter scooted backwards so he could feel down Wade’s calves, and then stopped mid motion. “Oh by the way I’m not just-- not just feeling you up here. I just realized I didn’t even ask if I could touch you but I am just checking to see--” 

“It’s fine.” Wade interrupted, and in a soft tone Peter couldn’t quite decipher, “Whatever you're doing is fine. You’re one of the first people to not act like I’ve got leprosy or something and it's--it's nice. Even my physical therapist is sorta weird about my skin.” 

“That’s fuckin’ ridiculous, a physical therapist acting like that.” Peter switched to the other leg, frowning when he felt a divot in the calf muscle. “This leg is worse than the other?” 

“That entire side of my body.” Wade confirmed. “Took the brunt of the hit.” 

“I’ll make a note of it.” Peter sat back on his heels and reached for both Wade’s hands, pressing at the base of each finger. “I’m taking an extra class in reflexology this month and I’d love to try some on you. It’s less touch intensive in case you aren’t comfortable with that, but still has great benefits.”

“Uh, sure?” 

“Great.” Peter got to his feet and went for his table. “I’m going to set up and you get undressed to whatever your comfort level is--” 

“No, I don’t want a massage tonight.” Wade cut in and Peter paused with his table half out of the bag. “I just wanted to talk, to meet you. That’s it.” 

“Well sure.” Peter gestured between them lamely. “But you’re hurting and I can help with that right now. At least fix the knot in your back and get you a little relief. I came all this way, I’m more than happy to work on you for a little bit.”

He grinned and added, “And not just cos I was checking you out earlier. I promise I’m one hundred percent professional once the table comes out and the calming music starts to play." 

“That's great, but I’m not ready for it.” Wade flushed and looked away, putting his hat back on and shoving his hands into his pants pockets. “The meet and greet is more cos I-- I dunno if I can handle someone touching me but I had to try. You’re nice and all and it’s pretty fuckin’ amazing that you are all gung ho about this. I really figured you’d see this mess and realize it was all over my body and bail out the front door. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you didn’t but I-- I still need some time to get used to the idea."

“I see.” Peter put his table down and nodded slowly. “Okay. That’s fine. Understandable.” 

"It's not understandable." Wade countered. "Grown ass man, former soldier afraid of being touched? It's not understandable, but it is what it is, so I've got to deal. I'm sorry you came all this way for just a few minutes though." 

Wade dug out his wallet and pulled out some cash. “I um-- can I think about it and call you this next week?” 

“Yeah, of course.” Disappointed for a reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on, Peter nodded again. "But here, let me give you this.” 

He got the diagram out of his bag and pulled the bottle of avocado skin conditioner out as well. “Use this maybe just on your hands so you get used to it, and if you have the time, mark on here anywhere I’ll need to be careful when I work on you. Numb spots, sore spots, anything like that.” 

“Thank you.” Wade still looked embarrassed and Peter sort of hated it. “I appreciate this, Pete. I really do. I’m sure it was weird to show up just to talk and I didn’t know how to tell you it definitely wasn’t a sex thing without sounding like a creeper so--” 

His eyes lit in surprise when Peter laughed. “Oh good, you laughed. That could’a been real awkward.” 

“Can’t possibly have been as awkward as me shouting wow when you opened the door.” Peter left the diagram and lotion on the table and straightened back up to wink at Wade. “If you call me for an appointment, I promise not to be half as weird next time around.”

“I sorta like your weird.” Wade admitted with a wink of his own and Peter scrunched his nose and laughed again. “I mean, I’m sure you’re great with all your clients but this was about a billion times easier than I thought it would be. I really appreciate it.” 

“It’s no problem.” Peter pocketed the cash Wade gave him, glancing at it only long enough to confirm it was twice his usual rate, along with the promised extra so he could call a car to take him home. “Feels like I’m robbing you though, with you paying double for fifteen minutes of me being dumb and then feeling you up. How about I don’t charge you for the first real appointment?” 

“There’s a pretty big chance I’m gonna freak out and not actually call you, so keep the money and don’t worry about the discount or whatever.” Wade admitted as he walked Peter to the door. “I don’t get out a whole lot and inviting someone over is about as brave as I get these days. Inviting someone over to see me in my birthday suit is basically terrifying.” 

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t ever stare at my clients in their birthday suit.” Peter said solemnly. “Minor peeks beneath the towel and that’s it. Five second rule, you know. It's a professional thing." 

He was definitely flirting and that was definitely a bad idea, but Peter couldn’t seem to help himself. The first impression of Wade as eep holy muscles was firmly stuck in Peter’s mind, and combined with the few smiles he’d glimpsed and the way Wade’s voice had gone soft and a little unsteady while Peter was touching him…

...well shit, Peter never ever flirted with clients but he sure wanted to flirt with Wade. 

“Five second rule?” Wade was asking and Peter nodded as seriously as he could manage. “I feel like there’s an inappropriate joke in there somewhere.” 

“I can practically guarantee it!” Peter teased and Wade grinned and damn if that didn’t do something to Peter’s blood pressure. “Okay, I’m gonna go before I do something stupid like ask you out for dinner. I’ve got a rule about dating clients and--” 

“--so if I don’t call you for a massage, you’ll take me out for dinner?” Wade challenged playfully, and then just as quickly he took it back with a hasty, “I mean, I know you wouldn’t. Sorry. That’s crazy. What I meant was--” 

“You’ll call me if you decide you want a massage.” Peter waved off Wade’s stuttering. “Right?” 

“I--” Wade cleared his throat, a flash of panic darkening his hazel eyes. “Yes. If I want one, I’ll call you.”  

“Okay.” Peter heaved his table up and over his shoulders. “And um, if you don’t want a massage, are you a steakhouse sorta guy or a Chinese food buffet sort of guy?” 

“Are you serious?” Wade looked like he was half hoping Peter was serious, and like he was half terrified Peter would laugh at him. 

“Super serious.” Peter confirmed. “Not every day I meet a hunky former soldier in a high rise apartment. Steakhouse or Chinese buffet?” 

“I’ll uh--” Wade held up his phone sheepishly. “I’ll let you know?” 

“Sounds good.” Peter flashed finger guns at Wade because apparently he was physically incapable of ending a conversation like an adult. “Looking forward to hearing from you.” 

***************

Peter called a cab and was only a few blocks from his place when his phone buzzed with an incoming message. 

Unknown Number: Can I make an appointment for next Tuesday evening? For a massage, not for dinner. 

Peter smothered a smile and texted back: It would have been very weird if you were making an appointment for a dinner date. I feel like there’s only certain types of people who have to make appointments for dates, you know?

He waited a beat, then took a chance and texted: Exactly what kind of massage therapist do you take me for? 

It was almost five minutes before the reply came.

Unknown Number: Oh you are OBVIOUSLY 100% professional. 100%. 

*****************

Wade’s phone chimed just as he was opening the lotion Peter had left behind, and with his heart in his throat, he opened it to read: 

From Peter: You say 100% professional like you don’t believe me. I’ll show up in a tuxedo next time. Then you’ll see how professional I am. That'll learn ya.

Wade hadn’t laughed in a very long time, but he laughed right then. When Matt Murdock had suggested Wade call Peter for a massage, the lawyer had said it with a sly sort of smile on his face and now Wade knew exactly why that was. 

Peter was all sorts of Wade’s type, all long legs and thick hair and big brown eyes that were mostly earnest but also fucking devilish. He was funny and he was smart and when he’d smiled Wade had actually felt it clear to his bones. 

Plus, he hadn't flinched away from Wade's scars, hadn't flinched away from touching him and Peter had actually looked disappointed when Wade had turned down the massage, as if he really wanted to help and that--

--that wasn't something Wade wasn't used to at all anymore.  

It had been both eye opening and heart breaking for Wade to realize how little people wanted to help him now that he wasn't pretty. He was a mess now, and people stared at his injuries or treated him like he was damaged and breakable or worse like they couldn't see him at all, like he was invisible. 

But Peter didn't act like Wade was invisible. 

The kid had all but asked Wade out on a fucking date. 

A date.

“I can’t sleep with my massage therapist.” Wade muttered, then shook his head because if the thought of someone seeing enough of his skin for a massage made him feel panicky, the thought of sex was nearly crippling. 

Being face to face with someone beautiful when he was a mess? Skin to skin when he was ruined after the explosion? 

No thank you. 

From Peter: Oh shit, was the tuxedo question weird? I swear I’m a legit professional Wade, idk why I’m being such a dumbass around you. How does next Tuesday at seven sound?

From Wade: Sounds good. 

Wade took a deep breath and fired off another text before he lost his nerve and called the whole thing off. 

From Wade: I can’t wait.

****************

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[feminaexlux]

Stronger

Hey hey hey welcome to Part 3 of Miraculous Leap (Part 1). Part 2 is 5 Minutes

Ending this year with Lukanette again! Hoping it brings good tidings for 2021 (better than 2020 that's for sure)! Happy New Year!

FYI: Dewey = Dominic :)

AO3 link!

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Ladybug brushed away her tears and smiled back up at Viperion. "Okay," she said shakily, nodding to indicate that she understood. "Okay."

They were in the past, or at least they were currently occupying their past selves. Hmm, how long ago was this? Ladybug looked back down at her suit and it was that ridiculous basic-ass red and black polka dot version. She didn't even have her wings. Okay, that narrowed it down to… younger than 16?

Ugh, that sucked. No one in their right mind would ever want to repeat their awkward teenage years over again, but… as much as she loved Dewey and wanted him with her at least right now she wasn't feeling like she'd swallowed a basketball. And she currently didn't have any back pain, which was a bonus.

Tikki, I need my wings, Ladybug thought at Tikki.

Tikki sounded a little startled to be pinged directly like she just was. Oh… um… Okay, Marinette!

She suddenly felt herself being wrenched away from Luka by another person before her wings fully manifested. "H-Hey!" She yelled out.

Chat had pulled her behind him and was aiming his baton at Viperion. "Don't touch her, you jerk! What did you do?! Why'd you make her cry?!"

"Chat… wh-what?" Ladybug sputtered. She heard Viperion growling under his breath.

"Are you okay, Milady?" Chat called out over his shoulder. Oh God, not this phase. She saw Luka clench his jaw and fold his arms but otherwise he was remaining still. Luka was pissed at the way she was being handled but he knew better than to step in and make things worse… Though Marinette knew he had a limit.

Ladybug sighed. "Chat, I'm fine!" Of course Chat wasn't standing down.

"Here's what's going on," Viperion said, sounding clipped. "This akuma controls time. Its power is to swap someone from a different time period in their life to here. Long story short the Ladybug and Viperion here now are from the future. I'm from the future. She's from the future. We're from the same future, since your LB and Viperion got hit with the same blast. We'd both been… taking care of someone, and it was terrifying that he wasn't here with us."

Chat was taken aback and reacted like he'd just been slapped. "Who… Both of…? No, nevermind. You guys… don't look like you're from the future," he said suspiciously.

Viperion took a deep inhale and long exhale in annoyance. "It was a mental swap. Sorry. Should have clarified." Thank God her husband had the patience he did. But oh shit--

"V! 7 o'clock!" Ladybug yelled out, pushing Chat out of her way. Ladybug wasn't 100% certain Viperion had access to all of his abilities so she had started to get her yoyo shield ready. Viperion turned in the direction she specified and caught the blast before it landed, reversing time itself and pushing the blast back to its origin. Okay, that question answered. Viperion had what he needed.

"Wow! What was that?!" Chat cried out in astonishment. "Oh holy crud, Ladybug, you--you can fly?!"

"Chat! Focus! We need to take care of this akuma!" Ladybug called out. The sooner they finish, the sooner she and Luka can get back to… She snorted to herself. What an awkward time for her past self to end up in.

⁂

(Back in the future…)

"I can't believe we have 5 kids," Marinette started laughing. It… oddly didn't bother her all that much. After all, with a certain someone she had imagined having up to 3. 5… was… well, definitely way less believable, but it didn't bother her.

Luka looked a little embarrassed and took a drink of his water. He just shrugged and sat down on the floor next to Marinette, pressing his back up against the edge of the bed. "I didn't have a plan for anything," he said sheepishly. "Just me and my guitar for… ever, I guess."

Marinette blinked in surprise. "You never planned to ask me out?"

"Didn't seem like you'd be interested," he said, raising an eyebrow at her question. "I don't mean for this to sound bad but… I don't know how we got…" He gestured at the room. "Here."

It's 'cause he thinks you're in love with Adrien, duh, Marinette chided herself. But… but was she… really?

"Wait… where are… the kids?" Luka asked.

"With my parents," Marinette answered. "Seems like they all go over pretty regularly," she said, showing Luka her calendar. Every 2 weekends she had an event called "Kids @ T/S," with the alternate weekends being labeled "Kids w/Granarka." Well, that was extremely nice of their parents to take on… "We must like these kids if we wanted 5 of them," Marinette mumbled to herself. She opened up her phone's photos and looked through the albums.

She noticed that Luka had leaned in a little to look over her shoulder. "Sorry," he said, pulling back.

"No, they're… yours too," she laughed. She angled the phone so the both of them could see.

"Harmony" was the oldest at 9, the most recent video had her playing a yellow electric guitar and singing on stage by herself at what looked like a small café. There were so many pictures and videos of her at these showings, and in a number of them it looked like future Luka was just offstage cheering her on.

"Melody" was second oldest at 6, and it seemed like she was a little copy of Marinette herself. Marinette couldn't help but smile down at the photos of her future second daughter dressing up and posing in various costumes and placing scrap fabric pieces together on the floor in make-believe designs. Apparently Marinette would have a protégé to call her own.

"Hugo & Louis" were the twin boys, still toddlers at 3. They always had silly faces on in all the pictures Marinette and Luka scanned. She had a video of future Luka tossing both boys into a ball pit and them giggling like maniacs, enjoying the airtime and landing in an explosion of brightly colored plastic balls.

And finally, "Dominic" was an album full of sonograms. Marinette patted her stomach. "Well, hello Dominic," she said. "I wish we met under better circumstances. I hope you're alright."

There had been another album labeled "Us" that Marinette scrolled through. Stills of future Marinette and future Luka together at award shows or at fashion events. Selfie videos of them sending jokes to one another. Pictures of future Luka working in his studio or playing his guitar or hanging out with friends.

Future Marinette adored him. Every picture had him smiling back or pleasantly surprised.

One selfie from several months ago had him with his arms wrapped around her from behind, leaning down to kiss her shoulder as she held up 3 different positive pregnancy test results in front of the bathroom mirror. Future them looked so happy.

Suddenly an awful, sinking feeling hit Marinette.

"We're not going to remember this," she said to Luka, and it was something like anguish that made her voice sound so raw. "Probably? Sometimes no one remembers what happened when the Miraculous Ladybugs reset everything…" She saw his eyes widen. "I don't… This… I-I… I want to remember this!"

His eyes widened further in surprise as both eyebrows went up. "You do?"

"Yeah! I mean, look at us! We're so… so… Wait… do you want… all this?"

Luka looked somewhat incredulous. "You remember I had zero plans, right? I didn't think about dating or marriage or kids." Marinette felt like a balloon (pregnancy aside) that just got punctured. For some reason her heart ached. "I mean… I never figured I'd get anywhere with you past being your friend. I didn't think you liked me that way at all. This? All this," he pointed at the pictures, "wasn't even a possibility." He closed his eyes.

Marinette wasn't sure what to say.

"Wasn't before," he said quietly, after a few moments. He started staring off into the distance. "Now? Do I want this?" He dropped his gaze to his left ring finger, then back up at her. "Yeah. Yes. But I don't want you to start liking me because of this. Futures aren't ever set in stone." He stared back off into space. "Honestly I want us to forget this. It's nice. Really nice. And maybe it won't happen. It'd hurt a lot to know what I missed out on."

Oh. Oh no. She'd been doing the Chat thing where she was barreling toward a specific outcome without thinking about the process or journey. Luka was right. Maybe it wouldn't happen. Not without her taking honest stock of her feelings first.

Did she want… him?

"It's supposed to lift you up and make you feel stronger." Chat had done that for her once. Then recently it'd been more like "Don't focus on the bad stuff." That didn't stop the bad stuff from existing.

Adrien had done that for her when he said she was the "Everyday Ladybug." And then it felt that no matter what she did he kept getting further and further away. And Adrien hadn't reached back out for her to help close the distance.

"Sorry," Luka said, breaking her out of her thoughts. "Guess I'm just… worried."

Marinette looked at him. "No, you're right. It would be unfair if all I wanted was the result." She paused for a few seconds to think her words through.

"I'm not going to start liking you because we got to experience this future," Marinette began again. "I don't even know when it really started. I just know I already do. You've never made me feel like I was wrong. You've never made me doubt myself. You've never made me think for one second I'd have to watch the things I say and the things I do or pretend to be friends with the people who've hurt me. You've always let me be who I am."

He had turned to look at her, worry and concern etched in the furrows of his brows. But the edges had softened as she talked.

Marinette smiled shyly. "I know it's not going to be easy… and it's something we'll have to keep working on… but I'd like to find out how far we can go together." She held out her hand to him, palm up. "I want… us. An us… whatever it looks like in the end."

Luka searched her face for a few heartbeats and took a breath, seemingly content with whatever he found. He gave her a lopsided smile. "I want that too." He reached out and took her hand.

⁂

(The "past")

"Miracu--!" Ladybug was getting ready to launch her Lucky Charm up in the air when Chat stopped her.

"Wait! Wait wait wait. Please. Can… can I talk with you… in private? For a little bit, Milady?" Chat looked down at her pleading with his most pathetic looking kitten eyes and Ladybug sighed. She glanced back at Viperion, who cocked his head a tiny bit to the side and smiled.

Like Luka was shrugging a What can you do?

Marinette winked back a Won't take long, handed Viperion the Lucky Charm, and turned back to Chat. "Alright. The rules are I'm not going to tell you any details but we can talk."

Chat jumped over to another rooftop and down into the alley below, putting a few buildings between him and Viperion. Ladybug followed behind him, floating down with her wings. Chat leaned his back against the brick wall and folded his arms. "Did… I ever have a chance with you?"

Huh. Okay. Chat was more observant than she remembered him being at 15. "Hmm, yes," Ladybug answered. She knew who he was, after all.

"Then… I guess I screwed up," Chat said miserably. "I always thought we were made for each other, you know?"

"We might have been once," Ladybug said gently. "But we both grew up, Chat. Neither of us screwed up at all."

Chat furrowed his brows at that. "Is there anything I can do now to change?"

"You wouldn't be you, Chat." She walked over to him and pulled him into a hug, leaving a hand on his shoulder after stepping back. "I know it's not what you thought you wanted, but your future will still be amazing."

"Are… you happy?"

Ladybug had a serene smile, glancing back in Viperion's general direction with her hands now over her heart. "I am."

Chat stared at her for a bit. Something about the quiet conviction she had was more… meaningful than if she'd been animated about saying it.

There was nothing to prove to anyone. It was just the truth.

Chat sighed audibly. "Okay, Ladybug. Thanks," he gave her a small smile. "Sorry. You need to get back home, right?" Ladybug nodded. "Then let's get going!"

Moments later Ladybug and Chat Noir landed together in front of Viperion, who handed the Lucky Charm back to her. She threw it high into the sky and said "Miraculous Ladybugs!"

Ladybug reached out her hand and Viperion took it in his. They smiled at each other when the waves of ladybugs passed over them.

⁂

Ladybug blinked a few times, her brain a little foggy after being hit with that blast. She'd been trying to save Viperion from the akuma's attack… She must have been a little too slow. Wait, where were they? And Viperion was in front of her now, and he looked… okay?

He was staring down at something. When she looked in the same direction she saw that they were holding hands. A small part of her panicked and wanted to pull away, but… an overwhelmingly larger part of her… liked it? Viperion hadn't pulled away either. So she… didn't pull away.

"Welcome back, Viperbug," Chat laughed, his baton across his shoulders with his hands on either end.

"What… happened?" Ladybug asked, her cheeks slightly pinking as she kept a hold of Viperion. It just felt… kinda nice.

"There was something about the future," Viperion said, still staring down at their linked hands. "I feel like there was something important, but… I can't seem to remember."

"Yeah, you guys got hit by the akuma but we still managed to take care of it. Paris is safe again," Chat smiled. "I'm heading out. See you guys later!" he yelled out, leaping away after saluting.

Huh. It felt like Chat wanted to leave faster than usual. He didn't even stop for their typical "Bien Joué!"

"… I guess we're done here? Alright, I'll drop you back off at home," Ladybug said to Viperion.

⁂

(One day later)

"Hey Marinette," Luka said from behind her. Marinette yelped and windmilled forward, nearly falling over but quickly got back to her feet and spun on her heels to face him. "… Are you looking for Juleka?" He had a smile on his face… one part amusement by her antics and another part joy in seeing her.

She'd come onboard the Liberty and stood on the deck… there wasn't any real reason why, she just kinda… showed up. "Ah haha, um, no, no I a-actually… I was just um! Looking around! Yeah! The-The stage!" Oh God why did she say that.

Luka rolled with it, even though Marinette was certain he knew she just made that up. "Sure, feel free. It's good to see you."

"Too! It's you! I mean it's good to you! See you. Too," she laughed nervously. He moved around her and set his backpack down against the atrium couch. She slapped both hands to her face and cringed when she thought he wasn't looking at her. Auuugh.

"I'm gonna get a snack. Do you want anything?"

She jumped again, hiding her hands behind her back. "Oh! S-sure, thanks, that's great."

"Cool, do you want to follow me down and let me know what you'd like?" She nodded and went to the main cabin with him. She sat down at the kitchen counter bar and asked for juice, sipping it nervously when he sat in the seat next to her.

"I… I actually just wanted to talk with you," she said. "You… said I can just be myself around you." It had been hard to look at him so she just stared at her glass, feeling self conscious.

"Yeah, always," he said easily. He'd gotten some yogurt for himself, but he hadn't opened it up yet. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I… There was… You know…" she started, sighing when she couldn't get the words she wanted out. "I'm not sure how to say it but… have you ever gotten the sense that you… missed something really important? Like you got caught up in something… silly and there was this really cool person you passed by 'cause you were distracted." She finally looked up at him.

"If they're still around you still have a chance to say hi," he smiled at her. "People are pretty chill, and I'm sure they'd love to talk with you." He opened up his yogurt and took a spoonful.

Marinette was pretty sure she was blushing. "Y-Yeah, he's pretty chill. Soooo. Hah, um. Hi."

With the spoon in his mouth he got out a "Hmm?"

"Wanna… see a movie?" She should clarify. "J-Just us! No group!" She should further clarify. "A date! It's a date! I'm asking!"

He swallowed too fast and started coughing. At least he hadn't swallowed the spoon. "Ah," he laughed after recovering. "That sounds great, but…" Marinette's heart jumped into her throat. "I wanna make sure you're… sure," he said awkwardly. "Sure you're not… missing out on what you really want," he added, blushing a bit himself.

"Th-That's why… I'm asking," she said shyly. "I-I think… What I really want is… something new. Someone that helps make me better, you know? Makes me happy too. And… I've been thinking about you."

"Me," he said, sounding a little surprised.

Marinette nodded. "Are… are you… interested?"

He took her hand in his. "Yeah. Definitely."

#fxl fic #lukanette endgame #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #ladybug #viperion #chat noir #the house band #tikki #lukanette #endgame lukanette

[ravenbrenna09]

Jij Verliest - Chapter Eight: Clip 8&9

master list

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the final clips of Jij Verliest... *sob(be)s* the final chapter will be posted later this evening or tomorrow morning

...

Donderdag 18:28

When his mama arrived home to find Zoë and Robbe already working in the kitchen, she was beside herself, with her anxiety rolling off of her in waves. Her boss, Margot, had held her back at work and she had texted Robbe frantically to let him know that she was running late. Even though Robbe had a spare key and assured his mama that everything would be alright, she was still nervous. Once she arrived at the apartment, she tossed her purse into one of the living room chairs and started to set the table. 

But Zoë was having none of it. 

Before his mama could put down the empty vase that once held Senne’s daffodils, Zoë was taking the vase from her hands. Placing it on the kitchen counter, Zoë shuffled his mama out of the kitchen and toward her bedroom to take a shower. As Robbe stirred the sauce in the pan he held, he could hear Zoë assuring his mama that they were fine and if she needed one, she should take a shower. When Zoë returned to the kitchen, Robbe could barely hear the sound of running water down the hall. 

“How is she?” Robbe asked. 

“She’s pretty nervous,” Zoë said. “But the shower should help her relax a little.” Robbe nodded and gave her the spoon when she asked for it. Before she tasted the sauce, she turned to Robbe. “If you want to set the table before she gets out, I can handle the food for a few minutes.”

As Zoë returned to cooking, Robbe reached into the cabinets and grabbed out five plates. Placing them on the counter, he moved the rest of his mother’s table decorations to the counter beside the empty vase. Robbe set the plates down at each of the chairs with the fifth plate at one of the ends. Once he grabbed one of the folded chairs from the hall closet, the table was set. 

Once his mother exited the bathroom with a fresh set of clothes and mostly dry hair, she looked more relaxed. Like Robbe and Zoë, she wore a pair of jeans that looked practically new and a nice blouse. When she noticed the table was set, she pivoted to the two of them at the stove and said, “You could’ve at least left me one thing to do before they get here.” 

Robbe chuckled, shaking his head, as Zoë announced, “It’s alright, Mama. Dinner's nearly ready.” As if summoned, the buzzer rang through the apartment. His mama shuffled out of the room to buzz them in. Zoë nudged Robbe with her hip before she moved to place the food on the counter. As Robbe pulled the bread from the oven, he heard the front door open and Senne’s voice filtered in from the living room. 

“Good evening, Marie,” Senne said.

“It’s good to see you, Senne,” his mama said. There was a brief pause and a hush of mumbled voices as Zoë scurried out to greet them as well. Through the cut out in the kitchen, Robbe could see that Senne had a bottle in his hands. “You didn’t have to bring anything!” 

“I know,” Senne said, grinning sheepishly. “My parents taught me to never show up empty-handed and it’s non-alcoholic.” Robbe thought the last part was directed to Zoë. 

As Robbe placed the bread into a basket, the deep drum of Sander’s voice caught his attention. “We also brought you these,” he said. Robbe bent down a little and his eyes caught sight of Sander. Even though he had gotten off work less than thirty minutes ago, he was dressed in a black button up shirt and a pair of blue jeans. In his hand, he held a bundle of flowers—bright yellow daffodils with orange tulips—which he handed over to Robbe’s mother. “Senne and I wanted to bring you some more since your last bouquet is probably wilted by now.”

His mother laughed. A slight nervous tilt trembled her voice. “Yes, they are,” she said. She took the bouquet of flowers and beamed up to Sander, who was similarly nervous. “Thank you so much! These are beautiful flowers.” 

“I’m Sander,” he said, holding out his hand. 

“Yes, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” his mama said. She took his hand and shook it quickly before ushering him inside the rest of the way. “Robbe has told me so much about you.” As soon as Sander stepped fully inside of the foyer, his mama was closing the door. Smiling to himself, Robbe returned to placing the rest of the bed in the basket. “I’m so glad we were able to meet today!” 

“Me too,” Sander said. “Robbe has told me a lot about you as well. It’s nice to finally meet you, Ms. IJzermans.”

“Oh, please, call me Marie.” His mother stepped into the kitchen. Sander was on her heels, with Zoë and Senne trailing behind with the bottle of non-alcoholic wine. As his mother immediately went to put the brand new bouquet of flowers into the vase, Sander sent a flirtatious grin his way. Robbe didn’t miss the way Sander’s eyes did a quick once over of his body. “All good things I hope,” his mama said. 

“Of course, they’re good things, Mama,” Robbe said. He placed the bread on the table before turning to Sander, who snaked one arm around his waist. 

His mother giggled as she filled the vase with water. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. 

“Hey,” Robbe said. 

“Hey,” Sander echoed before he closed the distance between their lips. Sander’s kiss was gentle and soft. Even in the enclosed space with his mama, Senne, and Zoë, Robbe half-expected Sander to push open his mouth and lick inside. But he was also thankful that Sander kept it chaste as he could. There was a hint of added pressure at the end with a small tug of his shorter hair. When their kiss broke, Sander beamed at him, tugging at the collar of Robbe’s own button up. “You didn’t have to get dressed up for me.”

Robbe raised his eyebrow and tugged on Sander’s collar. “You should take your own advice.” Sander grinned and kissed him again. 

One of the cabinets was thrown open too hard and the entire group turned to Zoë, who was checking to make sure that the cabinet was okay. She turned to them with a sheepish look on her face. “Sorry! I always miscalculate with your cabinets, Mama.”

“It’s alright,” his mama said. She turned to Senne, who was leaning against the door frame. “You said it’s non-alcoholic, right?” Senne nodded as Zoë started pulling wine glasses from the cabinets. Sander moved over and grabbed the wine bottle from the counter. “Good, good,” she said. “Alcohol messes with my medication and I need to make sure that I don’t take too much.” 

Even though everyone in the room knew that his mama took medication, Robbe could see the brief second of her shoulders stiffening up. It was like her brain had caught up to what she said and she was beginning to panic internally. Robbe could feel the gears turning in his own head, to try and divert attention back to the dinner at hand, but before he could even think of it, Sander was saying, “Yeah. Alcohol messes with my medication, too. My therapist keeps telling me not to drink more than a glass.”

When his mother’s shoulders loosened, Robbe let out a breath of relief. 

“Yeah,” Senne said, already laughing. “And yet, you still end up having more than a glass anyways.”

As Sander poured a glass, he didn’t spare Senne a second glance. “Yeah, yeah, I know that but sometimes, I just can’t stop myself, okay?” Senne laughed loudly as Zoë handed him another glass. Like clockwork, the two of them alternated until there were five even glasses on the table. 

“The food is getting cold,” Zoë said, handing the last wine glass to his mama. 

As the rest of them settled down at the table, Robbe glanced at his mama. She was staring at the flowers and holding the glass of wine in one hand. But even though part of her face was obscured by hair, Robbe could see a smile growing. Turning to them, she moved over and sat down in the only remaining chair between Zoë and Sander (as Sander had promptly claimed the folding chair). 

Taking a sip of the wine as Zoë passed out the food, his mama asked, “So, what do you do, Sander?”

“Wow, you really don’t tell anyone about me, do you?” 

The remark was directed towards Robbe, who simply shrugged, but there was a fond smile on Sander’s face nonetheless. “I don’t know. I’ve always had more important things to talk about than your job.” 

Sander grinned, patting his knee beneath the table, before answering his mama, “I’m a tattoo artist.” 

“Oh, and do you like your work?”

“Very much so.”

“Good. That’s what everyone should strive for. If you like your work and you enjoy what you do, you’re doing something right.”

…

Vrijdag 22:41

In the end, Robbe knew that they would have to return to this bar eventually. 

It was the bar where Robbe had gone with the Broerrrs to have a guy’s night—a futile attempt to get his mind off Sander—and it was the bar where Robbe had run into the person who would change his entire world. It was the bar where Sander had seen him for the first time. It was the bar where, pardon the cliché, everything had changed… for the better. And it was where he was heading to now. 

About halfway through his typical Friday night stream, his phone had buzzed. When he checked his phone on one of his breaks, he found a text from Sander: You’ll never guess who I found. There was a photo attached and it was of Sander… with Jens, Lucas, and Aaron. In the background, he could see Moyo with one arm around Noor. 

Robbe had gotten the post-stream invite to meet up but he hadn’t known if he was going to meet up with them. His typical post-stream regime was to sleep away the exhaustion of talking nearly non-stop for three hours. But, still, once the stream had ended and his computer had shut off, Robbe found himself reaching for his tennis shoes and lacing them up. Once he called goodbye to Jonathan and Milan, he was headed out the door and down to his bike. 

The bike ride over to the bar—Lilly’s bar—didn’t take a long time, or at least that was what it felt like. But, that might’ve been because Robbe was so eager to get there, so eager to be with his friends, with his boyfriend, and his boyfriend’s friends, that he might’ve biked a little harder than he normally would’ve. Once he locked his bike against the rack, Robbe quickly moved in the direction of the bar. 

From the windows, it looked busier than it had been when Robbe had originally been there. Still, Robbe had no trouble picking out Sander’s bleach blond hair amongst everyone at the bar. The yellow glow of the light was flattering and made him look like he was surrounded in a halo. Sander was standing at the back at the bar with his camera in his hands. Lucas stepped into view beside him with two beers in hand. Sander took one of the beers and they continued talking. 

Feeling warmth flood his entire body, he practically sprinted to the front door in an effort to get inside quicker. However, even in his rush, Robbe managed to catch the sight of the door opening. In an instant, Robbe snapped back into focus and jumped away from the door as it swung open. Someone stepped out with dark brown hair, a pair of shorts, and a to-go bag on one wrist. 

Robbe was so eager to get inside that he didn’t even pay attention to who it was until—

“Robbe?” 

Stopping short of the door, he turned. In the bright spotlight outside the front door, Robbe could see the features of the person. But his mind was so consumed with thoughts of going inside that it took a few seconds to realize that he knew the man. It took him a handful of moments after to realize who it was.

Thomas. 

“Hey, Thomas,” Robbe said. Glancing inside to find Sander still engrossed in a conversation with Lucas, Robbe took a step back. Thomas was dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a simple maroon shirt. The bag of to-go containers was cutting deeply into his wrist, but he didn’t seem eager to go anywhere. He just remained halted across from Robbe and rocked from one foot to the other. Swallowing, Robbe asked, “How are you doing?”

“Okay,” Thomas said, shrugging. “The trial is finally over with so that’s good.” Robbe nodded absent-mindedly, glancing back into the bar to find Sander still deep in conversation with Lucas. “What about you? How have you been?”

“I’m great,” Robbe said. He shoved his hands in his pockets as Thomas switched the to-go bag to his other hand. “My streams have been doing well lately. Plus, Mama has been having a lot of good days lately, which is always good. So, it’s all been going good.” 

Thomas nodded, smiling. “That’s good. So, what are you doing here at this old place?” 

“Oh,” Robbe said. “Well, I finished my stream and Jens invited me out earlier so I—”

As if on cue, the door swung open. But, instead of Jens, it was Sander. 

Nodding nonchalantly to Thomas, Sander made a beeline to him. There was a smile on his face, brightening up his face instantaneously. “There you are,” Sander said, softly as though it was only the two of them on the street. Even though Thomas was an arm’s length away, Robbe couldn’t resist the urge to place his hands on Sander’s chest, feeling the drum of his heartbeat against his palm. “I was starting to think that you weren’t going to come and I was going to have to come drag you out of your bed.” 

Robbe grinned. “Or I dragged you in it.”

“Or that, too.” 

Sander cupped his jaw before pulling him into a short but positively blinding kiss—as though Thomas wasn’t even there. Despite the short length, it was by far one of the dirtiest kisses that Sander had ever given him… in public. Almost instantly, Robbe’s mouth was pushed open and Sander’s tongue had slipped past his teeth. He clung tightly to his shirt, bit down on his bottom lip, and pulled them close at the hips. All at once, a warmth of love and safety enveloped him and Robbe wanted to hold onto it for as long as he could. The kiss was gone too soon, but the warmth lingered in his chest as Robbe blinked up at him, a little dazed. 

“Come on,” Sander said, grinning triumphantly. “Lucas and I were just talking about cameras.”

“Okay,” Robbe said, giggling. He was barely able to manage a dazed goodbye to Thomas before Sander was tugging him into the bar. Once they were safely inside, a vaguely familiar song blasting over the speakers, Sander wrapped an arm around Robbe. He mirrored his boyfriend’s movement before grinning up at Sander. “What was that for?”

“What was what for?” Sander asked innocently. 

As Sander tugged him through the crowd, Robbe searched out their friends. He spotted Zoë with one arm draped over Senne’s shoulder as she talked excitedly with Yasmina. Moyo and Noor were dancing in the shadows, wrapped up in each other’s presence. Britt had one arm around Alicia’s waist as she talked with Amber, Luca, and Aaron. If Milan weren’t sick or Jana in America, Robbe figured that they would’ve been here,too. All of their friends in one place… somehow, the thought of all of them together warmed Robbe further. 

“You know exactly what I mean,” Robbe said, tugging at Sander’s waist. 

Sander let out a sigh. There was a look on his face that was an almost convincing attempt at annoyance, but Robbe could see the corners of his lips upturned in a slight smile. “I don’t have any problem showing the fact that I’m absolutely in love with you.” Robbe felt his cheeks flush up. “Thomas was foolish enough to lose you and I’m not about to make the same mistake that he did.”

Robbe shook his head as they neared Lucas, who was holding onto a camera. Even though they were close to their friends, Robbe couldn’t find it in himself to care. Without hesitation, he turned fully to Sander, who dropped his hands to Robbe’s hips to guide him backward. Robbe smiled at him and said, “I love you, you know that?” 

“I do,” Sander said. “I love you, too.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, Robbe was rising up to press a kiss against his lips. Because they were in a more public place—and maybe because Thomas was no longer around—this kiss was a lot more chaste, simple and loving. Robbe pulled Sander closer to his body, fisted his fingers in the hair on the nape of his neck, and kissed him a little deeper. 

But the kiss didn’t last long before it was interrupted. Only, instead of Senne with a pillow, it was Jens. “Hey, lovebirds,” Jens said. Robbe turned toward Jens, who had arrived at Lucas’s side, and Sander settled against Robbe’s side. He had one arm thrown over his shoulder with an extra beer in his hand. Lucas was focused on the camera in his hands. “You can eat each other’s faces off later. Right now, we’re hanging out and having beers.” 

Without pulling away from Sander, who had his nose pressed against his cheek, Robbe said, “I’m sorry. Who was the one that is continuously ten minutes late to meeting up with his friends because he always stops to make out with his boyfriend?” 

Lucas laughed, turning to press a kiss against the curve of Jens’s jaw. “He got you there, babe!” 

Jens flipped Robbe off. 

Still wrapped in his arms, Sander chuckled. His breath brushed across his cheek as his arms tightened around Robbe’s waist. Instead of turning out of Sander’s arms toward his friend, Robbe turned back to Sander and placed a gentle kiss against his lips. He ignored the sound of Jens’s whistle and the gentle slap that Lucas made against Jens’s cheek. Robbe just pulled Sander closer and kissed him a little deeper.

Robbe broke their kiss, beaming at Sander. Once Sander patted his side, Robbe snatched the extra beer from Jens’s grasp, and Sander restarted the camera conversation that he quickly got lost in. Zoë showed up a few seconds later, wrapping her arms around the both of them. With her electric blue hair falling down in waves, Alicia was there soon after and hugged Robbe tightly. After a while, Sander put the camera away and the group started sharing embarrassing stories. The smaller groups had merged into one gigantic group of melodious laughter and the bartender kept refilling their beers promptly.

As the night drew on, Robbe would have a few drinks and so would Sander. They would lean on each other a little too much and laugh a little too loudly before going back to the flatshare together. In the morning, Robbe would wake up in Sander’s arms with his nose pressed against his neck. In the evening, Robbe would nervously stumble through his words as Sander’s father and step-mother beamed brightly at him and Amber would be doing the same with Aaron at her side. For every day after that, they would live their lives one minute to the next—even the long ones, even the bad ones. 

Robbe knew that he had forever and a day to be with Sander. 

And he was looking forward to it.

...

thank you all <3

#wtfock #wtfam #jij verliest #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #sobbe #rosander #zoënne #zoenne #zoë loockx #zoe loockx #senne de smet #noor bauwens #moyo makadi #britt ingelbrecht #oc: alicia #mama marie ijzermans #lucas van der heijden #jens stoffels #vds #van der stoffels #britt x a cute girl #milan x a cute boy #sorry i'm pulling a wtfock and not introducing you to sander's parents #aaron jacobs #amber snoeckx #luca lomans #yasmina ait omar

[intubatedangel]

Cold Snap: Chapter 4

Chapter 1 |  Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

Anna walked through into the large living room, turning to the TV. Carl was stood beside the counter, phone to his ear, gaze locked on the screen. A newscast was showing aerial footage from a helicopter. A banner along the bottom was headlined with MOMENTS AGO, and scrolling text described the scene. Not that it needed much describing. The boat was pouring with smoke, people crowded on the fore deck. Anna watched, gasping as the fuel tank explosion sent a gout of flame into the air and shook everyone on board.

"Anna?" Sara asked on the phone.

"I saw." She gulped, exchanging a glance with Carl. They both nodded. Their plans for the day would have to wait. "We'll be right there." Anna told Sara, before hanging up, she headed into the bathroom, grabbing two towels. She tossed one into the sink, soaking it in warm water. She gave her chest a quick scrub to remove the lingering gel, then wiped away as much sweat as she reasonably could. It was an old trick nursing school trick, when you had a short break and needed to freshen up. It would have do. Carl entered the bathroom behind her, and she handed him the wet towel, using the other to dry herself.

They didn't say anything, both processing what they had seen. Not in the way that someone in shock might have to process an event. They were going over the details they had seen. The footage wasn't great, but the signs of blood and bandages were pretty clear. There was the fire factor too, and given how cold the river was, hypothermia could be a big complication. Carl's mind was focused on treatments for the worst case scenarios. Anna thought more about the bigger picture. Triage and dividing her nurses to cover as many bases as possible safely and quickly.

Once dry she slipped around Carl and went to the wardrobe. Grabbing her last set of spare underwear and scrubs. She changed with a sense of urgency, Carl joining her soon after. Anna didn't waste any time sorting her hair. She ran a brush through it a couple of times, then fixed it in a basic ponytail. She went to the living room and looked through the window, down to the road. Traffic was already slowing down, with the river road likely blocked and emergency vehicles overriding lights in multiple directions. The police department would be clearing routes to the hospital, but none would pass this way.

She heard Carl coming though, dressed and ready. She looked at him and shook her head as she went to the front door. "Walking will be quicker." He nodded and they both left the apartment.

The kettle finished it's 5-minute boiling cycle.

* * *

 Jones ran towards the back of the boat, waving his arms at one point as the boat rocked, presumably a patrol boat pushing off. It wasn't big enough to be another explosion. He hadn't considered the prospect but thought it unlikely. What was left to explode? As he neared the back of the boat, he could feel the tilt getting more substantial as the rear compartments flooded first. A part of him hoped that the luggage area wasn't one of them. A hope that was dashed when he reached the top of the rear stairs.

The waterline was already halfway up the stairs, which with the tilt of the boat were now almost vertical. It was murky too, not the horribly polluted mess it had been in years gone by. For a city river it was remarkably clean. This was just the standard murk of a natural river, suspended silt and foam, plus whatever dirt was being pulled from the inside of the boat. He couldn't see any sign of the girl. He would have to go in. He pulled off the life jacket, which would only hinder him here, but grabbed the small waterproof flashlight.

Just looking at the water made him feel cold. He took a couple of deep breaths, gritted his teeth, and jumped in. He did his best to contain a half-scream-half-growl, as the cold water shocked his system. The initial shock over, he swore. Loudly. Then turned to the task at hand. Placing the flashlight between his teeth, hooked a foot under the steps, rotated to face down wards, then pushed off, cutting through the water.

It stung his eyes as he kept them open, looking for any sign. It didn't take him long. The girl, Shona the kid had said, had long blond hair that was spread out in the water, acting almost like a flag, guiding him to her. She was dead. Clinically at least. That much was obvious. Motionless, blue lips. He didn't bother checking for a pulse or trying to give her some air. It would be pointless with her lungs full of water. Her only hope was that the cold would prevent any major damage. Jones knew that cold water drowning was one of the best-case scenarios for a full recovery. He just had to get her out and get her to help as soon as possible.

He grabbed one of her arms, pulling on it, hoping it would be simple. But she was trapped. He pushed himself closer, down her body length, to get a good view of the cases covering her legs and waist. He could feel his own air starting to run low, but realigned himself, planting his feet against the floor, grabbing the heaviest case in both hands. He pushed off, taking the case with him, moving it just far enough to roll it away from the girl. He did the same for another case, then, lungs starting to burn, he took a chance. He got one arm around her waist, pulled her upper body closer to his shoulder with the other. Then, cradling her tightly, he pushed off in a smooth firm motion. The was a moment of resistance, as the bags and cases tried to keep hold of their prize, then they relented. Shona was free.

As soon as he felt it Jones kicked off the bottom, but his legs were almost fully extended already and there was no dramatic rush to the surface. He had to swim with his legs, each motion needing more oxygen. He could see the light from the stairs, and swam towards it, spitting out the flashlight, letting it sink away. He felt desperate as he crossed the final few yards.

With a great gasping breath he broke the surface, dragging in few deep lungful’s of air, remembering to breath out steadily and expel the co2 that must have been building. He rearranged the body in his arms, getting a better look at her. In the open air her hair had fallen and clung to her face. He brushed it away, without any tenderness, feeling how cold her skin was. He knew there was absolutely nothing he could do but get her out. And there was the problem. Submerged in the water he had been unable to really sense direction. During the short time he had been under, the boat had tilted further, enough that there was no chance of climbing the steps, not with a pulseless young woman in one arm.

* * *

 Lucy watched the cop go rushing off, shaking her head. She wanted to go with him. Help him. But she was the only proper medic on board. And as she had told Jones, Patients come first. She got the splint wrapped around the young man’s arm. She didn't dare try to reduce the fracture herself. She had no idea how many knocks it taken. Instead, she used the splint to stabilise the bones as they were, loosely wrapping anti-septic coated bandages over the wound. It would do.

She followed it up with a neck brace, then waved over a cop. "I need a spinal board from a patrol boat, and some spare hands." She requested. The cop nodded, immediately going to do as she asked. She checked the young man’s pulse while she waited. It was rapid, a little thready, but not excessively concerning. The head injury could become a problem, but there wouldn't be anything she could do if he did have a brain bleed. The best thing would be to get him to a neuro unit as soon as possible, and in the meantime try to reduce his pain and stress levels. To that end she shot him up with a moderate dose of morphine, which seemed to calm him.

The cop returned with the orange board and two others. They should have all had training in spinal boards, it was part of the required first aid course for river patrol, but Lucy coached them through it just in case. They log rolled the young man, placing the board before rolling him back, then they tied down the straps, crossing his body and making everything secure. By the time they were done and Lucy could look around, she could see that they were the only ones left on board.

"Ok, nice and easy." She said, standing up slowly and in concert with the other three. It was only when she was standing that she realised how badly the boat was faring. Luckily the patrol boat was level with them, so they could shuffle sideways along the tilted deck, instead of having to walk up a 30-degree slope. They reached the edge of the boat and she directed two of them down into it, while she and the other balanced the spinal board on the rail.

Carefully they eased the board down into the patrol boat. Lucy looked out at the river. All the other boats were on their way to shore. She looked at the sinking rear of The Beetle. There was still no sign of Jones. "Do we wait?" A cop asked, clearly tracking her thinking. They were the last boat. The last chance for Jones and the possible casualty. She cursed, looking out over the river avoiding the eyes of the cops. They were putting the decision in her hands. Patients Come First.

She opened her mouth to speak, when she noticed something odd. One boat wasn't heading for shore. It was making a mad dash in their direction, skipping and bouncing on the waves of the river. "No." She ordered. "Get this one to shore. Go as fast as you smoothly can." She said starting to turn away.

"Wait, what about you?" The officer asked,

"Patients come first." Lucy told him. She rushed towards the cabin without looking back.

#Medical Drama #Cold Snap #Cpr #Defib #Resus writing #Anna Swift

[angelisverba]

you’ll break my heart

in which y/n thinks her brother’s best friend might be playing her, and he can’t believe she would think that.

word count: 12k

pairing: y/n and her brother’s best friend, Jason (from the snl skit)

warnings: mentions of nudity, violence, alcohol, and drug abuse

notes: this one goes to my lovely @floralsatin . thank you, hannah, for all the inspiration, and for bearing with me :)

Y/n couldn’t believe her eyes. 

It was bound to happen. It was the main reason why she didn’t want to show up. 

But here she was, and there he was.

Jason was in the pool, with a topless girl in his lap. Literally topless. Y/n had never seen so many boobs in her life. Every girl in the pool, and a majority of the ones outside weren’t wearing anything to cover the skin above their belly buttons. And the girl on Jason’s lap was no exception. It was hard to tell because the lower half of her body was submerged below the water, but seeing how Jason was pushed up against the one of the corners in the deep end, and she was straddling him, her lower back moving back and forth, her tits pushing into Jason’s face- well, it wasn’t difficult to see why y/n would think that she’s giving him a lap dance.

And well, who doesn’t enjoy a lap dance?

His face was blocked by the girls head, but with the circulated disco-lights from the DJ at the head of the pool, y/n could see that his head was angles up towards hers. Blue, red, and green dots skimmed over the girls skin, making the droplets of water on her skin look like beads of color. 

Y/n lips began to tremble, a small whimpering noise squirming out from the depths of her chest, which felt as if it were being squeezed in someone’s tight fists, nails digging into her lungs. She turned her back to the window, and stared at Jason’s closed door with her lips parted, a vacant, numb, expression on her face. She felt something trickle onto her lips in rapid succession, and when she lifted her fingers up to her cheek, she discovered that she was crying. 

Sometime amidst her heart-broken haze, y/n took her phone out of her pocket, and called her closest friend, Donna, in hopes to somehow alleviate the weight on her chest.

“Hello?” Her friend responded, voice cloaked with a heavy blanket of sleep, most likely due to the fact that she had been asleep moments before. 

“Donna?” called y/n, sniffling and wiping her eyes with hard press of her hand against her eye socket. The inside of her brain an agonizing creak of hurt and disbelief. Jealousy was an angry, rabies-driven animal swinging from her ribcage like a monkey. 

“Y/n? Are you okay?” her friend asks. And she’s not. She’s not okay, because it feels as if there is barbed wire wrapped around her throat, sharp metal spikes digging into the soft of her jugular, impaling her vocal chords and causing her to choke on every syllable. 

She shouldn’t have called Andrew to bring her the second, and third margarita because she’s a sobbing mess. “Donna, h-he, he’s with-with, some oth-” she doesn’t even finish her second before a sob rakes through her. 

Poor, y/n. 

Her emotional distress wasn’t at cause of jealousy, or anger. None of that cliche high school vengence type of thing. But rather, a blue sadness that frosted her heart that burning cold because all of her dreams of being held and kissed by Jason were shattering right before her eyes. Her sweet, caramelized day-dreams melting into nothing. Y/n wouldn’t be able to run to Jason after he scored the winning touchdown at his games, and congratulate him with a big kiss while she drowned in his jacket, scrunching her nose because drips of sweat from Jason’s hair were falling on her cheeks like tears. 

Or sneak kisses in the library while they were meant to be studying. Jason sneaking glances at her and maybe tickling the space above her skirt, her cheeks burning because he was only creeping further and further up the milky skin of her thighs. 

None of that would happen, because clearly, jason wasn’t interested. He was busy snarking the face off some girl who was probably on the cheerleading team (y/n couldn’t tell because she couldn’t see her face).

“Y/n, who? Are you talking about Jason?” Donna asked, yawning.

Turning back to the window, hiking her knee up on the ledge, she gazed out at the active scene. It was only getting wilder out there. There was a pig in the pool, happily swimming towards… apples? There were three apples bobbing on the water’s surface, and the people on the outside cheer the pig onward with his pursuit of the red fruit. It was then that y/n saw, as the pig neared the head of the pool, that Snoop Dog was the dj at the turntables; a cigar and scotch glass in his grip, while the other selected tracks off someone’s Mac. Weird.

Jason doesn’t seem to be entranced by the chaotic events occurring in his own backyard, no. 

Because instead of surveying the perimeter of his backyard, and locks eyes with y/n’s teary ones. 

She swears, the world jerks as it stops it’s rotation around the sun, a record screeches in the back of her head; all thoughts in her brain go silent and her lips are moving in response to whatever Donna said on the other end of the phone call, but there’s no cognitive recognition of it going through her ears and leaving her lips because… because all she knows is Jason’s eyes. 

Jason’s eyes and how they widen when they meet with hers, emerald eyes shining; a lighthouse, a glowing effect caused by flashing party lights. 

Frozen with built-up tension, y/n watched as Jason blinked, broke their steady gaze and pushed the girl off of his lap. His lips were moving, addressing the girl without a glance back at her dejected self (her shoulders slumped and her breasts bounced as she lifted, and dropped her arms in protest). He climbed out of the pool, and y/n could see that he was fully dressed in the clothes from earlier. White shirt and blue jeans now clinging to his skin and dripping a path behind him as he walked off into the dancing crowds. 

Still true to her tragic state, y/n snapped out of her misty-mindstate and tuned into what Donna was saying. 

“...analyzed the situation yourself several times and you’ve said that you sense that there’s something there. What was it you called it? Butterflies on steroids?” 

“But Donna, I see it now. Much clearer. Looking at the girls that he’s always with, s’like, am I an idiot?” She’s sniffling and weeping. 

“Oh no, babes, why would you say that?” Her friend continued to question her, her tone of voice as pained as her friend’s, upset that she isn’t physically present to comfort and walk her friend through what she was feeling. 

“Why? Well, isn’t it clear. Donna, he’s constantly surrounded by all these skinny, tall blondes, and I’m not like that. I’m so stupid, really. How could I ever think that Jason could like me?”

Just then, there’s pressure on her wrist, and the heat of someone’s presence behind her. A part of her knows who it is, and that part of her drops with dreadful embarrassment. The other part of her, surprised because the door was locked and she wasn’t expecting anyone, yelps in surprise and turns around to face her visitor. 

It’s Jason. The only one with the key to this room, and the person who that part of her suspected. 

He’s smiling at her all goose-like, his lips twisted at her all silly- like he’s holding in secret. He looked smeared, his hair dripping and shirt pulled down and stuck to him as if it was vacuum sealed. 

“Oh, y/n,” he cooed at her, taking the phone from her hand and hanging up, tossing it somewhere to which y/n didn’t register, because she was focused on being embarrassed, her jaw falling open in mortification. 

“Jason, I-” She tried to explain, back up whatever he might’ve heard. 

“I like you, y/n. More than you know.” He interrupted her, wrapping a strong arm around her waist and pulling her up to him, flush against his chest; her hands sandwiched between his muscles and her breastbone. Her front quickly grew wet from the water on Jason’s clothing, her cheekbones covered in dollops of water from the strands of his hair; some even collected on her eyelashes, with how close they were to each other. His breath on her lips, warming the tear-cooled skin.

And, 

He kissed her. 

It was the best feeling that had ever taken over her body; the same butterflies that fluttered wildly like they were doped up on drugs stampeded through her body, manifesting in the pit of her belly and spreading like wildfire through her limbs. Licking up her spine and treading to the tips of her toes. She was alive, buzzing, burning. The only thing that mattered was how gentle Jason’s lips pressed against her own, like he was scared of breaking her. Her hands came to rest on his biceps when she felt the tickle of his thumbs on her hips. He’s the first to pull back, and if there wasn’t a steady thrum from the bass of This Is How We Do It, they’d be able to hear the small suction noise their lips make as they pull apart from each other. 

Y/n cranes her neck to chase after his lips, whining from the loss of contact. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that, for so long, you know?” He told her, setting her back down on the ledge and nosing at her cheek as he does, y/n rubbing up against him dreamily.  

“Why didn’t you?” she asked him, her voice light as a sigh. 

“Because Andrew would beat me to a pulp,” Jason said, laughing. “But it doesn’t matter anymore.” He starts to take his shirt off because he feels his skin start to wrinkle and it’s bothering him, shirt peeling off his skin at a torturous pace that ignites a fire on y/n’s cheeks.

“Why’s that?” Not totally aware of what she’s asking because her mind is dizzy with him.

“Because I’d rather get beaten to a pulp, than be away from you any longer.” Jason feels as if all the intoxication fluids and substances in his body have been replaced with a high from a drug called y/n. He’s electrified, a renewed sense of freshness coursing through his veins.

At the mention of him getting beaten up, y/n’s eyebrows raise with curiosity. Jason getting beat up? Impossible. But who would try?

“Wait what?” She said, more attentive this time. Had she heard him correctly? Andrew-

“Andrew, is very protective of you. Fends off any boy who tries to go your way. Can’t tell you how many times he’s scrapped in the locker rooms with someone’s who’s said you’d be a good-” Jason’s short confession is cut off by a knock on the door. He drops his shirt off at the foot of his bed, and he makes quick, confused eye contact with y/n before turning to see who’s at the door.

Jason’s back went taught- jaw clenching in hopes that it isn’t who he presume it might be. Because, god, if it’s Andrew…

His fingers wrap around the door knob, and he sucks in a breath before he twists the metal sphere. Stepping to the left slightly so his body blocked the view of his room, he pulled the knob back just enough so he could stick his head outside.  The outside rumble fills in the room, and y/n pinches her face in distaste, the loud noises irritate her already sensitive state. Clutching her arms around herself, she stands up to toe at Jason’s wet shirt absentmindedly.

At the door, Jason’s frame is frigid. His eyes closed, lips pressing tight into a straight line as his friend says,

“Jason, man. Is everything alright? Is my sister okay?” 

Andrew stood with a red solo cup in his hands, shirtless and drenched in water. He was panting, breathless, and his head jerked from side to side as an attempt to peek past Jason’s head and into the room. Inside, y/n is clueless that her brother is at the door, but nonetheless, she turns around with curiosity, glancing up at the same time that Jason opened the door all the way to allow Andrew in. She smiles weakly at her brother, her eyes and lips feeling heavy from the cry she’d had earlier.

There’s a thick silence in which none of them speaks, Andrew’s looking in between the two with accusing eyes. Taking in Jason’s shirtless appearance, and his sisters disheveled look and tear streaked-face, it wasn’t hard to see why he would automatically assume the worst. It takes his intoxicated mind a few seconds longer than normal to form a conclusion, and take action, but after an awkward moment of glancing with furrowed eyebrows, he steps in between his sister and his friend. A dangerous look shadows over his otherwise friendly features. 

“Jason, did you touch my sister?” Andrew took slow steps towards his friend, his body coiled and ready to pounce. Y/n watched this interaction with confusion, wondering what in the world had taken over her brother.

“Andrew, what are you talking about?” She asked, growing slightly worried when her brother took aggravated steps closer to Jason; his aura confrontational.

“Did he touch you, y/n?” He twisted his neck to take a look over his shoulder at her, jabbing a finger towards Jason, who displayed an alarmed expression. He was worrisome and expectant, prepared for whatever awaited him of Andrew’s protective wrath. He stayed with his mouth shut, determined to not dig himself in a hole and let y/n answer for him. 

“He kissed me, that’s a-”

“He KISSED YOU,” he growled, finally turning away from y/n and pushing Jason up against the wall with his palms against his chest. “You fucking kissed my sister?” 

“Andrew, I-” Jason received a punch from Andrew before he could even complete his attempt to explain. This was no wrestling match- an activity both boys participated in, many times against each other for practice- and rather than the physical performance being for pinning and restraining, it was for harming. Andrew meant to hurt his friend, to prove how he felt about the older boy taking advantage of his sister. He was blinded by rage; fueled by his love for his sister. All that was on his mind then was that he had to stand up for his little y/n, his sweet, book-smart sister, whom Jason had kissed. Jason, his best friend since his first chest hair, was the culprit.

And Jason?

 Jason didn’t try to fight back because he knew it would only make the situation worse than it already was. Given that his best friend was neck deep in a drunken stupor, and he (Jason) could see how he placed himself in an incriminating position, he didn’t bounce back on the hard knock against his jaw.

His head whipped in the direction Andrew’s fist flew, his brain going haywire at the introduction on pain, but the athlete part of him stepping in to turn numb, shouting at the area to shut up shut up shut up shut up. There was no way he’d fight back. He couldn’t, not when y/n was standing in the room. Jason was in deep enough shit as it was, with her thinking he didn’t like her at cause of the girls he hung around. He’d have to straighten that out. Set the record clear, and he didn’t want to have to apologize for punching her brother in the face.

Y/n watched in horror, complete shock as the boy her heart skipped beats for let himself be hurt. When she witnessed the way he recoiled from Andrew, further into the wall with his eyes closed in pain, she stepped ran towards the two boys.

 “Andrew, stop! Stop it, you’re hurting him!” The girl placed an urgent hand on her brother’s bare shoulder, preparing to grip and pull him back just as he retracted with force to pummel into Jason again. That force, concentrated into his bent elbow, hit y/n square on her lip, pushing the sensitive flesh into her teeth, and effectively puncturing it.

She stumbled after her head was tipped backwards by her brothers elbow, her hand coming to cup over her mouth, which pulsed in hot agony. At the sound of her aggravated whimper, frustrated that Andrew hadn’t stopped, Jason jumped to try and come to her aide, finally pushing back against his friend’s hits. His forearms came up to his face, and he tried to scoot out of his way to get to y/n. She straightened herself to attempt to get Andrew to stop, feeling as if her lip was twice it’s normal size already.

“Andrew, quit it!” She yelled, her voice straining over the booming music streaming in from the open door. Y/n got closer to her brother again, and he managed to knock her down with how he kept thrashing. Her tailbone hit against the hard floor, causing a loud, injured yelp to exit her lips and finally drawing her brother’s attention.

As soon as Andrew’s focus wasn’t on him, Jason scuffled over to y/n, his pants making a thick shuff shuff noise. He kneeled down next to her, cradling her chin in his palm and applying pressure on her hand to be able to see her swollen lip. Pushing aside all the pain his body was urging him to pay attention too, he took hold of y/n’s face tenderly, holding eye-contact with her as he moved her chin from side to side. 

“Are you badly hurt?” Y/n whispered to him, her eyes flickering between Jason’s startled ones. His verdant eyes held delicate emotion; concern and worry for the girl who laid her cheek in his palm. Though, after he heard the words ‘are you badly hurt’ leave her split lips, they turned soft with affection. She was clearly hurt, her soft, pink skin of her pliant lips that had been on his own not so long ago, now red and purple, dripping blood on his thumb. 

Andrew observed this intimate exchange with a wondrous look playing in his eyes. Had he missed something? This new development ignited a spark of irritation in his chest, and resulted in a sarcastic smile on his lips. 

“Seriously, what the fuck?” His tone was similar to that of a 5-year-old’s when they were denied their favorite cereal at the market.The grandeur of the situation at hand finally hitting him; his sister and best friend had something going behind his back this entire time. Behind his back and he didn’t even know.

It was an infuriating idea, and ironic, really. He was really going around beating up others who spoke of his sisters in any way near sexual, when the real person he should’ve been looking at was, “Jason, how could you do this shit, man?” 

Jason, all to entranced in checking to see if y/n was hurt, didn’t look up at his friend, but let out a rushed breath through his nose and sucked in his lips ruefully. He wasn’t sorry that he’d kissed y/n, not even a little bit. If anything, he regretted not licking against her honeysuckle lips sooner. He was sorry that he’d ruined Andrew’s night. Jason knows how much his friend was looking forward to this night.

Three years of anticipation, to be exact. It was shitty on his part; inconsiderate. But, who could blame him? The girl in front of him was a literal angel. Eyelashes sticking together with remaining tears, eyes twinkling like she’d plucked stars from the sky and stuffed them in her eye sockets.

Gazing dreamily into them, he shook his head and mouthed ‘i’m so sorry, doll’. Y/n quirked the corner of her lip as if to say ‘what can you do?’. At their silent, telepathic action Andrew lunged at Jason from the back, wrapping his hands around his neck and pulling him down, swinging his legs around his torso so he could plant himself down and continue with his assault on Jason’s face. Y/n momentarily drew back as to not get in the way of the two thrashing boys.

It wasn’t a one sided fight this time because Jason reiterated the physical attack. His hands came up to grasp at Andrew’s shoulders, and he pressed himself into the floor to spring back up with enough force to knock Andrew back into the ground. With their positions now reversed, Jason pinned his friend like how they’d taught him to on the sweat stained mats at school.

The side of his face ached, the corner of his eye slowly squeezing shut as it swelled slowly. Andrew wriggled underneath him, but Jason was good at pinning-- he had trophies to prove it. Jason wasn’t going to hit his best friend. He just wanted to hold him long enough to say-

“Stop, that’s enough!” Y/n shouted. “I want to go home.”

Both boys looked up at her from the ground with confusion spread on their facial features.

“What?”

“Right now?”

They both said at the same time, Jason skittering off of Andrew so he could stand and look at y/n properly. Andrew stood up proudly, throwing a nasty glare at the boy next to him. The girl watched, annoyed, as her brother expressed his current dislike towards his friend, and shook her head. She was suddenly overcome with annoyance and an impatient urge to get out of that house; out of that party.  It struck her then that both of them were about as sober as Snoop Dog himself (and it was known that he isn’t exactly clear-minded because he was outside with a blunt in his hand and another tucked behind his ear).

“You know what? I’m leaving. I’m done. Both of you are drunk anyway. Andrew you’re so... you’re so fucking immature,” she spat those last few words out. Her lips jutting out dramatically as the words took shape on her mouth. Turning around and strutting to pick up the few things she had brought with her, y/n’s pouted. This big mess was all because of her, and now she would have to think of ways to fix it.

On her way out, she only stopped long enough to glance at Jason’s face, all sad and forlorn like a scorned puppy. Casting her eyes downwards as to not make eye contact with her brother, she walked passed them both and hurried out the door, while a part of her urged her to go back and ask every single one of the questions erupting in her brain. Alas, asking analytic and interrogational questions to two teenagers, currently heavily under the influence, was bound to end in disaster. With a mouthed ‘goodbye’ she walked out of the room without looking at her brother.

All that was left of muzzy feeling encapsulating her throat was a faint throb on the tips of her fingers. It had dissolved enough that y/n could navigate her way through the hall, down the staircase, and into the massive crowd without being completely disoriented.  Vibrant lights, bodies covered in perspiration, very loud music, it all immersed her at once, overwhelmingly. 

Jason’s home, a place she knew for it’s quiet halls and amazing smells when his mom was home, had turned into a … trap house. There were acts of sexual nature everywhere, which frankly made y/n’s skin crawl in discomfort and vulnerability. Her innocent self felt violated just from watching all these people do these things.  Girls were bare and writhing to the beat of the music, men and women gyrating their hips onto each other with drinks in hands and rolled brow paper between their lips. It was all so much to take in at a single time.

In front of the fireplace, a group of mangy looking teenage boys were huddled around a ceramic pot, looking inside it and then around the living room to see who was watching them. One of them, wearing a red polo too big for him, held a fist out and began counting, maintaining eye contact with his friends the entire time. When he reached three, he lifted the pot over his head. With a cheer, he heaved it onto the ground where it shattered against the marble tiles, orange chips and mushroom shaped stickers splashing on the ground.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, and the room stilled as if one’s pressed pause in a movie. 

And then pressed start.

Every single body in the living room and those on the porch entrance rushed towards that one spot, flattening themselves on the ground with squeals and yells. Those residing on the stairs, rushed passed her, her shoulders getting jostled around so much that she ended up taking a few steps in the process. 

It was then that y/n learned, it was, in fact, not a pot full of mushroom stickers, but a pot full of LSD. Girls and boys were placing the tabs on their tongues, doing lewd gestures in the process. Jason’s living room started to look like a warped ball of ants crawling towards an ice cream drip on the sidewalk, and she watched it all happen with a wide-eyed manner of bewilderment. Was this really what all the parties were about? Everything that she’d been ‘missing’ was just a giant circle of drugged-up, sex-driven boys and girls from her school shamelessly stripping on the first cheer.  

Disgusted, she pivoted on the balls of her feet and set out to exit the house, dodging bodied every which way. It was a struggle, fighting her way against the traffic of human enthusiasm, clustered together with adrenaline coursing through their bodies. She clutched her phone and sweater closer to her chest, the metal edge of the device digging itself an uncomfortable spot in her breastbone. Her toes were stepped on more than once, and her ears were subjected to the blaring hum of Mr. Saxobeat mashed up with another trendy hip-hop song she didn’t recognize. 

With one last heave, she emerged on the doormat, panting and grateful that she was no longer surrounded by suffocating body heat. Holding out her hand from her chest so she could peek at her now sweaty phone, she unlocked it to open up the Uber app. 

Andrew and her had taken a trip into down by bus last year during summer, when he didn’t have a car yet. The excursion was in efforts to excuse themselves from the horrific cage they called home where two fighting parents resided. So consumed in their own problems, they didn’t notice their kids sneak out of the house with change and a credit card in their pockets. Y/n thought Andrew planned on going for a walk, and they did… to the bus station, where they hopped on a buss, got off at a train station, and took the metro to Santa Monica, where they ate hot dogs and splashed on the shore until after the sun went down. 

Scared to walk through the dark street and sit on a cold bench and wait for the train that brought them to the pier, Andrew created an Uber account and punched in their dad’s credit card information. They hopped into a stranger’s car, and he put her head on his shoulder, his temple against her skull, and they fell asleep through the hour and a half ride home,

That same account, was the one that y/n was using. She did, after all, watch over Andrew’s shoulder as he punched in all the information. The girl planned on sneaking it for herself, but the day after her brother messaged her the username and password, and her sneak attempts were for nothing. 

She punched in where she wanted to go, home, and selected the cheapest ride; a Honda Civic that was five minutes away. Walking down the cup-littered walkway, staring at her phone in close observation of the slowly creeping car, y/n wrapped her arms snug around her abdomen to preserve some of her heat in the chilly night.

The drive-way and round-about on Jason’s property was too crowded for her ride to even pull up, and she had to walk further down the street to meet the driver, the music still lucid despite the distance she’d placed.

A red car came to a stop at the curb she stood at, the window rolling down with a distinct buzz as a head leaned over the passenger seat to greet her.

“Uber for y/n?” A woman asked. She wore a woolly sweater and had thick spectacle glasses that distorted her eyes, skin the color of fresh coffee without milk, the sultry tone a beautiful contrast against her pearlescent grey eyes. Smile warm and a  gap between her two front teeth made her seem familiar and dear.

“Uhm, yes, that would be me.” The young girl stammered.  The woman, Yamilet the information read, waved her hand for y/n to enter the car through the passenger door. Sucking in her lips, she tugged the door open and sat down on the seat with a small jump. Yamilet’s car smelled like the color pink; strawberries, cotton candy, bubble gum, apricots, peaches, and the list goes one. The source was the can of air freshener perched in the cup-holder, peeled open and invading y/n’s senses, momentarily relieving her of the tormented feeling in her chest to focus on the mouth-watering scent.  Grateful for the distraction, she took a deep breath and held it in her lungs.

“Jeez this is the party that was on the radio isn’t it? Is Snoop Dogg really in there?”

Snapping her eyes open with nostrils flaring, y/n hummed a reluctant mhm. Screw Andrew and his publicity. He’d really done a damn good job at ‘getting the word out’ for this stupid party of his. Yamilet leaned forward against her steering wheeling and squinted in the direction of Jason’s house. Surely, she would’ve creeped forward as a way to turn around and sneak a peek at the commotion, but even at their place three houses down, cars were parked in the middle of the street and it was impossible for them to go in that direction.

Raising her eyebrows and puckering her lips, the woman continued, “Well,” she sucked on her teeth, “someone’s parents are going to be mad when they get home.” Astray from her usual, collected state of mind, y/n somehow deciphered Yamilet’s comment as the funniest thing, and burst out into a stomach-clenching laugh, eyes tearing up and all. A hysterical kind of laugh that in which she knew nothing but seeing out the tickling feeling, letting it out.

One in which, since that tickling feeling was escaping was escaping her, other feelings snuck past too, and before she knew it, she was crying. Y/n was still laughing, a hand coming to cover her mouth, but tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes, her chuckles converting into the hitch of a sob.  The tickle in her chest then became more of a harrowing tumbleweed of prickling hurt. that rolled itself through the expanse of her ribcage, spokes piercing the soft tissue of her lungs. Tormented, because she’s evidently broken apart her brother and her best friend, and ruined the night they waited for, for years.

Yamilet looked over at her, taken aback at her sudden change of mood, and while backing out of the street she asked, 

“Honey, are you alright?”

Her weeping took encouragement from the inquiry, increasing in intensity and movement. Her shoulders shuddering with every wave of tears that lapped on her cheeks. There was no part of her completely comprehending why she was so torn-up; the exact origin of her anguish unknown.

Breathing raggedly, she responded, “What do you do when loving someone may hurt someone else you love?”

Her question prompted the older woman to reach other to the stereo, and press the off button to quiet the soft music playing in the background. With a long exhale, Yamilet began. 

“Loving will always comes easy with those that are willing to return it. It’s a two way street; no way it’ll work if there’s traffic on one side only. See, love, when done the right way, makes everything… easier than breathing. And the person on the receiving end?” She looks over at the girl who’s crying, her eyes softening before returning to view the road. “Makes it easier. There’s no limits, no problems; a rock that never stops skipping on the surface of a calm lake. If they love you, they won’t swallow you into the water. They’ll help you keep skipping. No matter what skipping means, they won’t hold you back from prospering.  Frankly, whoever you’re talking of hurting for loving someone else, doesn’t truly love you if they can’t see that you’d be happy with another person.”

“My brother loves me. Very much. I know that.” Y/n thinks out loud. 

Yamilet gives a relieved laugh. “Oh, hun, this is your brother we’re talking about? Make him understand. He’ll come around eventually.” At her final comment, the car comes to a stop at the front of y/n’s house. “It’ll all turn out fine, you’ll see.”

Looking at her house, and then at Yamilet, y/n gave a sad smile and a shake of her head. Maybe things would turn out okay. Maybe Andrew would come around, even though he’d given Jason a black eye. 

“Thank you, Yamilet. So much.” Sniffing, she opened the door, and stepped outside. 

“You’re welcome, sweetie. Trust your gut, okay?” The woman gave her a thumbs up, the gap in her teeth showing when she smiled. 

Y/n nodded and waved, giving the door a firm push to shut it closed. 

“Goodbye.” she said, stepping backwards onto the curb and already turning her body to walk up to her house. 

“Bye, bye.”  The woman said before driving into the front houses’ driveway, reversing, and returning the way she came. 

In a defeated manner, strung out and weary from her past endeavours, y/n sighed and dragged her feet up the path to her door of her home. The porchlights lit a golden-yellow circle on the landing when her motion activated the sensors, and a small click* was heard from the security cameras running when she pulled her key out of her pocket. Holding her breath and moving with extreme caution to not wake her possible sleeping parents, y/n slowly slid the key into its slot, and turned her wrist, the knob moving along with her. 

It creeped open smoothly, with no annoying squeaks and incriminating creaks, to a dark house. Her mother liked to leave the bathroom light on because she often woke to use it through the night, and it wasn’t on. Meaning that her parents were not presently in the house. Also meaning, she didn’t need to be careful anymore. Kicking her shoes off, y/n sniffled loudly and rested her hand on the wall to take her other shoe off, the keys still in her hand making clicking sounds against themselves. Hurriedly, she locked the door behind her and walked up the stairs slowly, her lips dipping into an upset frown at how the night had gone. Thoughts of what awaited her on Monday, or even tomorrow, threatened to invade her already cluttered brain, and she willed them away with a huff. 

It was enough. She’d had it with spoiled events. The girl just wanted to go to sleep and worry about everything when she was awake and rested. 

So she did just that. 

Normally, y/n was anal about her nightly routine. Brushing her teeth (her lip hurt too much for that anyway), washing her face, lathering lotion onto her skin, and the likes. But, she was so burnt out, that as soon as she stepped into her room, she locked the room behind her to make sure no one would bother, including Andrew, and in the dark she found her way to the mattress, falling forward and plunging into sleep. 

She was out like a light, as opposed to the usual hour or more that it takes for her to lull asleep; really, it just goes to say how much the nights events had taken a toll on her. Dreams of un-blackened forest eyes chased away the violent images that festered in the crevices of her skull. Taffy pink lips, that she’d come to know that night, whispered to her that it would all be okay, she was safe.

 She was safe.

*                              *                    *                                  *

Y/n was, in fact, not safe from Andrew’s reach. It seemed like the one day of morning silence she received the day before was a one time occurrence because the next morning, the girl woke to  urgent rap of knuckles against her door. Eyes pinching tight in refusal to open, she groaned and rolled over to stuff her face in her pillow, determined to not get up and face her brother- which, was a complete wonder that he was awake because of the amout of drinking he’d done that night before, not the mention the time he got home. Sometime throughout the night, y/n had managed to get underneath her blankets, and the soft covers rested on her shoulders, protecting her from her brother’s intrusive knocking. 

“Open up, sister,” there was slight… spite in his voice, vocals gruff and y/n could just imagine the way he was pinching the bridge of his nose, squinting his eyes shut at cause of his pounding head. “We need to talk.”

Tensing under the covers, y/n was quickly reminded of the intensity of what had happened the; the heavy weight of the issue at hand. Jason had kissed her. He’d kissed her. His lips, her lips, pressed against each other in a vigorous moment of elation. A gentle mingle of skin and tongue; an innocent tease of feeling. 

Then Andrew barged in and beat the hell out of Jason for kissing her. And Jason didn’t fight back. He worried more over her well-being when Andrew shoved her out of the way than when he was punched in the face for smooching his best friend’s little sister.

Y/n sat up and rubbed a hand over her face, instantly regretting it when the friction of her palm against her mouth ignited a numbing throb on her bottom lip, the taste of blood invading her mouth. Hissing, she, too, pinched her eyes closed in agony and took a moment to ground herself before mumbling loud enough for her brother to hear, “Go away, I don’t want to talk to you.”

She really didn’t. Not because she was steaming mad at the boy standing just outside her door, but because she had no idea what she would say to him once they were face to face. Or better yet, what she would do to him for acting the way he had the night before. She hadn’t done anything then, but thinking back on it, fury rose in her, witnessing Jason getting hurt. Y/n wanted nothing but to protect him the way he had her when she most needed him. Give Andrew a taste of his own medicine, and pummel her clenched hands into face. Swing on him when he wasn’t expecting it.

“Y/n, can we please talk about this? I know I….” Andrew’s voice being drowned out by the earbuds she places in her ears, pressing shuffle on her classical music playlist and melting back into her bed sheets in rebellion. She just wanted another break before facing whatever this was.

*                              *                    *                                  *

By some miracle performed by the Pope himself, y/n managed to avoid her brother the entire weekend, leading all the way up to a silent Monday morning.

She woke as she usually does, to the sound of her alarm at 6:30am, eyes fluttering open slowly because sleep clung to her like the stickiest glue. Cold was the first feeling introduced to her body every day, with toes and fingers feeling like icicles no matter how many blankets she used; the freezing temperatures of February nights always snuck in through the cracks of her windows. Eventually, the two fluffy blankets would find their reluctant way off her body, and she would find her way into the restroom that was so conveniently placed in her room. There, she brushed her teeth (with extra caution because the water on her lip already stung) and washed her face (with extra care because she’d gone to sleep without a clean face the night before) and gave herself a long look in  the mirror.

To put it...lightly she looked a mess. And not one of those cliche ‘hot’ messes often seen on tv, no. Her under eyes were dark and a sickly, yellow color, the corners of her eyes an irritated pink- borderline red- color that sunk her eyes deep into her skull. Her hair was flat on one side of her head, and fluffled wildly on the other. Her lip was the worst of all. The right corner of her bottom lip was about a grape-size ball of swollen skin that- by then- she’d grown used to the ticking waves of palpitating discomfort.

When her parents had seen her Sunday evening, they questioned her endlessly of how she had attained such an injury, and she’d struggled to come up with a story. Lamely commenting that someone at the party had fallen and bumped into her on accident. They believed her, and gave her pain medication to help; it did. Comforting her as all parents do when they see their kid hurt, and questioning her no further, they asked her if she wanted leftover, given that they decided not to cook because Andrew was spending the night over at a friends house, and wasn’t coming back until the next day. Unaware of the tension present between the two siblings, y/n simply nodded her head and crept back into her room with a plate of food and a bottle of pain medication. She knocked out right after swallowing a thick tablet of ibuprofen and choking down two slices of pepperoni pizza.

The effects of the medication had completely worn off, and the tender ache has turned into a full-on throbbing marching band stomping on her mouth. Looking at herself in the mirror, she thought it didn’t really look as bad as it felt. It was a grotesque and violent image on her usually smiling face, but she could do with keeping her head down and avoiding gazes. Besides, everyone would most likely be congratulating Jason and Andrew on their smashing party. It would do for a good distraction, given that she couldn’t hide it with make up of anything like that. The girl didn’t know the difference from concealer and foundation.

“Y/n, if you want your mother to drop you off on her way to work, you’re gonna have to hurry up.” Her dad said, knocking on the door and the sound of his work shoe clad feet tapping on the wooden floors as he walks away fading as he walks away. He startled y/n, her reflection jumping as she does, too, and exiting the bathroom to put on the clothes she’d thought about before falling asleep (a strategy that then became a habit when she didn’t lay out her clothes.)

Since she wasn’t exactly in the best mood, she would forgo practicality and settled for comfort. Meaning jeans and a really big hoodie she could pull her arms into during lessons. This hoodie, one of the four she owned, was one of those from the school spirit wear line, with her high school emblem printed across the chest area, and it sponged around her upper-body, the zinch band pinching in at her waist at the start of her jeans, a dark washed, flared number that she had to cut because they were too long for her legs; frayed ends where she cut them raw. Slipping her shoes on and tying her laces, y/n picked up the backpack at the foot of her bed- which hadn’t been opened since Friday afternoon- and walked out the door to meet her mom in the kitchen. Her mother was snapping the cap on her coffee mug, the space above it painted with wisps of smoke from the steaming drink. At the sound of her daughter entering the kitchen, the woman looked up, and grimaced mid-smile at the horrible bruising on her mouth. 

“Oh, y/n,” she sighed. “Are you sure you want to go to school like this?” Her mom asked.

Ever the diligent student, she didn’t miss a beat in answering, “I have to.”

“Okay sweetie. If you say so.” Grabbing her lunch bag, purse, and keys off the counter, y/n’s mom nods towards the door in a ‘let’s go’ motion. “Your breakfast is in that bag, honey.”  She pointed a manicured nail to the paper bag on the counter next to her things, her heels clicking on the wooden floor and her burgundy pencil skirt swishing with each step.

Puckering her lips, and whimpering immediately after, y/n grasped the bag in her hand and followed after her mom, closing the door behind her and walking quickly to enter the passenger seat of the car. The car started when her mom turned the key in ignition, the engine rumbling awake with a smooth hum, and the radio turning on with What’s Love Got To Do With It playing through the speakers. Neither of them spoke as they pulled out of the driveway, and made the familiar route to  school.

They didn’t need to. Both mother and daughter were complacent with silence, and didn’t have the need to fill it with sound, talk, or anything of the sort. They made it all the way to the school parking lot with only y/n’s mother’s CD mixtape playing 80’s hits. Summer of 69 was the song playing when y/n murmured a soft bye to her mom with a little twiddle of the fingers holding the brown paper bag. It contained an egg, ham, and cheese sandwich and a tiny baggie with two white pills inside (she’d opened it after she put on her seat belt).

When her feet were planted firmly on the ground, y/n tilted her chin to the ground and gingerly touched her swollen lip, eyes slightly widening when she felt the size difference. God she hoped no one would look at her. Tire against moist road crunched behind her as the car drove away, and she took her first steps toward the school amongst the parked cars. Walking in between cars, y/n’s eyes frantically searched the student flow entering the school gates for Andrew or… Jason.

She wasn’t really sure if she wanted to not see him. Or see him. The possibilities of how their inevitable meeting could go were endless, but the one that scared her the most was rejection. The whole ‘it was a mistake because I was drunk’ excuse that would erase everything that happened. He had said that he’d he liked her more than she knew, and that he had been waiting so long to kiss her, but where was always what if? One could never really know with a drunk high school boy, especially one’s brother’s best friend. 

There was more evidence that proved whatever this was, it was true. That Jason did like her, and things would end well but, fucking hell her mind was going overdrive with possibilities. Like a supercomputer that showed all the numbers to pi. The simple thought of Jason reciprocating any sort of feeling that wasn’t platonic drove her mad. For years she’d suppressed what she dubbed childish fantasies, obscene obsession, but… now there was a possibility that they weren’t fantasies? She swears, this is what it felt like when Thomas Edison’s light bulb light on the 1,001 try.

As she stepped foot into the gates of school, the warning bell rang a shrill reminder for students to get to class that increased the pace of traffic. Some people passed others in fear of being late, groups moved together in a quick fashion, and she made a beeline to get to class, passing the two girls in front of her; head down, eyes flicking upwards every once in a while. The hand that wasn’t holding the brown paper bag reached up to tug hair towards the front of her face, closing in on the sides of her face and hiding attention from her lip. Shouldering her way past students in the halls, she kept her head low, tucked into her shoulders, and her eyes a constant flick from the ground and in front her to make sure she wouldn't bump into anything. Like that, she successfully made her way to World history, where the lights were always off because the teacher gave them worksheets with questions to whatever movie was showing on the projector.

As usual the lights were off upon first walking in, and there was a stack of papers from which she was supposed to grab on her way to her desk. The teacher, Mr. Minks, greeted her with an indirect ‘good morning’ when he sensed another student come in, not even noticing the way she creased the sheet in her rush to grab it, and slammed herself into a seat all the way at the back to avoid being seen by any of the other students that would walk in.

She would’ve tucked her hands into her sweater and sunk low into her seat to watch the movie, but the brown bag her mother had prepared for her was still heavy with food and the teacher allowed eating in class. So, after she set the single sheet of paper on the wooden desk top, she placed the brown bad next to it, and slung her school bag onto the floor to rest against the seat legs, the back of her shoe brushing against it as she took her seat.

Uncurling the edges of the paper bag, y/n reached in and pulled out the aluminum covered sandwich, unwrapping it and taking an angry bite because,

“Dude, did you hear about Jason’s party? Snoop Dogg was there! I know someone who said that…” Two guys that just walked into class were talking animatedly about the very thing y/n was trying to stay away from.

Rolling her eyes to herself, she inwardly groaned at their topic of conversation. She wasn’t going to get away from this was she? That stupid party had become an annoying weed that was impossible to pluck from the ground. Peeved, she took a bite out of her sandwich at the same time her teacher started talking. A few of her classmates turned to look at her at the sound of the foil crinkling, and the faint smell of egg that wafted off of her food, but she didn’t pay them a glance. 

“Good morning guys and gals, I see some of your heads are still stuck on pillows, eh?” The older man who always wore canvas belts and short sleeves- no matter the temperature- chuckled at his subjects. “Well, today we will be watching a film on war strategies during World War 1, and I’ve set out the questions you’ll need to turn in by the end of the period, so if you haven’t got one please, come and get one.” He moved to sit on the rolling chair behind the table at the front of the desk. With a simple click of his mouse, the sound of trumpets and band music filtered through the speakers, and the screen flashed black and white images taken during the war. 

Covering her mouth as she spoke, careful to not press against her swollen lump, y/n leaned to the guy next to her and whispered, “Kev, spot me the answers, yeah?”

Kevin, a quiet boy who was also in her English class, nodded and gave her a thumbs up, his eyes never leaving the screen because- as he’d told y/n before- history was his favorite subject. 

Wolfing down the rest of her food with a hungry rush (she never really realized how hungry she was in the mornings until she was sitting in class with her hand digging into whatever her mom had prepared for her) she let saliva pool underneath her tongue, and placed the pill in her mouth, swallowing twice to get it down since she hadn’t grabbed a water.

The girl wiped her hands on her jeans with pats on the sides of her thighs; opposite hand tugging one of her sleeves forward so she could pull her arm in. Her cool fingers brushed against the bare skin of her stomach, the temperature difference making her suck in a breath to avoid contact as she did the same with the other hand. Accidentally, she did the same with her other hand and rose goosebumps on the sides of her ribs.

She cursed softly at the chilling feeling; her fingers were really cold.

On the screen (which was really just the whiteboard surface mounted on the wall) and old man was talking about his war memories, and how the ground shook with the drop of bombs. Before she could prepare for it, an explicit image of dead bodies piled on the battlefield flashed on the screen, and she took that as the signal to place her head on her desk, cheek flat on the smooth surface with Kevin’s side profile being the only thing she could see. He turned to snicker at her for her careless antics, and returned his gaze to the screen, his smile dropping as his focus was turned on something more serious. He hadn’t seen her lip because everything below her nose was tucked into the head hole of her hoodie, safe from curious stares. 

Her eyes fell closed, but she didn’t succumb to sleep. 

Y/n could never sleep in class. Ever. She could try as hard as she could, but all she managed to do was block out the noise and rest her eyes. No dreams or disorientation when she opened her lids again. Funny enough, she envied those who got into trouble for dozing off in class, wishing that she could be one to just sleep where she wanted to.

Like then, y/n wanted nothing more than to pick up where she left off before her alarm woke her instead of listening to stories about war and detailed descriptions of bloody scenes with limbless bodies. But, there she was, with her eyes closed and brain open, aware of everything happening around her, worried she might get into trouble because it was school, y/n! get up!

It didn’t matter. Mr. Minks didn’t care, and even if he did, he liked her too much to call her out.

Students chattered quietly through the movie and every whisper had to do with the juicy details of the party from Saturday. Jason and Andrew jumped off the roof and into the bouncy house, LSD was stolen from the local dealers and now someone was getting chased after, Maddie from the cheer team left with a pet pic, and Juliet woke up with no hair. At the last bit of information, y/n puffed air out of her nose. Juliet must’ve woken up fuming, she thought. Her hair was so pretty.

Throughout the whole class, she kept her eyes shut tightly, willing herself to go to sleep- but she never did. Eventually, Kevin leaned over and poked her on the forehead with the end of his pencil, slipping his paper on the end of her desk as her eyes opened up again.

“Made them short so he won’t suspect if we copy.” He said, pulling his phone out and leaning back into his seat. “Turn them in when you’re done, yeah? Please?”

“Mhm, thank you. Lemme borrow your pencil,” She reached over and took the pencil he poked her with before he could answer, only because she knew he wouldn’t say no.

True to his word, he’d made his responses in bullet form, start with ‘to get to...’ or ‘a trench...’. She copied them word for word, knowing that the teacher was so caught up behind work that he wouldn’t even read the answers, just check for completion. Her writing became more of a slanted cursive as she rushed to fill inn her paper, not even consuming the words she was writing down (not that she wanted to anyway, she hated war), and as she was writing the last answer down on the paper, the bell signaling that the period was over, rang.

She wrote her name down in a quick scribble, giving Kevin his pencil pack and stacking the two papers on top of each other. Kevin walked away after she gave him his pencil back. She picked up her backpack from the floor and the empty brown bag to chuck in the trash by the door. After slinging one strap over her shoulder, she picked up the two sheets she had set down and walked to the front of the class, where she placed the worksheets on a growing stack next to the teachers desk.

Her next class was a mix of study period and teachers visitant to the librarian. She spent the period in the library, shelving books when it was needed, or doing her homework when she had nothing to. Her to-do list was given to her as o as she walked through the door, as Ms. Wilson had a whiteboard for each class of the day and what their agenda consisted of. The short walk from the history building to the one next over, consisted of y/n fidgeting with the strands of her hair trying to both, block her mouth with her hand and hair. With how fast she was walking, she wasn’t really giving any passing strangers time to focus on her face, so there was no reason to worry, but the girl was paranoid, and she only relaxed after she heard the library doors shut behind her. A note on the doors from Ms. Wilson read that she would be in a meeting during the first and second period, and to not forget to sign in on the attendance sheet.

Once again taking off her backpack and leaving it on the check out counter, she walked through the hip-high swinging doors to the librarians office to get her assignment from the hanging whiteboards. There was a clipboard pinned on the door frame with a pen hanging from a string, where y/n checked off the box next to her name, confirming she was present that day. Running a finger along the wall all the way down to the fourth (2nd to last) mini-whiteboard, she could see it was shelving whatever was in the return carts from Friday. In Ms. Wilson’s curly-cue writing, the board read, ‘shelf any remaining books from the return carts, and begin cataloging any new arrivals!’ Shrugging, y/n walked out of the tiny-nearly empty- room and out to the front of the library, rounding the counter of the counter and being met with two, heavily loaded, shelving carts.

Her eyes widened at the sight. Whoever was in the period before her clearly hadn’t done anything. Y/n thought the shelving carts would be not even half full, empty, and she’d be able to get to cataloging the new books. If she wanted to even grow hope for touching the new book that day, she’d really have to run when shelving books.

Grasping the handles of the first cart, she leaned back,using all of her body weight to get the cart moving. Once the wheel started moving, she moved it so she was pushing it instead of pulling, and walked it to the center of the shelves. When it was still, she grabbed an armful of books, and set of to shelf them. Momentarily, she would stop and pause to look at the cover, acknowledging whether the novel was good read or not. If it looked interesting, she’d make a mental note of the author so she could check it out later.

Y/n always got a little lost in her work- driving herself to the bone to finish whatever task she set out to do. It really took a toll on her pride and work ethic if she didn’t.

So, it wasn’t a surprise that when she was halfway done with the last cart, and the library doors clicked open, she didn’t hear them- too emerged in sliding A Separate Peace onto the shelf.

Or, that when the movement of a body walking in the clear of the library, and down the isle she was in didn’t bother her. The person got close (five steps away to be exact) and it took her a while to take notice.

Until y/n looked up, Jason stood, dumbfounded, watching the girl moved quickly and diligently, the speech he had prepared dead on his dry tongue.  He wasn’t sure how, even though her face was bruised and scratched from the serious of unfortunate events that had happened on Saturday, she was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She took his breath, and gave him life, all at the same time. 

Especially, god, especially, when she looked up, and her lips parted in shock. Jason doesn’t know why it makes his stomach flip like he’s just been dropped from the tallest building.

“Jason,” she said, his name leaving her lips like gasp.

“Hi,” He smiles at her. He can’t help it. For as much as he was nervous, the sound of his name coming from her always made his heart skip a beat. Jason tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, the pockets of his Letterman jacket not available because he was wearing a red cotton sweater. His curls framed his face messily, and y/n knew just by looking at his hair that he was nervous because they weren’t in their usual, slicked back position, but resting in a parted sea.

“What are you...” Her eyebrows dipped and her head tilted. “...doing here?”

Jason’s mouth opens, and he has to look away from her burning gaze and down at his feet. “I came to speak to you.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding surprised. She thinks about walking past him, and going back to the cart to continue shelving books as he speaks, but she can’t get her feet to move. Jason’s head perked up at the sound of her lilted voice, confidence suddenly surging through him because, correct him if he’s wrong, he’d say y/n sounded pleased.

With a deep breath, he said, “Y/n, what happened at the party wasn’t a mistake. I don’t regret anything that happened, only that you got hurt and didn’t stay so we could talk things out.”

“It wasn’t?” She asked, again, surprised and pleased, her eyebrows moving from dipped to lifted, and the tips coming to rest on her upper lip, remembering.

He gives her a disbelieving look. “Of course it wasn’t. Did you think I was kidding you?” He sounds hurt at the fact that she would make an assumption like that.

“Well, Jason you’re seen with all these girls, I-” She stops, suddenly becoming emotional; her throat consumed with the familiar choking that came before tears. She had to take a moment to move her eyes off his, looking at the ground and even then the tears couldn’t be stopped. Embarrassed, she turned her back to him and sniffled, wiping madly underneath her eyes.

“Oh sweetness, no.” Jason cooed, striding over to her and gently grasping her sweater covered biceps to turn her around. She pliantly moved under his direction, ending up with her forearms against his chest as she wiped underneath her eyes. His fingertips nudged her hands away, thumbs replacing her fingers.

“Jason, you have to understand.” She looked up to him with wide eyes, her words coming out in a panicked, wet rant. Her heart was racing and her logic missing. “I don’t think, I could survive, getting my heart broken by you.”

Jason’s heart jumped, and stilled. His mind moved faster than a roadrunner’s legs could. He didn’t know what to say because he wanted to confess so many things at once. She was all he could think about, she was all he wanted, she was all there was for him.

He let his heart speak for him

Eyes shutting, tenderness overcoming him, he said, “Y/n, if anyone here is gonna get hurt,” His eyes open, full of a deep sincerity and sucks y/n in like a Venus flytrap’s honey does a mosquito, “it’s going to be me. Because, I don’t think, I’ll ever be able to stay away from you again.”

“Do you really mean that?” she breathes, her voice cracking and blanking on certain syllables with how light it was.

His hand cradles the side of her face with his thumb tracing softly on the upper portion of her lip, his forehead falling to rest on her own in desperation of not being able to kiss her; he didn’t want to hurt her. “More that I’ve ever meant anything else.”

“Go on a date with me y/n, let me show you how much I want you.” He said, his eyes never leaving hers.  Y/n’s mind became an annoying pop-up ad of yes yes yes.

“Okay.” She stated, titling her head into his palm that continued to rub soothing circles into her cheek.

He laughed; a giddy skip of his voice that showed just how elated he was. “Okay? Is that a yes, baby?”

“Yes, it’s a yes.” she giggled, hiding her face in Jason’s neck. She rubbed the tip of her nose into the side of his throat.

Jason wrapped both of his arms around her waist, and pulled her in tight for a hug, his face pressing into the side of her head and into her hair.

“But, what about Andrew? He hurt you, and he was so angry on Sat-” she started, her voice muffled since it was still partly hidden in Jason’s shoulder.

“He spent the night over at mine’s yesterday, and we talked things out. He hasn’t spoken to you yet?” Jason pulled back to look down at her, confused.

Y/n shook her head and pulled in her lips, yelping at the pain that came with the pressure. Jason’s face drops, his hands moving to immediately cup the sides of her face.

“I’m still so angry at him for hurting you.” He mumbles. “What can I do, baby? Tell me?”

Without missing a beat she said: “Give me a kiss.”

Jason smiles at her, blinking at her in amazement. “Whatever you want.”

He tilts her head back so he can have better access to her mouth, his thumbs gently digging into her jaw as he moves her. Y/n’s eyes flutter closed as his head dips forward with caution, hot air fanning over her mouth the closer his mouth gets. And then, ever so gently, he ghosts a feather light kiss on the upper portion of her lips, scared to touch her bottom one. At the feeling of his skin touching her own, her knees wobble and she’s positive that soon she’d fall into a puddle of love-sick warmth.

A small, desperate whimper sounds deep in her chest, upset that she hadn’t gotten more. Of course, she would never voice her thoughts.

“Sorry, sweetness. I don’t want to hurt you.” He mumbles, his lips moving to rub back and forth on her forehead.

They stand like that for a moment, his hands on her face, her palms on his chest, feeling the hard muscle underneath the sweater. Both are going crazy in their own minds, finally freed but having no idea how to act without the barriers that were there before. Y/n wants badly to know what’s okay to do now, and Jason wants to know what she’s thinking. He figures all will come with time, that there was so much to learn from each other.

And the first step to that would be their pending date.

“Y/n?”

“Mmm?” Her eyes fluttered open slowly, having closed at their own accord.

“As much as I’d love to stay here with you, I’ve got to get back to class.” He spoke into her hair. His hands moving off her face and down to her waist. “I’ll see you between passing, okay I can take you home...” He added quickly “...if you want.”

“I’d like that.” She pulled her face out of his neck, and quirked her lips, dazed.

“Good,” he smiled, a dimple appearing on his cheek. “I’d like that, too.”

Jason pressed one last kiss to her temple, and mouthed a goodbye on the corner of her lip, y/n’s stomach tripping over itself at the sensation. Finally separating his body from hers, he reached to tuck her hair behind her ears, and with a wink he walked away.

Y/n watched him walk away, and pass through the doors with only one thought on her mind.

She couldn’t believe Jason had asked her on a date.

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there’s gonna be a part 3!

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@moonchildstyles i tried my best to make this un-horny so you wouldn’t have to pay

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurbs #harry edward styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles smut oneshot

[jjungkookislife]

part fifty-three: I can’t wait either (m)

pairing: hoseok x f. reader

wc: 3.2k

warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption/mention, petnames, oral sex (giving and receiving), fingering (f. receiving), marking (scratching, biting, hickeys), unprotected sex, creampie, soft!hoseok

Hoseok finished plating dinner before calling you to the table, you rose from your seat on the couch, cooing at Hoseok’s dog before joining him.

“Mickey,” you said happily as Hoseok pulled out a chair for you and poured a glass of wine.

“I haven’t had him too long,” Hoseok explained as he took a seat beside you, Mickey settling down by his feet.

“He’s adorable,” you coo, making silly faces at Mickey.  “Thank you for making dinner, babe.”

Hoseok beams with happiness as his hand reached out to grasp yours, his thumb rubbing it in circles, “I’m glad we’re finally able to spend time together.  It’s nice to talk to you in person instead of talking through a screen.”

You agree wholeheartedly, grabbing your fork to eat, moaning in delight.  Hoseok chuckles, raising a brow at you, “good?”

“Delicious!” you exclaim as you take another bite, seeing Hoseok visibly relax.

“Yoongi told me it was your favorite and gave me his recipe,” Hoseok admits with a bashful smile as he takes a bite.

“I’m glad Yoongi has come around,” you muse as you take a sip of your wine.

“I’m glad too, I was worried he’d clock me in the face.  Jimin too, he’s terrifying when he’s angry.  They get on well with Namjoon and Jin.”

“Have they arrived safely?” You ask, although you hadn’t met them, Jimin and Yoongi had said they were nice and that you’d like them as well.

“Yes, they’re going to be gone for a few days, so I have the place to myself,”  Mickey barks, making the two of you laugh.  “Well, Mickey and I have the place to ourselves.”

The two of you continue to talk about your friends, and your families before you’re helping Hoseok clear the table before loading the dishes into the dishwasher.  You then help Hoseok get Mickey in his harness before attaching his leash to it and walking him around the neighborhood.

“Mickey’s taken well to you,” Hoseok smiles as he holds your hand, interlocking your fingers as the cool air whips your hair around.

“I’m glad, I like him too.  He’s such a sweetie,” you gush, squatting down to pet him before continuing your walk.

“Taehyung always gets mad when one of the guys gushes over Mickey instead of Tannie,” Hoseok shakes his head as you reach the end of the block.  Hoseok catches you shiver and decides it's time to head back to his house.

You carry Mickey in your arms, cuddling him to you as Hoseok wraps his arm around your waist to lead you inside.  Mickey runs to his water bowl, drinking loudly as you wash your hands before moving to the couch as Hoseok does the same.

Hoseok turns on the TV, putting Netflix on for the both of you as Mickey jumps on the couch next to him.  You curl up on his free side, laying your head on his shoulder as he holds you close to him, you wonder if he can hear how fast your heart is beating.

You’re not even paying attention to the movie, the heat of Hoseok’s body under yours becoming too much for you.  You squirm as you try to get closer to him, his soft chuckle making you look up at him.

“What?” you whisper with curious eyes, not noticing as Mickey hops off the couch to lay in his dog bed.

Hoseok grips your chin with two of his fingers, tilting your head upward to make you look at him, heat blooms on your cheeks.  Gone is the bright boy whose smile has you feeling giddy, in place, is a man with a lustful look that sends tingles down your spine.  Your breath catches in your throat, heart slamming against your chest as you see him look at your lips, his tongue running along his lips.

“Seokie,” you whimper, not sure what you’re wanting of him as he pushes your hair back, his hand cupping your cheek as he leans forward.  You feel his breath ghost against your lips.  His tantalizing gaze has heat pooling in your abdomen as you close the gap between you, your lips molded with his.

Slowly, your boyfriend pulls you into his lap, his hands gripping your hips as you move to straddle him.  Hoseok moans softly, his hands running up and down your back as you lace your fingers in his hair.  

“I’ve missed you so much,” Hoseok admits in a whisper, his hands roaming over your body freely before settling on your hips.  His loving gaze makes your heart fill with warmth.

“I missed you too, Seokie.”

“Not a day went by that I didn’t think about you.  I’m glad we found each other again,” Hoseok smiles warmly, his hand cupping your face as you lean forward to press your lips against his.  

You lose yourself in the kiss, your body tingling as your fingers tug on his hair lightly, a deep moan escaping your boyfriend’s lips.  His fingers toy with the hem of your dress, you giggle as you rest your forehead on his, your hand gripping his wrist to set on your bare thigh.

“You can touch me, you know?” Hoseok gulps, nodding with a nervous chuckle as he tests the waters by moving his hand up a smidge higher before you place it on your ass.

“I just don’t want to move too fast…”

“I don’t think we’re moving fast,” you reply, your hand caressing his cheek delicately before you climb off his lap, grabbing his hand to pull him off of the couch.  Hoseok follows after you, stumbling over his feet as you take him to his bedroom.

A teasing smile appears on your lips as you lead him to his bed, taking a seat on it before pulling him on top of you.  Hoseok chuckles, catching himself to avoid squishing you as your hands cup his face to pull him close.  

“You take my breath away, angel,” you giggle, kissing Hoseok’s nose before pressing your lips on his.  He kisses you back slowly, allowing you to set the pace as he nestled himself between your legs.  You arch into him, feeling his hand move up your thigh to grip your hip, his fingertips grazing your panties.  

A moan escapes you, your boyfriend’s lips kissing down your jaw toward your neck.  You grip his hair tightly, a groan tumbling from his lips as you tug on his thick locks.  Your legs wrap around his hips, your hands tugging at his shirt to pull it over his chest.  

You take a second to admire his body, your hands running over the smooth planes of his torso.  Hoseok allows his eyes to flutter shut, reveling in the feeling of your sweet touch, his body thrumming with excitement.  He reaches for your hand, bringing it to his lips to plant featherlight kisses on each of your fingertips before you let your hand fall back onto his chest.  His eyes follow it, mesmerized by the way you trace his abs until your hand is skimming by the button of his pants. 

With a raised brow, Hoseok swallows thickly as your eyes meet his, dilated and filled with lust.  

“Do you want to?” Your cheeks bloom with heat, hoping your boyfriend has heard your low murmur.  You blink, biting your bottom lip as your hair falls behind you.  Your shoulders become exposed, drawing Hoseok’s attention; his hand reaching out to touch you delicately.  

“So much,” he admits sheepishly as his lips capture yours, drawing a moan from you.  You move, pushing him onto his back until you’re straddling his hips, his pants now undone as you drag your nails down his chest.  

“Ah, fuck,” he breathes, eyes closing as he rocks his head from side to side, his hair splayed on the pillow as your nails graze his nipples.  

You grin, leaning down to kiss his chest, your tongue running down his chest over the ridge of his abs.  A sigh of content escapes your boyfriend’s lips, your name rolling off his tongue sweetly.  

Your lips press a gentle kiss to his skin, your hands planted firmly on his thighs, feeling his taut muscles.  His chest rises and falls, his hand twitching to become laced in your hair.  

When your eyes meet his, you ask, “can I?”

“Of course, love.  Go ahead,” Hoseok responds, trying time conceal his excitement as you begin taking his pants off. He raises his hips to help you tug them down his thighs, your eyes landing on the bulge in his boxers.  

Hoseok’s cheeks become rose-tinted, feeling shy under your lustful gaze as you toss his pants off the bed.  You kneel between his legs before moving over his body to kiss him as his hands roam over every inch of your body.  His hands play with the hem of your dress before pulling it over your head and setting it aside. 

Arousal pools in your abdomen, your hands moving behind your back to unclip your bra before discarding it on the floor.  

Hoseok swipes his tongue along his bottom lip, his hungry eyes taking in your bare chest, “so pretty.”

You giggle, shaking your head at him before your hand runs over his torso, smiling when his breath hitches in his throat.  With curious eyes, Hoseok watches you intently as you place a delicate kiss below his navel.  

“Please,” he whimpers, his hands gripping his bedsheets while you slowly pull his boxers down his thighs, his thick cock slapping against his stomach.  You lick your lips, Hoseok blushes beneath you, avoiding your gaze while you marvel over his throbbing erection.  Precum beads at the tip, running down his length as your tongue licks it up.  

Your boyfriend sighs happily, eyes closing as heat runs through his veins, arousal building in him as your lips wrapped around him.  A curse leaves his lips, his hand gripping your hair into a faux ponytail as you suckle on the head.  Moans of pleasure fill the room as Hoseok loses himself.  Your warm, wet mouth feels euphoric on his cock. 

“Oh, angel,” Hoseok can’t keep quiet as his head lolls back, his body thrumming with pleasure as you bob your head up and down, engulfing him fully.  You inhale harshly through your nose, your hands planted firmly on his thighs as you coat him with saliva for an easier glide.  Every noise that escapes Hoseok’s heart-shaped lips has you pulsating, yearning to be filled as your panties become slick with arousal.  

“Keep going, fuck,” more curses escape him, pride warming your chest as you make your boyfriend nearly unravel beneath you.  You slurp lewdly, your hand lazily stroking his cock while you mouth at the head.  Your tongue peeks out from between your lips to tease at his slit.  

You feel Hoseok’s thighs tremble, his head thrashing from side to side as he begs you to make him cum.  You sit up, your hand languidly stroking him, “not yet.  I’ve waited way too long for this.”

A cry of protest makes you giggle as you kiss Hoseok on the lips, your tongue meeting his.  You lose yourself in the kiss, his hands cupping your face as your hand continues to stroke him, your thumb smearing his precum on his dick.  

“Let me taste you,” Hoseok bites back a moan, his abs tightening as his eyes squeeze shut.  A shaky breath passes his lips, restraining the urge to cum. 

“Please.”  You acquiesce, brushing your lips against his before he’s quickly switching places with you, a smile on your lips as he pins your wrists to the pillow.  

“You turn me on so much.”

“Do I?” You grin smugly as his hands release yours.  His touch makes your nerves go haywire, his penetrating gaze freezes you in your spot.  The delicate touch of his fingers makes your breathing airy, soft pants leave you as you anticipate his next move. 

His lips trail kisses down your jaw to your neck, inhaling your sweet scent once again.  He buries his nose in your neck, his soft lips mouthing at your throat as moans of his name tumble hastily from your lips. 

Hoseok grins smugly, a lustful twinkle in his eyes as he trails butterfly kisses down to your chest.  Your hands lace themselves in his hair, sighing happily as his lips plant kisses on both of your breasts.  

“Seok,” you moan, your head lolling back as you feel his tongue swirl around your hard nipple.  His teeth graze it, your thighs twitch, arousal smearing on your skin.  A heady breath escapes you, your fingers running through his hair as his lips mark your flesh.  

“I love all the pretty noises you make for me,” Hoseok states absentmindedly, his fingers rolling your other nipple with ease before his lips are wrapped around the other once again.  

Once your chest is marked prettily, he kisses his way down your body, listening to your moans attentively as he kisses down your body.  A sheen of sweat covers the two of you, but you’re too aroused to care about sweating.  

Hoseok’s fingers dance across your hips, moving lower to part your thighs as he sits between them.  You bite your bottom lip, your body thrumming with excitement as Hoseok’s hooded eyes meet your own.  

“Fuck,” he curses, his body lowering to place feather-light kisses on each of your thighs.  He nips and bites at your flesh, your surprised squeals turning into giggles as the slight pain settles.  

“Please,” your breathy voice has Hoseok yearning to touch you, to feel you in any way possible. 

“Please what?” Hoseok raises a brow, scooting back slightly as he grabs your right ankle and brings it to his lips.

You huff in exasperation, tired of his teasing.  Your boyfriend is unbothered, his breathy chuckle making your body bloom with heat.  Hoseok grins cheekily, his lips trailing kisses up your calf, past your knee and to the apex of your thighs.

Your eyes meet his, noting the way his chest rises and falls, his hair falling over his eyes but his hand pushes it away to expose his forehead.  

“Wow,” you breathe in awe.

Hoseok smiles sheepishly, “what?”

“You’re just so...beautiful.”  Hoseok blushes, growing shy before he moves to lean over you, his lips capturing yours in a sweet, gentle kiss.

Hoseok loves kissing you, he could lose himself in each kiss and experience a certain euphoria that he had never felt before.  He wonders if you feel the same.

Hoseok is between your thighs once again, his tongue swipes along your wet folds, keening at the taste.  He doesn’t tease you, he can’t restrain himself much longer as he dives in further, your arousal coating his lips and tongue.

Hoseok moans in ecstasy, his lips coated with your arousal as he delves in deeper.  Your arousal lingers on his tongue as he holds your thighs apart.  You lose yourself to the euphoria of his touch, allowing him to take over completely.

His tongue laves at your wet folds, your body wanting more of him as your hips rise to meet his lips.  His hands hold you down, his lips wrapping around your clit, suckling it gently then adding more pressure.  Hoseok makes your head spin, drawing moans from you that you’d be embarrassed about if you weren’t with Hoseok.  He had you crying out, his tongue and fingers bringing you to the edge faster than you expected.

“Hoseok,” you call out his name in warning; for you or for him, you’re not sure.  He smirks, not slowing as he continues his actions, your hands gripping the sheets tightly, your thighs aching to shut but Hoseok holds them open.

“Ngh,” you grunt, your body shaking slightly as you cum, your grip on the sheets falling slack just as your body does.

You try to catch your breath, chest rising and falling as you drape your arm over your eyes.  Your thighs are still trembling, your breathing is still heavy as you sigh in content. 

“That was as amazing as I remember,” you breathe out, moving your arm off your eyes to look at Hoseok.  His dark eyes have you biting your bottom lip, his flushed body making you spread your legs further as he leans over you to kiss you.

He snuggles his face into your neck, inhaling your scent before kissing you.  

“Just as amazing as you remember?  Good,” he smirks as he plants his lips on yours as your fingers lace in his hair.  Your kiss deepens, soft moans escaping the both of you as his hand slides between your bodies to wrap around his cock.  

“Oh, Hoseok,” you moan his name in a sultry tone, feeling the head of his cock push into you slowly, stretching you open.  You curse, pulling your boyfriend into a kiss as he bottoms out.  

“Fuck, baby.  You feel so good,” he groans as he thrusts in and out, his eyes on your face to check for any discomfort; he’s pleased to see nothing but pleasure.

“Hoseok,” your dulcet tone has him melting, his pace growing steady as he kisses you once again.  Your legs wrapped tightly around his hips, pulling him close as your nails raked down his back.  Your name tumbles from his lips, a deep moan that has you clenching around him.  His hips stutter, a pleasured sigh escaping his pretty heart-shaped lips.

“I’ve missed you, missed this.  Missed kissing you…” Hoseok grunts, pushing in deeper as his finger rubs at your clit, drawing a saccharine moan from you.  “Fucking you.  I can’t get enough of you, angel.”

“I missed you too, Seokie.”  You respond, your hips rising off the bed to meet his as his lips capture yours.  His thrusts grow slower, but deeper as he grinds down on you.  Your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as you moan against his lips.  

It’s when his lips trail kisses from your lips to our neck, that you begin to unravel.  Cries of his name escape your lips as you beg him not to stop, to fuck you harder, deeper.  Hoseok grunts, his pace picking up as noses at your neck; his sweet sounds of passion making your head spin.  

Pleasure courses throughout our body like a fire spreading, licking at your nerves until it finally becomes too much, “Hoseok!”

Your voice trembles just like your thighs as Hoseok’s fingers rub at your clit.  You curse; your orgasm washing over you.  Hoseok grins proudly, his hooded eyes on your face, taking in your fucked out expression, enjoying the way your cunt is pulsating around his cock.  

“That’s it, baby.  Cum for me,” he encourages, his voice soft as he watches you ride out your orgasm.  

“Fuck,” your head lolls back into the pillow, your body sweaty and flushed.  Hoseok chuckles, peppering kisses on your face as he fucks you slowly.

Hoseok groans, your wet pussy becoming too much for him.  His lips nip at the column of your throat, your fingers threading and tugging at his dark locks.  Hoseok fights back the urge to admit his deep feelings for you, the words sitting on his tongue but prevented from being spoken as he moans your name instead; his secret hidden.

“Oh, fuck,” he grunts as he pulls out of you, rolling to lay beside you.  His hair sticks to his damp forehead, his hand pushing it back to wipe away his sweat.  You smile, moving closer to him, pecking his lips.

Your hand reaches out for his, lacing your fingers with him.  He squeezes it, “I’ve missed you, angel.”

A bashful smile appears on your lips, snuggling further into him, “I missed you too, Hoseok.  I’m glad we’re together again.”

Part fifty-three: I can’t wait either

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