#You just want to give him a hug and a crisp 20$

[pianokantzart]

A little obsessed with the "utterly burnt out & can't quite figure out how to make it work in this economy" depiction of Mario in the concept art.

Look at him. He's so tired.

[beomie3]

seoul - choi soobin

bf!soobin x reader

summary: a night in the sparkling city of seoul with your boyfriend is all you could ever ask for <3

content: rainy city night vibe, date night in seoul, extreme fluff, movie date, cuddles, soft smut, soobin is whippeddd and gives you everything you want bc you’re his princess :3 soob is a teeny bit dom in bed this time around hehe

wc: 1.8k

♫ title track: seoul - rm

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:

seoul city lights lit the wet cement under your feet, finding beauty in the way it reflected the buildings like a mirror. the scent of rain flooded your senses with every deep breath in, entranced with the gentle pitter-patter on the umbrella overhead.

"bin we're gonna be late!" you giggled, hugging your boyfriend tightly under the umbrella you shared, having to hold it a bit lower to his head with how much taller he was than you. you stood on your tiptoes, kissing the tip of his nose when he faced you, cold and red from the chilly breeze.

the corners of his lips curled upward, eyes nearly closing with a big smile as a giggle escaping his lips; the sight and sound you so loved, making your heart bloom every single time.

arriving at the theatre, soobin held the door for you, sliding the umbrella closed and tucking it under his arm. the warm, popcorn scented air brought nostalgia to you at an instant, wanting to hop around like you were a little kid again.

he found your excitement adorable, taking his phone out on the sly and capturing a few candid photos of you with your hands full with popcorn, candy, an icee; everything you wanted.

you situated yourselves in the cushiony loveseat, soobin's long arm immediately wrapping around your shoulder, bringing you close to his side. of course, it was natural by now, but your heart still beat like it was your first date. the scent of his fresh hoodie, the warmth of his chest against your cheek. he was your home.

enjoying the movie you'd been waiting to see for months alongside soobin was the perfect way to start off your night together; looking up at him when he laughed at something funny on the screen, feeling his laughter vibrate through his chest and immediately rubbing off on you like a happy pill.

when he caught you looking at him he'd smile down at you, leaning down to press his lips to yours for a quick peck. or two. or three.

stepping out into the cold night after sitting in a warm theatre for hours was refreshing, filling your lungs with crisp, damp air. your boyfriend ran a few finger through his black hair, showcasing his beautiful face you could just stare at forever. knowing that if you told him how handsome he is he'd cover his face and deny it.

on the way home, you ordered chicken and beer, your favorite late night meal to share together after a fun night out. curled up on the couch of his high rise apartment together, laughing over stupid jokes and devouring the drumstick in your hand.

"have i ever told you that you look exactly like a bunny?" you tilted your head, pinching his cheek, flushed from several drinks.

"you literally tell me that all the time!" he folded over into your lap with a squeaky laugh, coming up for a breath with a hand was over his mouth.

"stop covering your mouth and let me see your cute bunny teeth!" you wrestled his big hand away from his mouth, realizing he wouldn't budge so you tickled his sides, making him jolt away.

you held his face with two hands, the pretty face you could just hold and kiss for an eternity.

"such a cute bunny," you pressed a kiss to his puckered lips, then peppering them all around his face. he wrinkled his nose, hugging the plush of your thighs

~

brushing your teeth together consisted of blasting music through his phone, using your toothbrush as a makeshift microphone for a solid 20 minutes before you decided it was time to actually use it for its purpose.

the city view from his apartment was the prettiest view of seoul there was; sitting at his bed in front of the large pane windows and just watching the city together, his long fingers raking through your scalp as you lay in his lap.

"i love seoul," his voice emerged from the stillness of the room, eyes following the droplets of water that scurried a long the glass.

"only because it's where i met you." you turned to face him as he tucked your hair behind your ear, sitting up on your arm, hair messy from him playing around with it. but what could you say, it was your favorite hairstyle only because he styled it.

"i love seoul too. only because of this one giant bunny." you grinned, his smile slowly growing in the dark, only lit by the city lights. you slowly met his lips as he leaned in, kissing them gently, forever entranced with how soft they were.

he ghosted his fingers along your jaw, then down your arm, it's faintness bringing chills to pelt your body all over, breath hitched in your throat.

you wore one of his oversized shirts, suddenly conscious that you wore nothing but panties underneath, wanting him to slip both off of you at this instant.

soobin was always slow and gentle with you, taking his time to properly warm you, give you the attention you wanted and needed.

pulling you to his straddle his lap, the kisses grew hot and heavy, sensing the tent in his boxers grow against you, wrapping your arms around him.

slowly lifting the large cotton shirt over your head he threw it aside, pressing your warm chest to his and exploring one another's mouths with the dart of tongues.

he switched your positions; laying you down on your back onto the cold sheets, gently lowering your head to the pillow. lowering his weight fully on top of you, loving the feeling of his bare torso and chest on yours, skin to skin, running your fingers across the plains of his back.

with the swiftness of his long fingers, your panties were off and just another mere article of clothing on the floor. one by one they collected in a heap on until you were both completely bare against one another.

"binnie," you whispered against his lips in between a heated kiss. "mhm?" he ghosted his lips over your cheek, soft yet needy eyes on yours.

"i need you, please-," you squirmed helplessly against him, afraid that you couldn't deal with one more second of him not inside of you.

"-need my pretty baby," you wrapped your legs around his hips to cage him in, hands around the back of his neck to pull him into your lips.

he moaned against your mouth at the sensation of your hot skin right up against his, the plush of your breasts squeezing against his chest. he just couldn't take it anymore.

"you need me baby? i'll give it to you, i'll give it all to my pretty princess," his voice was hoarse yet soft against your neck, his neediness to ram into you was through the roof. he just couldn't wait to be buried inside of you and make love to you.

after grinding himself against your wet entrance, he decided it was time and lined himself up with you, staring into your eyes to nearly catch a glimpse of your soul when he slowly thrusted into you.

the moans that left your mouth were unexplainable. the way your tongue danced with his, the way your walls fluttered around him, the way your hands grasped at each other’s skin and hair. in this moment, you were one. you loved this feeling more than anything, the feeling of being united with the love of your life.

your legs squeezed tighter around his hips as he interlaced your fingers and pinned them to either side of your head, heightening your senses as you were completely out of control. your binnie was feeling a bit dominant tonight…and it turned you on beyond comprehension.

"just relax and let me love you baby," he whispered into your ear and you nearly lost it. legs going limp by his sides and just letting him take over. it felt so amazing; your body moving up and down with each and every of his thrusts.

"i love you so much," he kissed your lips so softly, wrestling with your tongue in between every moan and whimper. the feeling of love that encapsulated your heart in this moment was overwhelming and you realized you were already so close to your climax.

"i love you so much bin- i'm getting…close-" you threw your head back and he knew what was around the corner.

"let it all go baby, give it all to me," his deepened his thrusts and quickened his hips against yours the perfect pace until you were right on the cusp, just one more thrust and you would completely unravel around him.

"oh god soobin!! right there” you whimpered and he caught your moan with his mouth, kissing you so deeply as your sounds harmonized, the twitch of his thick cock with the spasms of your walls as you came crashing down, catching your breath like it was your last.

he unpinned your hands and they flew directly to his hair, grabbing handfuls as you came so hard around him, his large hands grabbing a handful of your hips as he emptied his warmth deep inside of you.

you came quicker than normal tonight, maybe because you felt your love so deeply for him in this moment, or maybe because he was being a bit more dominant that it didn’t take much to have your heart racing with the heat of a fresh orgasm.

his forehead was gently plastered to yours, beads of sweat transferring from his ends of his hair to yours, mixing together in a sweet concoction of your love.

when your eyes fluttered open you were met with his deep brown, almost black eyes in this lighting. the city lights nearly sparkling in them as they shined so brightly through the window beside you.

this entire time he kept himself buried within you, that was, until he remembered the bath bombs he just bought and so direly wanted to try with you.

he slowly pulled himself out of you, placing his gentle lips to your damp forehead, kissing the spot more than ten times, going from soft to more aggressive as your laughs got progressively louder.

“my princess deserves a bath after being so good to me,” he looked at you with smiling eyes, wrapping his arms under your shoulder blades to peel you off of the bed.

your legs wrapped around his hips instinctively when he picked you up and carried you to the bathroom.

he began showing you all of the bath bombs he bought the other day on his way home from work, displaying them all on the bathroom counter and going on about how he thought you’d love the scent of each one and how he’s been wanting to use them with you.

your heart was filled with so much joy in this moment, all day for a matter of fact. as long as you were with soobin you felt right at home. it felt like a dream, living in seoul with such an amazing guy who treated you like a princess.

your big bunny, your home, your soobin <3

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:

a/n: this idea was in the drafts for a while but i finally decided to bring it to life. i just love city lights so much and these rainy night pics of soob just went so well with it. hope u all enjoyed! <3

here is a other pic of soob from this night hehe

[makeitmingi]

The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 20]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.4K

"Say hi to your parents for me." You smiled, leaning against the door. You were still wrapped up in the blanket you dragged from your bed to walk Seonghwa out.

"You can come with me, you know? They did ask you to tag along." Seonghwa chuckled.

"I know, your parents have always loved me more. But you barely spend any time with your parents now, Hwa. I'm sure they miss you. Just go and... be their son. Don't worry about me." You giggled. Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

"I am still their son, I've never denied it." He scoffed.

"I know that. Tell them I'll be there next time." You said. Seonghwa nodded, reaching to to kiss your forehead and hug you before he left your apartment.

Mr and Mrs Park were there for you through it all. They were there for you after your mum passed away, they looked after you like their own daughter whenever you left home because of your stepmother.

"Oh, my soup!" You ditched the blanket by the doorway and went to the kitchen to check on your soup.

"Just what I need." You took home some seolleongtang from yesterday, wanting to add sliced beef and rice cakes for your lunch.

'Psst. Is your bodyguard gone yet? - Woo'

'You know I can't actually hear you through text, right Woo? And if you're referring to Seonghwa, yes. He just left to meet his parents not too long ago. - (y/n)'

'Perfect! I'll be there in 30 minutes, I'm going to buy some snacks first. - Woo'

You laughed, shaking your head as you put your phone aside. Reaching into your fridge, you took out more stock to prepare a portion of food for Wooyoung too. Wooyoung and Jongho both dropped by on their own from time to time to hang out with you, just like Seonghwa did.

"I'm here, jagiya!" Wooyoung announced loudly. You turned around to see him folding the blanket you left at the doorway earlier, draping it over his arm.

"Hi, Woo. And thanks." You smiled softly. He nodded and went to return the blanket to your room.

"What are you making?" He came, peering over your shoulder.

"Yesterday's seolleongtang. I just added some meat, rice cake and napa." You said, stirring the pot. He tugged you to him to hug you tightly, his arms circling your waist and chin on your shoulder.

"My jagi~" He giggled, giving you a loud kiss on the cheek before pulling away.

"You always do that to make Seonghwa angry." You snorted, turning the flame down for the soup to let it simmer.

"No. He's just jealous he can't do it." He rolled his eyes. When the soup was done, Wooyoung portioned the food out and you both sat at your counter to eat together. You topped your soup with red pepper flakes and spring onions.

"Bowl of comfort right here." He pointed at the bowl with his spoon as he chewed his food.

"That's what you say about post-Christmas split pea and ham soup." You laughed. After Christmas ham was eaten, you usually kept the bone to make pea and ham soup. It was practically a tradition.

"There are a lot of things that can bring you comfort, (y/n)." He pinched your cheek, making you wince.

"These fritters are good." You said, eating on a gimmari that Wooyoung bought.

"It's from the market near my place. A new stall run by an older couple but the food is always good. Crisp and fresh." He informed. You nodded, taking a vegetable fritter to eat.

"So, what did you think about yesterday?" Wooyoung casually asked.

"It went well. It was nice cooking at such a magnitude again, you know, cooking fancier dishes and stuff. With our small team, I don't think I can do it every night along with the morning bakes. But maybe we should do themed nights then. I'll suggest it to Yunho." You said as you leaned on one hand.

"That's nice and all. But I meant more... meeting the families." Wooyoung threaded lightly.

"I'm fine, Woo. I'm not gonna start spiralling just because I saw happy families. Was I envious? Yes, I'll admit that I was. But that's just how it is, nothing I can do about it." You shrugged.

"Okay, I just want to make sure you're okay. I am here for you." He slid his hand over yours.

"You know, I told Hwa that before we left, Yunho's mother hugged me. It... felt nice... In a familiar sort of way." You laughed bitterly.

"How so?"

"It's different from the hugs your mother, Mrs Park and Mrs Choi gives me. I may be going crazy but it just reminded me of my mother." You sighed.

"No, you're not going crazy, jagi. I understand. Like how my mother's hugs will always feel and be different. I get it." He giggled.

After the meal, you and Wooyoung did the dishes and cleaned up before sitting on the couch together. There was a random show playing on the television but it was mostly background sounds used to fill the space.

"Tell me something." Wooyoung started, taking a handful of popcorn and eating it from his hand. You hummed, fiddling with a stray string on your shared blanket.

"The dish you made yesterday. You chose galbi jjim because it's Yunho's favourite, right?" He asked. You remained silent.

"What's up with that? You and Yunho." He probed further.

"I... I don't know..." You shrugged with a soft sigh. Wooyoung was someone who was very in touch with his emotions while you were not. Maybe he could help you make sense of things.

"I need you to pick my brain." You confessed a little too honestly. Wooyoung's eyes widened.

"Jagi, I hope you don't mean that literally. Because you know I love you but brains..." He laughed.

"Be serious! I need you to help me understand things." You groaned and kicked his thigh, which was next to your food. He yelped and pouted at you.

"Try me. Tell me everything." Wooyoung encouraged. You took a while to try and form your thoughts into coherant sentences. He was patient though, Wooyoung always was, never rushing you or sarcastically commenting. You sifted through all your feelings in each situation you've been in with Yunho.

"How do you know if you like someone? Romantically. Rather than just, enjoying their company as a friend." You asked.

"Hmm. Well, what else do you feel when you're in that person's company? Yes, enjoying their company is one thing. Do you feel anything else?" He asked back.

"I like it, I don't want our time to end. But don't you feel that way with friends too?"

"Let's put it this way. When you are with Yunho, do you feel it's different than when you're with us?" He explained.

"Yeah. I feel like a different person entirely, more at peace. Like I want to get to know more about him and at the same time, I want to share more about myself. Which is rare." You said.

"There you go." Wooyoung nodded.

"I always thought it was just because you guys are noisy and chaotic, that's why Yunho brings me peace." You blinked.

"Yah." Wooyoung flicked a popcorn at you. You snickered, picking up the popcorn to pop into your mouth. Wooyoung's words sunk in, did you like Yunho? Romantically? It almost scared you at the thought of loving someone.

"Hey. Don't get lost in there." Wooyoung's hand slipped over yours, breaking your internal spiralling. You looked up and he sent you a gentle smile. He just knew you too well, all the boys did.

"What should I do? I'm scared of feeling this way, Woo." You asked in a whisper.

"What do you want to do? Do you want to tell him?" He asked.

"And then what?"

"Silly girl. If he likes you back, then you can try going on dates together. You don't have to get into a relationship right away. Try spending more time together." He chuckled.

"I know with everything you've been through, you are scared of your feelings. But I see how you are with him. He makes you happy." He smiled.

"I'm broken, you know? Yunho doesn't even know anything about my past. It feels wrong to hide it from him. But I'm afraid that he finds out and it scares him. He looks at life so beautifully while I can barely put myself together." You forced a bitter smile as tears started to form. Wooyoung leaned forward, cupping your cheeks.

"Hey, hey. Don't you say that about yourself. You're not broken, jagi. You're the toughest person I know. Life put you through the wringer and yet, here you are." His thumbs stroked your cheeks.

"It's all because of Hwa... And you... And Jongho." You shook your head, tears streaming down your face.

"No. It's because of you. You pulled yourself out of there. I'm sure Yunho can see what a beautiful person you are. Inside and out." Wooyoung said firmly.

"I love you, jagi." Wooyoung hugged you to his chest.

"You don't have to tell him everything at the moment. When your heart is ready." He stroked the back of your head.

"Thank you, Woo." You murmured, pressing your face into the material of his shirt.

"Whatever you decide to do, I'll always be here for you, jagiya. I just hate seeing you hurt." He promised, planting an affectionate kiss to the top of your head.

When Seonghwa came back from meeting his parents, he wasn't surprised to see Wooyoung's platform shoes there. Wooyoung and Jongho always dropped by to hang with you. He found the couch empty, only the blanket there.

"Sweetheart? Wooyoung?" Seonghwa called out but there was no reply. He sighed and folded the blanket, setting it aside.

"(y/n)?" He peeked into your room to see you and Wooyoung asleep. Your upper body was resting on Wooyoung's chest, the boy's arms wrapped around your shoulders.

With a soft smile, Seonghwa adjusted the blanket over you and Wooyoung before exiting the room.

"What should I cook?" He checked the time and went to the kitchen. He dug through your fridge to see what you had to cook for dinner.

*BZZZZ*

Seonghwa checked his phone and was surprised to see the message that popped up on his screen. After typing a quick reply, he put the ingredients back into the fridge and went to wear his shoes. Just like that, he walked out of the house again even though he had only been back for 15 minutes.

"Hey." Seonghwa greeted as he entered the cafe, seeing the person who sent him the text message sit at a corner booth.

"Hey, hyung. Thanks for meeting me so suddenly. It was probably surprising for you to receive my message out of the blue." The person said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Not at all." Seonghwa cleared his throat before sitting on the opposite bench.

"Berry smoothie, please." He raised his hand to order with the waiter. Seonghwa glanced at the man, who kept his head lowered.

"Yunho, what's wrong?" Seonghwa tilted his head. Yunho cast his eyes upwards to look at Seonghwa, like a puppy that got caught doing something bad.

"I'm sorry, hyung. I... I don't know how to say this... I thought about it the whole night until this morning and I don't know how to go about doing this but my mind told me I should be apologising to you first but I didn't know how-"

"Woah, woah. Slow down. What are you talking about? Why are you apologising to me?" Seonghwa frowned.

"I... I like (y/n)." Yunho confessed.

"Okay... I think I could tell that you like her... But why are you apologising to me? It's not like she's my property or my daughter." Seonghwa was still confused.

"Isn't it against the bro code to go after your friend's girl?" Yunho asked with a wince.

"Is that what you thought? (y/n)'s not my girl... I am extremely protective of her but girlfriend? No." Seonghwa shook his head.

"Wait, you're n-not together? But I thought..." Yunho's eyes widened. Had he misunderstood the whole thing? This whole time, he assumed things and they turned out to be wrong.

"We're not dating. But like I said, I am extremely protective of her. (y/n)'s bubble is fragile and I protect it vigilantly."

"Did something happen?" Yunho asked.

"It's not my story to tell. I don't oppose of you wanting to start a relationship with her. Frankly, even if I did oppose it, I have no right. (y/n)'s her own person and she makes her own decisions. Just don't hurt her, Yunho. She puts her heart and soul into everything. If you can't do the same, leave her alone." Seonghwa warned.

"No, no. I promise I won't hurt her. I can't even fathom the thought of her being hurt." Yunho said earnestly. Every time Yunho was with you, he just wanted to hug you and take care of you.

"Do you think she likes me back?" Yunho asked. Seonghwa knew you best and spent the most time with you. He would know.

"Not for me to say. I don't want to get your hopes up or give you any expectations. That's a conversation you should have with her." Seonghwa replied.

"All I can say is, be patient with her." Seonghwa advised with a kind smile. Just then, his phone rang.

"Hey, Wooyoung... You're cooking alone?... Oh, she's still sleeping..." Yunho sipped his drink, assuming 'she' was you.

"I actually ran into Yunho... Mmm, we're just having drinks... I'll ask him." Yunho straightened up when he saw Seonghwa pulled the phone away from his ear.

"Would you like to join us for dinner?" Seonghwa asked.

"Oh but I wouldn't want to intrude-"

"Yeah, he'll be there. I'll come with him." The older said and hung up. Yunho's eyes widened, unable to say anything. Seonghwa chuckled and tucked his phone back as they finished their drinks. Yunho insisted on paying after asking Seonghwa out.

"Hyung, what if I can't act like myself around her? I don't want to be accidentally blurting things out. It already almost happened once." Yunho panicked slightly.

"You'll be fine. It's just dinner. Besides, Wooyoung and I will be there." He laughed, patting the taller on the shoulder.

"You know her address, right?" Seonghwa stood at his car door. Yunho nodded and the two split up to drive back to your house.

When the two entered the house, Yunho could immediately smell something delicious being cooked in the kitchen. Wooyoung hummed as he moved around the kitchen.

"Hey, you two." Wooyoung greeted.

"Hey." Seonghwa dropped his coat on the couch while Yunho bowed politely and draping his coat over the bar chair.

"She's still asleep, hyung." Wooyoung informed turning around to face the stove. Seonghwa nodded and moved down the hall to where Yunho presumed your room was.

"Don't stand around. Sit, sit. Make yourself at home. Want something to drink?" Wooyoung waved at Yunho. It was amazing how Wooyoung and Seonghwa, probably Jongho too, treated this house like their own house. They were so comfortable here, they knew where everything was.

"Ah!" Yunho jumped when he heard Seonghwa yell. Wooyoung didn't even flinch, cooking the food like it was normal.

"Is... everything okay?" Yunho asked.

"Oh yeah. (y/n)'s probably just trying to kill him for waking her up. Don't worry about it." Wooyoung shrugged. Seonghwa emerged from the room first.

"She's up." Seonghwa announced. Wooyoung opened his mouth to say something.

"Oh my god!" You yelped and the sound of your rapid footsteps were heard, followed by the sound of your room door slamming close.

"PARK SEONGHWA!" You shouted from your room. Yunho smiled to himself, he found you so adorable.

"I was just going to ask if you preempted her about Yunho being here... Guess not..." Wooyoung snickered. Seonghwa sighed and went back to the room.

"What is Yunho doing here?! Why didn't you tell me?" You hissed the moment Seonghwa came in. You were getting presentable clothes to change to considering you were wearing one of Jongho's shirts and really old, torn home shorts.

"I ran into him and invited him for dinner. I couldn't tell you because you were strangling me for waking you up." Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

"Oh my gosh." You slapped your forehead.

"What?" Seonghwa blinked. You shook your head with a sigh and went to your bathroom, making sure you brushed your teeth and looked presentable enough.

"Sorry about that. Hi, Yunho." You greeted as you came out. Yunho got off the bar stool.

"Hi, (y/n). Not need to apologise. Sorry for intruding." He smiled kindly. You tied your hair up into a bun and entered the kitchen area.

"Smells good, Woo. What are you making?" You asked Wooyoung, opening the fridge and pouring yourself a glass of cold brew coffee.

"Whatever you had in the fridge. So minced mushroom and cabbage stir fry, sweet and sour pork collar strips, bavette steak and side dishes." He informed. You nodded with a hum.

"I'll do the bavette." You said, putting your coffee aside and grabbing your apron. Seonghwa took whatever kale you had left to make a lemony kale salad with feta cheese and chopped cashews. Yunho volunteered to help Seonghwa with the salad since it seemed like the item he would screw up the least on.

"Sorry, it'll be scraps. We usually just eat whatever is in my fridge with rice." You apologised to Yunho as you stood next to him, seasoning the steak while he crumbled the feta.

"Not at all, it's fun. I look forward to see what dishes you come up with." Yunho laughed.

"You massage the kale like this to break it down. Makes it easier to chew and digest." Seonghwa explained to Yunho.

"Ooh, that's interesting. I never knew you could do that." Yunho said, amazed. Standing at the stove, you couldn't help but snicker at Yunho's pure amazement.

"Are you laughing at me?" Yunho turned around with a pout.

"Not at all." You shook your head innocently. You heated up the cast iron and cooked the steak. Yunho helped to cook the rice to have with the other dishes while Seonghwa and you took out all the side dishes from your fridge.

"Set a timer for 5 minutes." You said to your phone to set a timer, letting the bavette steak rest on the cutting board before you could cut into it.

"Help me stir the cabbage." Wooyoung requested. Seonghwa grabbed the cooking spoon to stir the cabbage as it wilted further.

"I'll slice the steak." You grabbed your knife to slice it. With Seonghwa and Wooyoung by the stove, Yunho stood by you, silently watching you slice the meat in a 'fancy, angled' way.

"Even this feels elaborate..." Yunho chuckled rubbing the back of his neck.

"Is it? We're just clearing the fridge. How do you clear your fridge then?" You laughed.

"Ramen?" He tilted his head. The two of you shared a laugh at your differences. When all the food was ready, the 4 of you grabbed a plate to scoop the food like cafeteria style before sitting in the living room together to eat. It was informal but not awkward with small conversations here and there.

"I'll bring the recycling down." You told Seonghwa and Wooyoung, who were drying the dishes Yunho just washed. Yunho grabbed his coat, ready to head down.

"Thank you for cooking." Yunho bid the two goodbye.

"See you tomorrow." They waved back. You and Yunho headed downstairs. Yunho followed you to put the recycling in the corner before you were to split ways.

"Thanks for having me." Yunho smiled softly.

"No need to thank. You can come over any time." You chuckled, a small smile on your face.

"Goodnight." He wished. You hummed to express the same sentiment. As you were about to turn back to head into the lift lobby, Yunho grabbed your wrist to stop you. You faced him in confusion.

"Yunho, what-"

"(y/n), I like you. And if you would give me a chance, I would like to take you out for dinner."

~

Series masterlist

[dingochef]

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (MDNI 18+ Only), Angst with a Happy Ending, Stalking, P in V, oral (female and male receiving), Semi-public sex, light spanking,

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary:

Another day, another stupid man to deal with. You run into a familiar face when you go to meet up with the face and person that's been on your mind all day.

Masterlist

Chapter 4

Chapter 5: Nancy Drew and the Instagram Account

You start your Sunday early to beat the sun and the heat. Your cycling group is meeting up on the San Diego waterfront just as the sun rises. The day is clear and just a bit crisp. You revel in the chill now as it will heat up soon, especially with the hilly route on deck for today. The ride starts easily with the Bay Shore Bikeway up to La Jolla then it heats up with a trip to the top of Mount Soledad, the ride down is fast enough that you can feel the moisture in your eyes being wicked away by the arid dry air. The rest of the course skirts around the eastern edges and suburbs of San Diego. After a few stops for water and some snacks to keep you energized, the ride winds down at about 2 pm where you started. You start packing away some of your gear and sit to change your shoes to get on the ferry. As you're tying the laces on your shoes, a shadow looms over you.

“Elsa, how’s it going?”

Bill asks. Of course it’s Bill, he does this every time the group meets.

“I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner with me tonight, like a date?”

Bill is nice, but he’s also a good 20 years older than you and more like your father than is comfortable in the dating scene.

“Sorry Bill, answer’s still the same, no. Besides I have plans tonight,” the thought of Jake brings an unconscious smile to your lips.

“Come on, Elsa, you’ve got to give in sometime, I’m just trying to be a nice guy. It’s just one date, I’ll cook you dinner at my house, a little wine, it’ll be a nice night. You gotta say yes.”

You sigh, knowing that what is going to come out your mouth next is going to make the next meet up the group awkward as fuck, but you can deal with akward.

“Bill, how many times have you asked me out?”

He shrugs,

“A lot, I guess.”

“And I always say no. What makes you keep asking when you get the same answer? That’s the literal definition of insanity.”

“I figure persistence pays off and besides I’m a nice guy, give me a chance.”

“Bill, the answer today, tomorrow, and every time in the future is going to be no. N. O. I don’t want to date some overbearing guy who has no respect for what I say and what boundaries I draw. Being a “nice guy” doesn’t entitle you to a date.”

By this time others in the cycling group are starting to notice the exchange. Millie, who is a retired Navy Captain, steps over to see what’s going on.

“Jeez, Elsa, you don’t have to be such a bitch about it.”

“Bill, if you think this is me being a bitch, buckle up buttercup, you haven’t seen anything yet. I can’t help that your sense of language comprehension and pattern recognition is that of a four-year old, you sad old man. No means no. We’re done here.”

You start to walk your bike towards the ferry terminal and Millie runs over to catch up.

“You okay?” she asks, giving you a side hug.

“Yeah, just tired of dealing with Bill’s bullshit week after week. I just want to come ride and hang out with friends. Not ward off old dudes trying to get into my pants.”

“We’ll take care of it, Bill’s out of the group, easy peasy,”

Millie says. Millie is one of the founding members of the cycling group and part of a kick-ass group of older retired military women who deal with exactly zero shit from anyone.

“Thanks, Millie, I appreciate that. I gave him so many outs, but he kept coming back into the danger zone.”

She shrugs,

“Some people are just dumb. You did good back there. Do you need anyone to see you home in case he gets weird about it?”

“No, keep him occupied for about 15 minutes while I get on the ferry and I’ll be good.”

You give Millie a hug and wave goodbye as you get on your bike to ride the last little distance to the ferry. When you get home you jump into the shower to rinse all of the day’s gross parts off, real and metaphorical.

As you're getting out of the shower you hear your phone ding:

Lydia: So you and Hangman, becoming a thing? A baseball game (glad you found a dork that likes baseball) and dinner at what I know is your favorite restaurant (the tapas place in the Gaslamp Quarter.) It's like you’re putting your best moves on him.

You: I'm not putting my moves on him, you and I both know I have exactly zero moves. He offered up the baseball game as amends for being a jackass the other night at the bar. I was hungry after the game so I invited him along.

Lydia: Liar. Liar. Pants on fire! 🔥 You asked him on the dinner date. I pressed him for the deets when he mentioned going to the Padres game that I saw on your Instagram. And he crumbled like a lovesick fool. Between asking for your number and him coming back practically skipping and whistling I figured it out.

You: Alright, Nancy Drew, Girl Detective you got it right. It was Colonel Mustard in the library with a wrench.

Lydia: What are you even talking about?

You: How have you never played a game of Clue?

You: Nevermind.

Lydia: So…..how was he in the sack? These Navy guys are fucking built.

You: We only made it to my porch.

Lydia: Ooh, outdoor sex. Adventurous.

You: Not that! We just had some really nice kissing that ventured into a bit of heavy petting. And then I said good night.

Lydia: Right. And you have plans with him tonight. You like like him!

You: How did you know about that?

Lydia: The walls here are hilariously thin. You can hear everything that happens here.

You: So Jake mentioned. How was that mustache ride?

Lydia: De-fucking-lightful. 10/10 would highly recommend.

You: I'll remember that yelp review when I'm in search of a mustache ride which will be…..never. Seriously, what's up with the stache? Did he lose a bet?

Lydia: Didn't come (heh heh) up in conversation.

You: You are the worst. Talk to you later, remember to keep hydrated with all the sexing you’re doing.

Lydia: Smooches & Byeeee!

You shake your head at the conversation you just had with Lydia. Before you put your phone down you text Jake to set up the now infamous drink date tonight.

You: So, we still on for drinks tonight? How does 7 at the Hard Deck sound?

You don’t expect a reply right away and put your phone on the charger and head over to the couch with a giant jug of water and make plans to watch some TV and chill for the rest of the afternoon. Somewhere, around an hour later when you've already watched two documentaries on WWII aircraft your phone dings. In what can be described as an all out sprint you rush to your phone.

Jake: That sounds like a date. See you there. Maybe this time I'll get to buy you more than one drink, (my turn.)

You: See you then.

It's about 4 pm now, which gives you enough time to whip up a nice curry for dinner and still have time to gussy up for your date. This is actually date date.

Getting ready to go out has become more of a challenge than you anticipated. You've pulled out every dress you own and rejected each one twice. You're looking for that "Oh just drinks, you just threw on whatever to come here." Your goal is effortless grace, not "I totally overthinked every aspect of my appearance and maybe had a slight panic attack." In frustration you call Lydia, breathlessly shouting out as soon as she answers,

"You actually have fashion sense, what should I wear?"

The cackle comes out of the phone speaker first and then her reply,

"Just drinks, riiight. You’re actually trying to impress him aren't you? This is adorable, Elsa has found someone to melt her frozen heart or other parts."

She snorts at her own terrible joke and you can practically hear her eyebrows rising up and down on her forehead.

"Don't overthink it like you usually do. Wear the magenta dress with the nice flowy skirt. It'll be easy to get off later."

There's a muffled male voice in the background saying something like "Come back to bed, baby."

"Are you still at Rooster's? How are you not chafed or unable to walk?"

"No, we actually ventured out for some beach time and came back to mine, a whole lot more privacy. By the way, I might have heard a certain someone moaning another person's name last night when he presumably was taking care of his blue balls courtesy of you. Well, have fun, do something I would do, Byeeee!"

You, for some reason, follow Lydia's advice and wear the suggested dress. Wearing a bra with this dress is impossible due to the plunging back. Lydia knew exactly what she was doing when she suggested this particular dress. Scanning your underwear drawer you spot a pair of black lace boy shorts that you know make your ass look really good. After setting a light curl into your dark brown, almost black hair, you leave it down to cascade down your shoulders and back. Minimal make-up, you're always going for the natural look, but for some reason you pick a darker magenta shade of lipstick that complements the dress. You grab a light sweater and your purse and you're out the door. The walk over to the Hard Deck is nice and cool and calming. The butterflies in your stomach start to flutter as you approach the door and it hits you that you actually want to impress him tonight. It's an exhilarating and terrifying concept at the same time, what are you getting yourself into?

You don't really have time to delve into your brain after that idea as I've arrived at the Hard Deck. You push open the door and pull your sweater off. Despite it being a Sunday night the place is pleasantly buzzing with a steady hum of voices and glasses clinking together and onto tabletops around the bar. You scan the crowd and don't spot Jake anywhere so you make your way up to the bar. At the bar there's is a familiar bomber jacket and black head of hair.

"As I live and breathe, it's Maverick. And in one piece,"

You say as you sit on the open bar stool next to him. He's halfway through a swig of beer when he turns and makes the connection that it’s you sitting next to him.

"Elsa! What brings you to this place?"

"Meeting a friend for a drink."

Penny comes over and asks,

"The usual?"

You nod yes. Maverick says,

“Put that on my tab, I owe this gal a drink for stepping in as my temporary guardian angel."

Penny looks a bit confused at the statement but shrugs and goes to make your drink.

"I should be asking you the same thing, what brings you down to North Island? I thought you were just going to carry on at the Skunk Works."

He takes a swig of his beer and shrugs, "The usual pissed off an Admiral. They weren't overly impressed with me breaking "the project" apart." He uses air quotes to reference the Darkstar hypersonic stealth jet you were both working on and he was serving as the test pilot.

"I'm teaching at Top Gun for a few weeks. While the Navy decides your fate for me."

He leans over to whisper,

"Thank you for saving my life, there's no other reason I'm alive other than your life pod."

"How did it perform?" you ask quietly.

"Like riding a mattress down and landing on a marshmallow, so perfectly. Next time can you get it to drop me off near civilization rather in the middle of an orange grove near Fresno?"

You laugh,

"Jeez, so needy, not only do I save your life and give you a gentle ride back to earth, you want door to door service. I'll see what I can do."

You glance over to the door to see Jake coming through the door; he instantly scans the crowd and locks in on you. You catch his eyes and then turn back to Maverick and say,

"I'd love to get together to pick your brain on other impressions on "the project". Thanks for the drink. I’m glad you’re alive."

You lean in to hug Maverick.

Your drink has appeared on the bar and by the time Jake has jostled his way through the crowd to the bar you can see that the expression on his face has turned from that panty dropper smile to confusion and a bit of jealousy.

He swaggers up to the bar and gives you a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Both Maverick and Jake are looking at each other confused and startled.

"Hey, Captain, didn't think you'd be back here after the other night." Jake says with that patented smirk.

Maverick winks and says,

"I like the company and the scenery."

He nods his head towards Penny. You cock your head with a questioning look. Maverick sheepishly replies,

"We have a complicated…history.".

Jake asks, his signature smirk in full force,

"How do you know Elsa or are you hitting on women who are half your age and out of your league, now?"

Chapter 6

@mayhemmanaged

@callmemana

@dempy

@hangmanscoming

@lanie-k

@callsign-viper

@senjoritanana

[veritable-trash]

You Know The Rules

look at that stupid slutty mustache... god please answer my prayers just this once

Pairing: Finnegan(Everybody Wants Some!!) x Fem!Reader

Summary: God you hate him.

Word Count: 2K

Rating: M - mainly for drugs babayyyyy, weed, that good, otherwise it's pretty clean in these sheets(this time around)

A/N: haha. no one asked for this. but listen! all my glen powell sloots we need to remember the original. sweet daddy finnegan. mustached, shaggy haired, 80s baseball player i mean i couldn't have written a sluttier man if i tried. this movie isn't the greatest, but the music is dope, the outfits are cute, and it serves as a public service announcement that men need to start wearing crop tops IMMEDIATELY. this is a petition for men to start dressing like sluts again so i can finally be at peace. anyways this is completely and utterly self serving but the glen powell top gun resurgence just kept reminding me that this is peak glen to me. give me mustaches or give me death!

sorry that i haven't written... or literally done anything of value in an eon. my brain has given up and also i moved and am currently unemployed and am about to go travel for three months and want to write but have zero inspiration and tumblr makes me sad because everyone is so good at writing and i am a troll under a bridge. this is me trying to release the need to produce things of "value" because does that even mean anymore? i hope someone finds this a little fun because honestly i kinda did :) hugs and kisses <;33333

tell me what you think! i'm literally begging! on my hands and knees! the desperation is palpable yeesh

masterlist yay yay!!!

~~~~~

College.

What a fucking heinous place. Filled with suffocating expectations, the constant need to pretend you’re someone you’re not because of everyone else’s supposed opinions of you. 

It made you want to vomit. 

And yet here you were, cowering in the corner of the kitchen at this stupid, lame, awful college party. A baseball party no less. Those absolute heathens. Probably the worst category of men on this campus by about 20 miles and you were definitely counting. 

The joint you haphazardly rolled in the absolutely disgusting bathroom crackles between your lips as you try to tune out every single person here and catch the steady baseline of the song playing hoping that that will somehow lull you into a state of calm.

This new weed sucked shit. All stems, all seeds, and got you high for about 30 seconds. You were going to kill Willoughby when you saw him. Honestly the only baseball player in this house you liked and even he was about to get moved right onto the shit list with the rest of the men of this house. 

Your friends had badgered you endlessly all week to ask Willoughby for the invite, not that you really need to even ask him. Girls? More than one? The baseball boys were already salivating like it was their last meal on death row.

The standards in this place were in the fucking basement. 

Some would call you a pessimist. Angry, bitchy, snippy, negative, the whole gambit and they might be right. But college was a fucking weird ass place that made your skin crawl and your anxiety spike and all you wanted to do was smoke your green, pass your classes, and watch your cartoons in peace, please and thank you. 

And then his voice cut through your slow building haze like a serrated knife on a chalkboard. Made of sandpaper.

“Sweetheart! I thought Willoughby mentioned you’d be here, and why am I not surprised you’re toking it up alone in our kitchen, my favorite little stoner weirdo.”

Finnegan.

The absolute ultimate fuck. 

Mustached, wide shoulders, shaggy blonde, crisp baby blues, he was everything your vagina yearned for until he opened his stupid mouth. And of course that was just as pretty as the rest of him too. 

You’d met him for the first time freshman year. Fresh faced and thinking the world was truly your oyster, he’d popped into your life in intro to philosophy and swept you away with his silky, fancy words and the fact that he looked like that. 

He’d invited you to the first baseball party you’d ever gone to and made you a special promise that he would be your knight in shining armor for the night. That he’d be waiting for your arrival, was counting down the minutes till you showed up at his door and he could dance the night away with you.

That was until you saw him sucking face with Tracy. Who was also in your intro to philosophy class. 

Obviously, you’d hated him to his core ever since. 

But for some reason he’d stuck around. Always kept tabs on you, always had a class with you, always found you at any party, bar, disco, literally fucking anywhere and it made you want to tear your hair out. 

He was your pretty boy kryptonite and you needed him to leave you the fuck alone.

“Oh Finny. Finny, Finnegan, fuckhead. You know I thought I’d somehow be able to avoid you tonight but it seems like my stalker persists no matter the obstacles.”

Smoke trickles from between your clenched teeth and he has the audacity to stare at your lips and grin.

Fucking grin!!!

“You wound me princess. Ain’t even gonna share that little pinner of yours, I mean the absolute cruelty of it all.”

The grins still blazing on his lips but in Finn fashion he has to play up his part. 

Clutching at his pearls, leaning against the kitchen counter like you’d just stabbed him straight through. Your eyes roll so far back in your head they almost launch themselves out of your skull. 

“No Finn, I’m not gonna share with the likes of you. Go find Will and get him to roll you one, he’s the one I got the weed from anyways. Or maybe go find some other poor unsuspecting girl to do the deed for you, but you ain’t getting shit from me. You know the rules sweet Finny: ass, cash, or grass and god only knows I ain’t taking any of those three from you.” 

You regret those last few words the second they enter the air between you.

Because Finnegan’s eyes drop straight to your mouth again and now he’s crowding you into the corner of the counter. 

“Oh sweetheart if you just let me show you what this ass can do I think you would be singing quite a different tune. You think I’m all bravado and show but you and I both know the two of us could be quite a duo. I just know you’re absolutely unreal beneath that veneer of hatred you slap on.”

He’s still staring at your lips, the joint hanging limply between them as you try and control your breath and not cough up a lung. 

Two can play this fucking game.

You take a thick drag, the tip burning bright orange and crackling like cinders and his eyes only deepen in shade. The smoke curls out and up into your nose and he stares at you his jaw dropping a little slack as you play him like the fucking fiddle he is. 

“Finn.” Your index finger trails up his arm as you ash the joint in the sink, and you can feel the muscles of his bicep twitch with the contact. “If you think I’m gonna let you touch me you’ve lost your god damn mind. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go find some peace and quiet. Away from you.”

Your voice is sticky sweet and he barely registers that you’re telling him off for the millionth time tonight until you’re traipsing out of the kitchen at lightning speed before you do something else you’ll regret. 

He got too fucking close this time around. You let him get too fucking close. 

Your feet stomp quick up the stairs to the only safe place you’d ever been able to find in this house. 

The roof. That blissful open space, like the crispest breath of fresh air it tasted almost minty. Your hands dig into your pockets looking for your weed, your lighter, and your rolling papers-

Fuck.

Of course you’d forgotten papers, predicable as always and fucking annoying as hell and you’re about to turn back down the stairs when your eyes land on something sitting on the windowsill. 

Finn’s wood pipe. 

You loved to hate it but it was his calling card. Stupid and quirky and so perfectly him that the sight of it made you heart twist just a little. 

Not that you would ever fucking admit that. 

Well beggars can’t be chooser as they say. 

It’s deceptively crisp out on the roof as you shuffle around other groups till you get to your super secret corner on the far side of the house. No one ever seems to want to venture this far and you could smoke in peace and tranquility as the rest of the party raged somewhere far, far away. 

The bowls packed, green just catching a smolder and you have to admit the stupid Sherlock Holmes pipe is kinda fun. Maybe you’d leave a fresh bowl packed for sweet Finn as a secret thank you gift. 

Maybe this weed was stronger than you thought. 

“Alrighty first you don’t share your joint, then you verbally assault me in my own house, and now you’re smoking out of my pipe? You really are trying to start a fight with me this evening now aren’t ya?”

Your eyes are red rimmed and your brain has that pleasant haze coating every synapse and you can’t find it in you anymore to really fight Finn right now. The stars look too damn good and the tree has hit too damn deep to let your hackles rise.

“You know maybe I’ve been giving you a bit of a hard time, but you damn well deserve it.” You smile around the pipe as you take another drag, but this time you pass it to Finn as he sits down just a little closer than usual. 

His fingers snag against yours as you pass it and you both flinch a bit at the contact, sparkles zipping up your arms.

He stays quiet this time around, pulling puffs as you both watch people flit around the grass below you, the party continuing into this seemingly never ending night. 

Friday’s, they really were something.

Your knees knock, fingers catching again as he passes the pipe back to you. Another pull fills your lungs and you lean back, back, back until your back presses down on the cool paneling of the roof and you let the smoke drift up and away among those pretty little stars. 

“Finn you can just be so fucking annoying sometimes, I just wanna shut you up for like five seconds so we can all take a fucking breather.”

He laughs at that. Real and deep, curling around the base of your spine as he turns to stare down at you and the feeling spreads all the way to your fingertips. All the way to your toes.

“I’m well aware, but it’s sorta a part of my charm. I’m just waiting for it to final start charming you.”

Your eyes click to his, haze lifting for a split moment, and his eyes twinkle almost brighter than the stars. 

“That’s such a fucking line and you know that shit doesn’t work on me. Fool me once and all of that jazz.” But you can’t stop staring at him and now his eyes color puzzled, a little hazy as he tries to decipher your words. “Oh come on, freshman year? You invited me to the party with all your fancy little words that you love to spin for me to only find you eating Tracy’s lips straight off her face? Honestly she still talks about that night to this day so I guess in a weird way kudos to you but man that did sting a bit.”

You chuckle around another pull and you go to pass it back but he’s clearly no longer interested in that. He seems very intent on memorizing every detail of your face under the stars and you can’t help but wiggle a little under his hyper focused gaze. 

“I-I didn’t know that you were there that night. McReynolds told me you’d left with some dude and Tracy was more than willing to fill in that blank.”

Oh fuck.

You’re both just staring at each other as moment after moment click like puzzles pieces. Every snippy comment, every lingering glance, every class, every time you just happened to run into each other all no longer strange coincidences and some secret hatred. Every little moment stitching itself together till it left just you and Finn. 

And there’s that fucking grin again.

But it’s softer this time, a little less sleazy and a little more lovely and now you’re sure his eyes are brighter than any star. 

Your own lips tick up with a soft, nervous smile.

His fingers card between yours and he brings your knuckles up to his lips, stupid mustache tickling your skin in ways that make you shiver. 

“I feel like nows the time to return to my earlier question since you finally shared some of that green with me, so what do I owe ya? Ass, cash, or more grass?”

You snort into the air between you and his grin splits into a megawatt smile and you finally let yourself tumble head first into kissing stupid, idiot, fuckhead Finnegan.

“Ass, 100%.”

~~~~~

tell me what you think if anyone is actually reading this because i'm bored and this site is lonely and i just want some weirdo friends who also think mustaches are peak sexiness. alright i need to go to sleep the psychosis is taking over :P

[bakubunny]

Left to my own devices I would ask 1-20 for your final fantasy husband- So please pick the ones the ones you're most drawn to answering for your WoL x Emet-Selch

left to my own devices, i’ll answer all 20 so here we fucking go. this is gonna be based my miqo’te wol xaele, featured in this fic. (she’s just a bratty self insert, let’s be honest.)

nose kisses or forehead kisses?

forehead kisses all the way

neck kisses or thigh kisses?

either would be great any day but neck kisses

heavy, hot, and passionate kisses or soft, sweet, and tender kisses?

you can’t convince me emet-selch doesn’t give soft, sweet, and tender kisses to someone he truly cares about. and my wol loves it.

spooning or one person laying their head on the other’s chest?

he’s okay with either but she prefers to lay her head on his chest.

hugs from behind or hugs from the front?

mostly from behind. he’s always sneaking up on her doing something. 🙄 he’s sweet about it though. usually.

“pancake” or “waffle” hand-holding?

waffle

romantic dinners at fancy restaurants or take out dinners on the couch?

throwing you for a loop: romantic (sometimes fancy) dinners at home. it would be kind of a drag if someone recognized him…. but at an establishment if they can get away with it.

constantly bragging about dating each other or keeping the relationship relatively secretive?

very secretive. again the whole “tried to ‘rejoin’ (destroy) the universe after breeding siring an entire race of people that are known for their cruelty,” bit is an issue.

playing with each others’ hair or giving each other back massages?

playing with each other’s hair.

constantly saying “i love you” or only say “i love you” during really serious/romantic moments?

mostly just during romantic/serious moments. maybe a little more once feelings are in the air.

calling each other by their names, plain and simple, or calling each other really flowery pet names?

it’s emet-selch. i couldn’t imagine him not using flowery pet names. (and yes, his sneered ‘warrior’ is a pet name when he’s cranky.) xaele often uses his ascian title or his true name, however when he’s being demanding, it’s sir or your radiance.

constantly hanging off of each other or keeping a tame distance in public?

people rarely or never see them together.

stay at home dates or out on the town dates?

he’s constantly whisking her away to all the places she’s never been that he would have gone with azem, sharing its history, and telling stories that he’s collected over thousands of years. he’s nostalgic as hell, and it’s adorable when she gets him going on something; she can see the joy it sparks on his face. (we’re ignoring some canon logistics and timeline events; it makes sense in the context of the fic.)

honeymoon at disney world or honeymoon on an island?

i don’t think emet-selch would be caught dead on a beach/island with skin so fair and perfect as his vessel’s. 🙄 he’d burn to a crisp just as quickly as her. but it’s still the most extravagant of honeymoons… because hades has always been a little picky, even as an ancient.

formal/fancy wedding or casual wedding?

see above. 💀 formal, but very private. xaele still tries to talk him out of it because she doesn’t want that.

kids or no kids?

i think we can probably all agree emet-selch has a massive breeding kink. but they don’t want kids.

love at first sight or slow burn?

love at first sight… but more complicated lmao.

cuddle in bed or need their space to sleep?

he loves to cuddle. she needs her space.

gifting love letters/poems or gifting flowers?

emet-selch does both… but his affection for eloquent love letters and poetry happens more often than the other. xaele isn’t great with words or much of a talker (unless she’s talking back to a certain ascian), so flowers would be what she gives.

value anniversaries/important relationship dates or nah?

he does know the exact date of every important moment in their relationship and values it, but he knows that her scattered, sundered brain is much more forgetful than he…. so he makes an effort to plan for anniversaries, etc.

[manicparadox]

I debated posting about this. It’s a hard topic, and a hard week. I’ve decided that I’m going to post this, but I have one ask. If you know me in “real life”, please don’t speak of this to anyone. You can reach out to me, but please do not reach out to any of the parties involved or share it outside of Tumblr. I just need to get it off my chest.

Trigger warnings for death, drug overdose, and grief. Don’t say I didn’t warn you; this is a grim entry.

Monday. I had just gotten home and sat down to eat some dinner. My husband was laid off last month, and the energy around the house is a little low. A lot to process there. The phone rings just as we’re starting to eat. It’s my stepson’s mother. She’s in tears. She says we need to get to stepson’s house, that he needs his father. That her youngest son is dead.

Her youngest son lives with my stepson. We really don’t know what to do with this, but there’s only so many questions you can ask. We tell her we’ll go immediately. We don’t know what has happened. It’s going to take an hour to get there so we drop everything. We text my stepson and his wife. My daughter in law calls moments later, also in tears. She explains that stepson’s brother overdosed.

He lives with my stepson. Which means, my stepson just found his brother dead.

We’re convinced we’re going to sit with them while they wait to take a body away. But we’re an hour out. We call a friend of stepson’s, who can be there in 20 minutes. He drops everything and goes.

We’re halfway there and we’re in shock. Everyone is in shock. That’s when we get a text that the paramedics got a pulse, and they’re transporting to the hospital. We call the friend, and he’s 2 minutes away. We call stepson and tell him to wait, that we’ve sent help. He’s too upset to drive. We tell him to wait, help is almost there.

We reroute to the hospital. In a surreal turn, it’s the hospital a block from the clinic I worked at back in the 90s. As we’re about to turn into the hospital, my husband says, “I think they’re behind us.” I look in the side view mirror and there’s the ambulance, still a ways off. We hurry into the hospital lot, but while we’re looking for parking, the ambulance arrives. It drives right past us.

I can see in the window. I already know. This is bad. This is a worst case scenario. This is about to be the worst night of many people’s lives.

We’re the first ones there. At the front desk, they haven’t checked him in yet. Even when they do, they’re giving very little. We’re not family (although after a point, everyone started writing my husband off as an uncle just to reduce the hassle). My husband sits, but I pace like a caged tiger, checking at the front desk. Is he checked in yet? They finally tell me that we can see him in 8 minutes. I don’t need to see him. I need to be there to make sure that his family can see him. I am pacing.

Finally his grandmother and his other brother arrive, and I’ll never forget their faces. I hug them. And that’s my vigil, now, I wait for people to walk in the door, I take in their grief. I let them know that they have help. I try to take a fraction of their grief. It’s like taking a cup of water out of the ocean. It’s useless. I know it is.

They start letting people back to see E (as I’ll call him). E isn’t in the room; they’ve taken him for a CT scan. My husband stays with E’s grandmother and other brother. I know where the room is now and how to direct people there if needed. I go back to my lobby vigil. My husband and I exchange updates, me from the lobby and him from the room, to take the communication burden off of the family.

E’s parents arrive. His mother wants answers and she’s upset but crisp. She knows her shit.

More arrive. Sister. My stepson and his wife. The other grandparents. Stepsister. Cousins. Only 2 can go back at a time. They let us break some rules because of how grim it is.

I try to get a double drop of Swedish Fish from the vending machine. The trick hasn’t worked in years, modern vending machines are too smart, but I don’t know what else to do with myself.

I move everyone into a corner of the waiting area, to try to coral the grief into a space that’s not spilling into everyone else. I try to be comforting, but the other grandmother hates me and I know it. She lets me hug her anyway. We have news it’s brain damage, but she doesn’t want to know. I’m surrounded by people whose world is shattering. They’re processing at different rates. Some want the specifics. Others need to be alone with their pain. E’s grandfather sits alone.

My daughter in law lets me hug her. My stepson barely lets me, he’s stiff as a board. I already know he thinks it’s his fault. Details slowly start to leak out, a picture that takes hours for me to get my head around. After finding his brother, my stepson administered two doses of Narcan and started CPR. His wife, a nurse, then took over. They’re tired. They’re traumatized. They wish they’d realized sooner, they wish they’d checked on him, they wish they hadn’t just let him sit in his room while they cooked dinner. Wish. Wish. Wish.

My daughter in law looks like she’s curling up on herself, while my stepson sits with his spine too straight. They still haven’t gotten to go back and see him, and that’s unfair, too. They did everything to try to save him, they did everything *right*… just not in time. And that’s not their fault. They’ve seen the worst of everyone, but they haven’t got to see E yet. Finally they send them back and I don’t know if I’m relieved or horrified.

My stepson’s friend is sitting there. I go over and tell him if he needs to get back to his wife and kid, we can take stepson and his wife home. He says, “I’m not going anywhere.” He is resolute. This is why my husband called him; he’s that kind of friend. He stays at stepson’s side. He’s probably more comfort than we are, but also, he’s a lot closer to E. His heart is breaking, too.

There is a man named Alex with a broken arm. He’s been here 5 hours and he’s hungry, and doesn’t have money to get anything out of the vending machine. I’m on my way over to the vending machines and this is a problem I can solve. I take Alex to the vending machine and buy him a sandwich, chips, cookies, and a soda. I try to get some water for the family but the vending machine is shit. I think about just kicking the shit out of it but there’s two cameras. I don’t want to be removed from the hospital for beating up a vending machine for an overpriced bottle of water.

They let everyone go back before they transfer him. We fill the room. E’s grandfather walks up and just turns and leaves, letting out a choked “I can’t.” I stay in the room for a bit, my hand on E’s mother’s shoulder. There’s nothing I can do.

To contextualize, this is my husband’s ex. We haven’t always gotten along. But over the years we all formed respect and eventually friendship. I can’t imagine her hurt, and I don’t think I want to. My hand on her shoulder is the lamest gesture in the world, but it’s all I have. We’re standing around her son on a ventilator. It’s grim, and it’s terrible. It’s heartbreaking but there’s no way to process this, to deal with the sight. I saw E on New Year’s Eve. We played the Trolley Problem game. It was a brutal round and we laughed so hard.

It’s not fair. It’s not right. He’s 26. This isn’t supposed to happen. The wrongness and shock of it fills every corner of the room. His pulse is 205. His blood pressure is something high but I don’t remember. It was a lot of flashing numbers to me, even though I know how to read all of those displays. It’s just a lot.

I leave, not because I can’t stand it, but because some of the family is struggling and I want to go check on them. His other brother just can’t keep looking. He’s stoic but it’s in that contained way. He’s going to explode, at some point. The sister and stepsister are with him outside.

E’s uncle shows up. It’s all over his face. I know that E’s uncle lost a brother a long time ago, too. And I recognize that maybe everyone hoped they’d never have to feel that kind of pain again. I offer to take him aside to update him, because E’s grandmother is not ready to hear what’s happening. I’m trying to spare her. But E’s dad steps in and he’s blunt. He explains there’s no brain activity due to lack of oxygen.

E’s dad’s health is not great, he’s had 2 TIAs. His walking is unsteady. We get him to sit. I’m not certain his health can take the strain of this. Now we’re in double jeopardy.

Finally he’s transferred to neurology. We’re moved to a new area, where we cram in, taking up every chair possible. I leave the seats for the family and I sit on the floor. The doctor explains there’s no brain activity, and answers questions. She pulls aside E’s parents. I know what this is, and I think we should probably go soon. We’ve done what we can. They’re going to let everyone go see him in pairs. We don’t need to go. That space should be for his family. But we do check to see if anyone needs food, if they need us to help. To drive anyone home. We offer to go check on stepson’s dog, and in my mind I’m thinking maybe we can make sure there’s just not anything left of what happened. My stepson says it’s fine, and we can’t make him give us a house key. His friend will drive him home.

There’s nothing left to do. We drive home in shock. E’s mother texts us that it means a lot that we were there.

There’s a thread of hope, but I can’t tell if it’s real or if everyone is pretending for each other’s sake.

For the night, he is stable, but no brain activity. Updates become more sporadic into Tuesday as everyone enters the holding pattern. I take the day off of work, I barely slept. I can’t focus. Anyone who asks me how I’m doing, I know we’re just kind of cracking a little. We want to be there if stepson needs us, but we don’t want to hover at the hospital. We wait at home.

Wednesday they plan for the brain death test, but his temperature drops low. They wait another day. We tell them to not worry about updating us. If it happens, it happens, but the last thing E’s mother needs is to remember to text her ex/father of her oldest child. I ask my stepson how he’s doing. He says “I don’t know how to answer that.” It’s fair. I just want to know that he’s safe, too.

E’s mother gets in a fight with the charge nurse, whereupon she states “I just want to be with my dying son.” The charge nurse shoots back with, “ALL of my patients are dying!” As if it’s about her. As if it’s personal. As if it’s not her job. E’s mother is filing a complaint. Good for her. I hope that nurse had a terrible day. All E’s mother says is “Her whooping started tonight.”

Even this upset, she’s still sharp, and she’s not taking shit. She’s always fought for her family, and here she’s at her most fierce.

Today he stabilized enough that they did the brain death test. 1pm. Everything went silent. I was at work. My manager quietly asks if I’ve heard anything. I say no, they did the brain death test at 1pm. We both know what that means.

If the news was good, my husband and I would have heard.

A couple of hours later, we get the news from E’s mom and from my stepson. They declared death at 1:27pm. It’s a formality at this point, a confirmation that must be done before what’s next.

My stepson asks if we’d like to see him, since there wasn’t much time left before they turned off life support. We decline. Not because we don’t care; we care a lot. More than I can even convey in this format. My husband isn’t sure if he can do it, or if it’s necessary. I want to be there for the family, but E is already gone. My attention is on the living, but at this point, there is nothing, at all, we can do. All I can think is how much trauma this family is going to be in. This is all I’ve thought about for days. I’ve known E his whole life, but this is his *family*.

I go to a friend’s house to eat pizza and crochet. I need a moment.

We get a text from E’s mom, a few hours ago. She says that they removed life support 30 minutes previous. She apologized for the lack of updates, there wasn’t much to say.

She’s right. There’s not. She’s lost her baby, and nothing, ever, will fix the hole in her heart. In all of their hearts.

I’m so sorry, E. And I’m so sorry for your family, who loved you fiercely.

Hug the people that you love.

[violettduchess]

Hi Violettduchess!!!!!!!! Just saw your blog!!!! Wow you're amazing!!!! I really hope you're having a lovely day today!!!

I was wondering if your requests are still open?

If not then please ignore and I'm very sorry!

I was hoping to perhaps request a fanfic of Faust from ikevamp! I've always wanted to request something about him!!!

I saw prompt 20 of the touches ask game which is bandaging/stitching up a wound! And I'd really love to see Faust do that for the reader if that's ok!!!!

But if that's annoying or difficult to do at the moment I completely understand!

And mostly I just wanted to come say hi!!! And say that you're amazing!!!

Hugs!!!

A/N: Thank you for the request @mcofthemansion!! I love Faust but this was my first time writing him! What a treat. I know this prompt usually takes you into fluff territory but this one took a bit of a different direction. I hope you like it anyway! 💜

TW: stitches/ needles

Angst with a dash of spice

Word count: 1518

The last thing you remember is the world upending itself. One minute, you were practically being lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the carriage. Rain was falling as steadily as a heartbeat against the roof. You felt safe and sleepy, a babe in its mother’s womb. 

The next thing you knew the entire carriage exploded with light. The horses pulling the carriage screamed in terror. And you tumbled into blackness.

…

Consciousness returns, insistently tugging at the curtain of darkness in your mind, yanking at it until you feel your eyes flutter open.

“You’re awake.” An accented voice. The smell of disinfectant. Mechanical humming. You try to focus on where any of these things are coming from, but it feels like a train is roaring through your head, its blindingly white headlight filling your vision.

“Nee,” the voice chides sharply and you feel strong hands pressing you back. Apparently you had been lying down. “Do not attempt to sit up. You will only injure yourself further.”

Pain and frustration leave your lips in the form of a heavy groan. You keep your eyes closed for a moment, willing the roaring to subside, the train to stop rumbling, the world to stop wobbling. You feel a large hand reach behind your head, helping you lift yourself slightly. It’s strength gives you a sense of comfort, of stillness. A glass is pressed to your lips.

“Drink.” It is a command, authority deeply embedded in a voice so rich it soothes. You part your lips and do as it says. Cold water fills your mouth and you swallow gratefully. You reach up to take the glass, to drink more of it but it is cruelly moved away.

“No. Enough.”

You attempt opening your eyes again. This time it doesn’t send you reeling. Slowly your eyesight adjusts, the world coming into focus, like when corrective lenses restore the world to faulty eyes. Speaking of eyes…you find yourself staring into a pair as green and sharp as broken pieces of sea glass. A tremor runs through you and you aren’t sure if it's from the accident or that viridian gaze.

“What happened?” Your voice feels sticky in your throat and your head is still pulsing. The man is seated on a stool by your side as you lay on some kind of examination table.  One sweeping glance around the room tells you that you’re in some kind of laboratory. You turn back to him. “Are you a doctor?”

He regards you a moment, then stands without answering. You take in his dark clothing, watch the movement of his broad shoulders as he prepares something at a counter. When he turns, he holds a metal basin with a cutting needle and thread. He moves back to his stool by your side, setting the basin down on the small stand by the head of the examination table.

“You were in a carriage accident.” His voice is smooth like polished brass. “Lightning spooked the horses. Unfortunately they panicked and ran right off the road into a ditch. You’re lucky I found you.” His words are crisp and short, relaying information and nothing else.

The news is too much for your addled mind to take in all at once. “W-what?” You start to push yourself up, panic rising like bile in your throat. The room begins to sway and again, his strong hands catch you, steady you. 

“Lie still. You have a head wound. It is foolish to attempt moving until I have closed it.” His voice is authority laced with displeasure as he again forces you back down. You try to collect your thoughts as he threads his needle.

“What happened to the driver?” The doctor, or at least you assume he is one, leans down, his fingers brushing your hair away from the cut on your forehead. His touch is cool, distant, as if he willed all warmth and comfort out of his hand the moment it made contact with you. 

“Be still,” he snaps as he leans closer. His face is now close enough that you can see just how green his eyes are, forests fringed by guardians of dark lashes. The lines of his face are almost aristocratic, high cheekbones,  sharp chin. He smells faintly of rubbing alcohol and valerian root. You can’t help but wince as the needle begins its work. But his hands are steady and after a moment, the stinging ebbs. In less time than you thought, he is finished. He leans back, placing the needle in the metal basin before reaching down again to hold your hair back and examine his work. His hand on your skin feels cool. An odd sense of relief fills you as his hand lingers, sharp eyes reviewing his stitching.

“Sehr gut,” he mutters more to himself than you. 

“Doctor….?”

“Faust.” 

“Dr. Faust, how is the driver?”

He stands up, movements abrupt and brisk. “He was killed. His neck broken in the fall.”

You inhale sharply. You can still see the driver’s kind smile, his white beard and blue eyes, framed by deep wrinkles as he waited for you outside the concert hall. You had been at one of Mozart’s concerts and the evening had run late. Much to your chagrin, it was then made even later by your being roped into a conversation with a very drunk, very insistent red-headed baroness. The driver had assured Comte he would get you back to the mansion safely before the storm arrived. 

You lower your head, heavy with sorrow, at the idea that the compassionate man with eyes like summer had died alone, in the dark, so suddenly.

Fingers suddenly grasp your chin and force you to look upwards. The doctor is looking down at you, his expression puzzled.

“Why are you crying? Did you know this man?”

A tear slides down your cheek, over Faust’s fingers. He doesn’t move them. If anything they tighten their grasp on you.

“No…I didn’t know him well. But he was a person. And he didn’t deserve to die.”

Faust is watching you, those hemlock eyes of his probing, looking for a way in. Like he would love nothing more than to break you into pieces and examine each one.

“Everyone dies. It’s not a matter of merit.”

You blink, unable to stop the tears. He keeps a hold on your face, forcing you to look at him, forcing you to let him watch you cry. His fingers are now damp with your heartache.

“But to die like that….without family? In the dark? Poor man….he was doing me a favor, staying so late. I…I can’t help but feel responsible.”

If you expect empathy or comfort, you are in the wrong company. What you get instead is a loud scoff from his sculpted lips.

“People rarely die in comfort. And everyone dies alone.” His words are curt, but there is something in them, a heaviness born of personal experience, a weight that pulls on your heart.

“You must have a lot of experience with death.” His eyes flash, the blinding glare of a lighthouse spotlight rotating into your field of vision. His fingertips press into your jaw as if to stabilize himself. More words spill out of you, a haphazard attempt at course-correcting.  “I mean, with you being a doctor and everything.”

Faust runs his poison-ivy gaze over you and you burn as if touching the real thing. His hand is still holding your face when he leans down, his face now very close to yours. His fingers loosen their grip, become cloying and gentle as they trace over the line of your jaw. They skim the planes of your cheeks, still damp with grief, until they finally reach the corner of your eyes. His thumbs wipe away the tears on the verge of falling. One hand tilts, cupping your face, holding it in his palm. The other travels back down, thumb boldly running over the curve of your lips. Your breath is a wisp, small and light, fluttering inside your chest. You hold it inside, afraid if you move, he’ll stop. Afraid of what will happen if he doesn’t.

“You must taste divine,” he murmurs. 

At his words, you instinctively jerk away and the moment breaks like cobwebs in a strong wind. His hands leave your face and he steps back, his mask of indifference briskly back in place.

“Another carriage is waiting outside to return you home. The storm has passed and your injury is mended.” He walks away from you, back turned, busying himself in front of several vials and glass tubing.

You push yourself off the examination table, your emotions a swinging pendulum between never wanting to see him again and inexplicably wishing you could stay.

“Good night, Dr. Faust. And thank you.” When he doesn’t turn around or answer, you collect your things and make your way to the door. 

What you don’t see is the way he turns, his green-eyed gaze following you as you leave, then lingering on the closed door for a long, long time after you’re gone.

*

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelier-maroron @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks

@redheadkittys

[pollyna]

I'm really sorry okay :)

During the summer of his sixteenth birthday, Ice teaches him how to drive a car. During the first lesson, Mav and Slider sit in the backseat, but three miles down the road, Ice kicks them out and leaves them in the middle of nowhere because kids have better behavior than you two. 

It's the same summer Mav and him fix the Bronco, and Slider finds the perfect blue to repaint it.

In September, Bradley drives them to the airport, his driver's license proudly displayed in his wallet and tissues strewn about because seeing his father and uncle deployed still makes him cry a little, even after all these years.

Ice hugs him against his chest and Bradley wants to never let him go because summer was too short and he promised to let Bradley take them to his favourite spot after he passed his test. We're going to get there, okay baby goose? he asks, before kissing him on the forehead once I'm back, whether it's winter or summer. Okay, dad, okay he answers, already half engulfed in his uncle's arms.

By the time Ice and Slider are back, a year and a half has almost gone by, Bradley is studying to pass with a straight A to go to Annapolis, and then he's out of the door and out of their lives because of a promise Maverick won't talk about.

It takes time. Fifteen years and most mornings, Bradley wakes up in his bed and his first thought is he betrayed me. He's working on all that anger with his therapist, but sometimes, less and less every day, it is still difficult and leaves him without energy. When he walks out, his car is particularly blue, that's all thanks to Uncle Ron, his secret supplier, and four hours of work. Bradley can feel in his bones that today is a good day to go back. Not alone. Not this time.

He texts Mav first; he doesn't know if he could have the strength to ask over the phone, and his un-his pops answers He would have loved that. I have a hop in 20 minutes, so take your time.

The road is almost deserted, and the parking lot is occupied by a single lonely yellow car that Bradley vaguely recalls being there the last time they passed by. He was fourteen and eager to show off his new swim truck to every pretty girl and boy around the shore. All his uncles were around that day, with too much food, too many things to say, and not enough sunscreen to spare everybody from sunburn. Bradley can see all of them moving around clear as day, half of them without a swim truck because Good god Mav, you could have told us it was for swimming! Half of his uncles are no longer alive, and the other half are out of reach. That's something else that leaves him on the verge of panic.

When he sits down, his dad is to his left, the sun is already high in the sky, and the wind crisps the water. See, dad? We made it. It took us maybe a little too much, but I finally drove us here. He could see his dad, just like he could see his uncles moving around, young and healthy as he was the last time he saw him on a carrier, six years prior, when he had run away because who gives a fuck about Admiral Kazansky and his fucking speech? He can see him smiling and patting his head like he used to do after Bradley told him he was too grown up for kisses on his cheeks and ruffling his hair. He can see him talking and he can hear him telling him all the ways Mav tells him how they found that place, almost thirty and drunk as hell after their second mission together. He can feel it too, against his back, his dad's arm hugging him and murmuring I'm so proud of you, kid. 

(That's what he wrote to him, after he was called a Top Gun for the first time.)

But for how much Bradley can see and feel and hear, sitting on that shore, it's just him, an urn, and all the things he's never got the time to say. Ah, dad, he murmurs, I'm so fucking sorry, I don't even know where to start, but the start is a good place, right? Yeah, yeah, okay.

[ceruleanmusings]

TyHil Love Countdown: Winter

Two updates in a row! It's a record! Only TyHil would give me enough motivation to write this much in two days. Here's the next one, Winter: Yellow Camellia. Enjoy! Can also be found on FFN and AO3.

---

Tyson lowered his skyward gaze and turned at the initial crunch of snow beneath Hilary’s feet on her approach. A light, crisp wind blew his bangs around his face; it bit his cheeks and left red stains behind. Her fingers curled into her palm in the pockets of her coat as she approached. His eyes remained on her, though his lips briefly pressed into a line and a puff of air curled and coiled once it escaped his mouth. She stopped in front of him, the toes of her boots just an inch away from the toes of his sneakers. Glitter dotted his eyes, mirroring the stars scattered across the inky sky above where the moon hung low, a yellow camellia floating in a still black sea.

Her fingers twitched and she wiggled her toes in her boots and she swallowed down the pressure rising in her throat, ready to send her falling to pieces. This wasn’t about her, no matter how thrown she felt.

Heat pulled from her hand when she removed it from the confines of her pocket, yet when her fingers brushed against his cheek, just beneath his eye, catching the glitter lining his bottom lid, the warmth of his skin seeped into hers, filling her from her toes all the way up to her head. Trapped in the ring around her neck from the thick scarf she’d been gifted not too long before, it sunk in like a hug.

“I’m sorry.” So many things she could have said and yet, in the end, it all became condensed, wrapped down to the two pretty words.

Air puffed in front of Tyson’s face again when his body forced it out, a humorless laugh. Sniffing, he brushed a hand up against his nose and wrapped his fingers around hers, holding her hand up to his cheek. “I knew it was going to happen,” he stated. His eyes dropped down and he dug the tip of his shoe into the snow, building a little mountain in the space between their feet. “I’m used to it.”

“Still.” That didn’t make it any better.

She didn’t have to say the words aloud. He let out a grunt, as if he pulled them straight from her mind. He removed her hand from his cheek and held it down to his side, squeezing. Checking she was still there, still standing in front of him. As if she’d be anywhere else.

“I didn’t bother thinking they’d actually show, so it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, Tyson.”

“Yeah it is. I got all I need right here.” His eyes briefly slid past her face, to the dojo looming behind them with light leaking out the windows, crawling and stretching against the fresh snow, and back to her face. The crease in his brows smoothed out and the edges to his face softened and her breath leaked out her all at once, a crystalline waterfall spilling downwards over her lips and pooled at their feet.

“And only last year you were dreaming of swimming in a pile of gifts.” She let out a quiet giggle. “I think I even saw you doing snow angels on the floor.”

His mouth lifted half-heartedly on one side. “Yeah, well, things can change in a year.”

He didn’t need to tell her that. She replayed the top of the year to the end in a loop every time Christmas came around, like a highlight reel of her past. Where she could be better, do better, how she could approach the future with clearer, fresh eyes. They did say hindsight was 20/20, and turning back, someone may as well have held a magnifying glass up to her face as she poured over every inch of the past year. Not just on the events, but on her feelings, and the dots connecting one day to another which led her here, with Tyson, out in the snow, facing a year ending. Facing the blank pages of an unknown future.

“All that stuff doesn’t really matter anymore,” he continued.

Her ruby eyes widened in false surprise. “Oh, so then I suppose you don’t want your gift. In that case…”

“Hey, I never said that.” Tyson’s grip on her hand stopped her from turning away from him, their arms extending, yet holding tight like a thick wire. Or a taught string. “

She knew he’d seen the flat shape in her free hand when she approached but he never let on. She’d had his undivided attention, like she seemed to have as of late, and she was pleased. Though that was an easy word for the tempestuous churning within her. A strange collision of stillness and tumult, peace and excitement, safety and exhilaration. Trying to put a name to what she felt, how she’d been feeling, what had been simmering below for who knows how long, was too easy. Because nothing with Tyson came easy. She didn’t want it that way either. Putting a name to it made it all seem simple and what she felt certainly was anything but simple and was anything that could be condensed down to one bite-size word anyone could digest. But they weren’t just anyone.

That’s how she knew what to gift him the minute the air turned cold and the lights came out around town. She didn’t have to think about it, it was obvious. It was right. And it took some time to work out the logistics, it took even more time to dodge Tyson’s questioning about it as the semester ended. She remained coy as she threw him off her scent and denied him any hints or guesses about what it could be. She didn’t want him to guess. She wanted…this. This moment. Them together, with his gift.

She shoved her hands back into her pocket, heart sinking at the lack of warmth as the same fingers once holding onto her dug into the solid red wrapping paper, not too far off from the deep red of his favorite jacket. Her teeth pulled in her lower lip and she fought the urge to scold him when he allowed the tatters of the paper to litter the yard. (Habits die hard).

Heart beating a rapid staccato against her ribs, she kept her eyes on his face, memorized the swift shifts as expectation switched to anticipation to calculation to…

She didn’t see the last one.

Her world shifted, a smear of red, blue, and yellow wiping away to the inky blue above and a burst of white when her breath squeezed out her all at once beneath the force of Tyson’s hug. Her bones creaked and she took a step back, taking the whole of him against her to keep them from toppling over. It hit her, a brick to the ribs all at once: his fingers digging into her jacket, his tight, warm hold around her, his face buried against her neck, his heavy breaths against her flushed skin.

“Thank you.” His lips brushed against her skin, lightly, but enough for a shiver to roll down her spine, one she certainly couldn’t attribute to the cold. She didn’t feel the cold, it didn’t exist against Tyson’s warmth. She bounced up on her tiptoes and hugged him back, lowering her chin, burying her face into his chest and he, if possible, held on tighter.

You’re welcome.

You’re welcome, you’re welcome, you’re welcome. The two words repeated in her mind and, the faster they moved, the more they warped and shifted until three words remained in their place and flashed like a neon sign.

She turned away from its blinding glare, forcing herself to untangle from him, eyes casting down to the abandoned frame in the snow, displaying the picture of a younger Tyson curled up in his mother’s lap with an older Hiro leaning into his mother’s side while she smiled down at them both. It came naturally, her being ready to chastise him or call attention to the potential of water ruining the restored photograph (and do you know how long it took Ms. Kincaid to finish?), and all fight left her when he dropped his strong grip to her waist, pulled her against him once more, and let her unspoken words die against their lips.

Her whole body sighed. Like the slow release of a pressure valve, her once tense body eased and relaxed and melted against Tyson and it was her turn for her fingers to dig into the front of his shirt, holding him in place, holding him against her, allowing her to be swept up in his kiss. The thuds of their combined heartbeats pounded in her ears and thrummed deep in her bones. Warmth blossomed in her chest as she leaned into the kiss, Tyson’s lips impossibly soft against her own, molding against hers as if they were made just for her, made for her to be the only one to kiss.

She gasped for air when they finally parted, gasped at reality crashing on her. Did that really happen? Did he really pull her over the line she’d refused to toe, refused to let her even think she deserved to step over? Ruby eyes met storm gray and a Tyson smile, so wide and sincere, beamed across his face, drawing her to him once again. She slid her hands up his front, around his neck, and up into his hair, rising once more as she pulled him down to meet him halfway.

The noise he made at her fingertips rubbing against his scalp threw a heavy blush onto her cheeks and she hid her smile behind her sleeve as she brought her hands up to her mouth. The gobsmacked expression on her face allowed a soft giggle to slip out between her fingers.

“Geeze, Hils,” was all he could muster.

“Yeah, well…” She cleared her throat. She’d take that as a compliment. “Um…we should probably head back. Before the others worry.”

Tyson snorted, looking over her head. “Too late.”

Humming, she whirled around only to let out a small shriek when her hazy vision pulled into focus all their friends with their faces pressed against the window, looking at them. Groaning, she turned and buried her face in Tyson’s chest again, his laughter rumbling in his chest and against her forehead. “Kill me.”

“After that?” He brushed his nose against hers. “Not a chance.”

[dailyreverie]

The hike

A/N: This one is for the amazing @aellynera for the Oscar Isaac Holiday fic exchange! 🎄 For your secret Santa gift here we have two idiots in love which you said to be one of your favorite tropes 💞 I really hope you like it! I'm sending you big hugs, and I hope you have a very Merry Christmas!

This is also for day #20 of the December writing challenge ☃️

Day 20 - Hiking || Rough ground, crisp morning air, and sunrises.

☃️ December Writing Challenge! 🎄

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x reader

Word Count: 1k words

It didn't make sense for the weather being this cold and Santiago feeling so warm. He knew it was cold, there was no question on it, the tip of his nose was cold and his fingers felt like ice, yet his body was not shivering and he didn't feel like snow.

"Who's the slow one now, Fish?" Your voice chipped in his ears with a teasing tone, walking quickly up to Santi in between all the pines that stood tall. Your giggling pulled a string from his heart and a smile teased his lips, it did it every time without missing; you took away the cold, that is why he kept you close, even if he didn't see it.

Santi turned to look at you at the same time you turned to him, not missing a step against the dry leaves under your feet. "Is he already tired?"

"I'm guessing he's just cold." You replied with a laugh. Winter mornings didn't seem to trouble you, Santi could sense it in your happy steps. The early morning sun was not even entirely up yet, the crisp air made your nose match his in redness and you rubbed your palms together; besides all that, your smile remained unbothered.

There was something about the forest during December that pulled you both to it. Yes, the forest, that's what you were both pulled into, not the excuse of being close. Maybe the quiet or the calm, maybe the lack of the holiday dash. You were there every year, walking through the mountains every weekend until the last day before Christmas.

With you walking by Santiago's side, the closeness of your presence made his lungs let out a sigh. It was so unlike Santiago to feel intimidated like this. He's the one who goes for it, the one who takes risks, but it was different with you. With you, he couldn't gamble it; he couldn't take the chance of losing so much, he couldn't take the chance of losing you.

Fish was tired of your games, and so was Will. "Are they that dumb?" The latter one whispered, rolling his eyes at both your laughs and shy gazes a few feet away from him.

"I give it 'til New Year's. They'll be together by then." Fish added with a scoff. "Or I'll push them together myself."

Santi heard it all since his friends' attempts at being discreet are long gone - which makes you wonder: how good at the battlefield were they? - Still, Santiago wanted to believe that you didn't hear, that maybe your focus was still on the crest of the trees above you, that the color on your cheeks was due to the cold. Your expression didn't change, not even one bit, that's what gives away that the boys' words didn't reach you.

What Santi didn't know, though, is that your discretion is way better than the boys'.

Santiago's hand reached for yours after somewhat of a difficult step, an obstacle on the road that could need an extra pull up. Your hand found its place there, in his warm palm that sheltered yours from the cold.

"You are very cozy, you know?" It is a genuine comment, one that comes naturally after feeling the contrast of his hand against the chill that surrounded you.

"I've been told I'm warm." Santi just chuckled, feeling both of your hands grab his before wrapping around his arm.

"It's not warm, it's more like... I don't know..." Your eyes were shining when you looked in yourself for the perfect word. How to describe Santiago Garcia when he meant everything to you and he had no clue? "...like a blanket, or like a chimney."

"So, hot?" You swatted his chest lightly, avoiding his gaze to stop him from seeing how flushed your cheeks were getting. He laughed at his own joke, too, successful at his attempt of teasing you.

You reached the top of the hill like that, with your hand around his arm and close to each other's side. The sun is finally up then, casting its rays on your skin and giving you the natural heat you much needed. Closing your eyes you let the sun in, taking a deep breath with a smile.

The truth is, it was you who made Santi feel warm. As he looked at you, breathing in the sun and smelling like the pines that were all around you, there was no doubt that it was you. Like a forest during winter when the sun begins to warm it up, that's how you made him feel.

"Well, I guess it is officially Christmas Eve now," Benny spoke, the tradition getting its official statement. He patted his brother's and Frankie's back, just them two, not wanting to intrude on Santi and you.

You turned to look at Santi just to find him already looking at you, an easy smile and his skin glowing from the sun. "Merry Christmas Eve." You told him softly.

Santi looked at you like he had never before, a shine in his eyes that made the grasp around his arm close tighter. His arm slipped away for it either way just to hug around your waist. Santi pulled you to him, embracing you closer after a quick kiss on the top of your head.

You stayed there for a couple of minutes, absorbing the heat of the sun in silence, with only the murmurs of the rest of the boys breaking the atmosphere of the quiet forest.

"So..." You spoke first, turning your head up to look at Santiago. From the way you were looking at him, the color of your cheeks couldn't be blamed on the cold. "...Are we waiting until New Year's day then?"

Santi smiled like a child on Christmas morning. Of course he wasn't waiting, he couldn't wait a day longer.

Thanks for reading! Reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

[sunfish-studies]

Cogs

✄・・・ Feathery Ink [Karasuno Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Karasuno x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: none

➜ Notes: This is a separate series from Crisp Leaves. Similar to Crisp Leaves, manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall. This is just my appreciation towards tall girls, you guys are amazing.

Previous:  ‹ VS Umbrella › | Next:  ‹ Celebration ›

↷ SUMMARY ↶

Last day of summer training camp is here!

For the first time, you’re kind of reluctant rising from the warm and comfortable futon you slept on. However, once you’re mind began to work and realizing yourself that you’re still in the training camp, you jolted awake almost instantly–removing the blanket and began tidying up.

Gathering your facewash and toothbrush to freshen up, you found yourself yawning in between–it’s not just you fortunately, because Yachi did the same.

“I’m sure you’re pretty tired, Hitoka-chan, [Name]-chan,” Shimizu giggled at both of you. “Are you two okay?”

“Yes! We’re sorry!” Yachi was quick to apologize for the both of you.

“Today’s the last day, so let’s do our best.”

“Right!” this time, you’re the one who answered her.

Yachi said she was going on ahead, and that left you still tidying up–you’re thinking of just packed everything because in the evening, you’re already be on your way back to Miyagi. That and Takeda-sensei informed the managers about something so you would have no time to pack freely. After you finished everything, you finally could freshen up and start the day.

Descending downstairs towards the women’s bathroom, you bumped into Kageyama who went to fetch on something he left behind.

“Oh, Kageyama-kun, morning.” You greeted.

“Morning, [Name]-san.” He replied with a nod.

“You seemed energetic, weren’t you practicing with Hitoka-chan the night before?”

“Oh, about that,” you could see the excitement glittering from his eyes, he definitely had good news to present because for the past few days the boy was frustrated. “The tosses finally worked. Coach Ukai gave me some directions and it worked.”

“Really? That’s great!” the excitement was infectious, alright. You knew Kageyama had been working extremely hard to make it successful and after days of failure, he finally nailed it–you were incredibly happy for him. “I can’t wait to see it!”

“If that dumbass could keep up that is,” the raven-haired boy them grumbled underneath his breath.

“Don’t worry, Shoyo-kun changed,” you assured him. “Him, you, and the whole team too. Even Tsukishima-kun. That’s why I can’t wait to see this new Karasuno and the new quick.”

“We will make that quick happen,” Kageyama stated without hesitation. “Because we want to go to the nationals.”

You smiled at him. “I have no doubt.”

.

.

“Uhm, not to be offensive, but,” you found your shoulders shook violently from you tried your best to withstand the urge to burst out laughing and rolling on the floor–it practically costed you your whole will to hold it. “Why are you drooling, Kageyama-kun?”

Yachi watched from the sidelines–you approached Kageyama to gave him his water bottle and from whatever you’re talking about with him, he seemed to be extremely embarrassed. Then the raved-haired boy proceeded to lean closer and whispered something beside your ear–which made Yachi squeaked.

“[Name]-chan and Kageyama-kun is quite close these days, right?” Shimizu suddenly said.

“Yes,” Yachi answered almost immediately. “[Name]-chan said Kageyama-kun asked for her advices and Kageyama-kun usually walked her home after club when it’s too dark.”

“Do you think something else happened between them?” Yachi couldn’t help but feeling fire engulfed her face instantly from Shimizu’s (not-serious) speculation.

“WHA-NO-HEEE!?”

“I’m just kidding, Hitoka-chan!” still, Shimizu pretty much enjoyed the extremely flustered girl’s reaction. “Oh, [Name]-chan, what did you talk about with Kageyama-kun?”

After distributing half of the water bottles, you jogged back to where Yachi and Shimizu stood. You tilted your head before snickering underneath your breath and answered. “He asked something about barbeque this afternoon.”

“How did he know!?” Yachi yelped because mainly the info was shared only between the coaches, who arranged the whole thing, and the managers, who’s in charge to prepare all the ingredients.

“Sawamura probably accidently eavesdropping the coach,” Shimizu pointed out, smiling. “By the way, Hitoka-chan shouldn’t you give the other half away?”

“I-I’M SORRY!!”

.

.

Final match for Karasuno was against Fukurodani–even from all the losses, the boys were still in high-spirits thanks to Sawamura’s short speech. You knew they wouldn’t be disappointed even though they loss so many matches because now they earned several new weapons for the preliminaries.

Through the match, you understood how Fukurodani is called a powerhouse–the players are skilled and knew the opportunities to score even when their receives a bit off. That and Akaashi truly lived up to his name as a setter in the line-up. Also, Bokuto’s insane angle of spikes were sights to see every time.

“That’s an insane cut shot,” Sugawara commented which made Yachi looked at him questioningly, thankfully Shimizu was ready with an explanation.

“Hitting at a sharp angle against three blockers is really tricky. It can be hard on your shoulders if they’re not flexible, too.”

“[Name]-chan, [Name]-chan! Did you see that!? Did you see my awesome cut shot!?” Bokuto called out way from the other side of the court, looking at you expectantly after he pulled-off the move. You glanced towards Sawamura in search of his approval to reply to the excited owl-captain, to which he nodded.

“I saw it!” You replied with a smile. “It’s amazing, Bokuto-san! Do you think you could hit like that again?”

“ANYTHING FOR [NAME]-CHAN!!”

You almost laughed at Akaashi’s look of disapproval, both at you and the owl captain and clearly sent the ‘don’t encourage him’ message to you indirectly. Surely, today’s match was filled with many surprises–Hinata’s feint attack, Kageyama’s unexpected dump, and even the one you’ve been waiting for; Hinata and Kageyama’s new quick. Both you and Yachi instantly screamed in pure glee–hugging each other in excitement.

“You did it! You did it!” Yachi even cheered and jumping. “Nice kill, Hinata! Kageyama-kun!”

“Nice toss, Kageyama-kun! Nice kill, Shoyo-kun! You two are amazing!” You added, grinning widely–the two have been practicing hard for three weeks, and those three weeks of cold-shoulder towards each other too. It was putting quite a strain but now, the two were finally back in action.

The two thrusted their fists to you and Yachi in reply–you two were probably the happiest ever currently.

And the excitement only lasts for a few minutes because they nailed it one time, but not so for another. Probably just luck, still it’s happiness though–they needed to practice more, however it wouldn’t be a problem for the two.

This also could be count as Karasuno’s lucky day–Nishinoya and Azumane’s back attack pulled off perfectly although it’s still out. The libero, of course, was very much frustrated. The synchro-attack worked and you swore Tanaka was crying out of happiness and relief because he could score comfortably.

“Tanaka-san, nice kill!” you cheered, which made him perked up and then laughing in victory.

“Thanks, [Name]-chan!”

From all the matches you’ve watched, Karasuno clearly made a difference in this one–they’re in their top shape. When the score reached 18 for either team, a technical timeout was commenced. Both you and Yachi immediately worked on distributing water bottles and towels.

“Good work, Tanaka-san, Nishinoya-san!” you said, handing them their water bottles.

“Ryu!” Nishinoya suddenly gripped his chest tightly. “Our manager just praises us!”

“I’m feeling blessed, Noya-san!” Tanaka replied, mimicking the libero–and here you thought the heat maybe started getting into them. You panicked for absolutely no reason and then decided to excuse yourself.

“Good work today, Tsukishima-kun,” Tsukishima nodded and muttered a thank you in reply, taking the water bottle from your hand.

“…Is there a way to make your finger stays in place while doing one-touch?” now you’re surprised because he made an attempt to ask first, however you didn’t let it show because you knew how it would piss him off.

“You could tape it to made it stiff enough to receive one-touch,” you suggested in the end. The taller boy hummed in reply before giving you the water bottle back so he could return to the match.

The next match wasn’t going well–for the other team that is. You noticed how Bokuto seemed to be agitated and rash with his moves–he almost hit his teammate with his serve, demanding tosses from Akaashi, and finally, third time’s the charm, when he failed scoring from hitting the net instead. Another score for Karasuno, who managed to turn the match to their favor for the leading score of 20.

“W-was that a block?” Yachi questioned.

“No…” Shimizu replied, rather taken aback by the event. “It didn’t seem to make it over the net, so it was spike miss,”

“Bokuto-san, I mean #4’s movement is also unnatural,” you commented, making the two managers turned to look at you. “He’s been rushing things and has been on the edge ever since the time-out.”

“Now that you’re talking about it…” Shimizu nodded in agreement.

“Akaashi, don’t toss to me anymore!” Bokuto exclaimed, which sounded extremely out of place in the middle of a volley match. Sure, it not only confuses you but your whole team even Coach Ukai and Takeda-sensei.

“Do you know about this, [Name]-chan?” Yachi asked and you shook your head immediately.

“No, this is the first time I’ve seen Bokuto-san acts like that,” you answered. “And it looks like the team’s already used to this.”

True to your words, the team played like usual as if nothing happened–Bokuto only stared and follow the ball dazedly while the other working to attack and defend. What’s more amazing, with the lack of Bokuto’s participating they’re just as strong–something you would expect from a powerhouse school.

It caught your team off guard for a bit, however on the other hand, Tsukishima also wasn’t fazed a bit–could be seen from how he managed to shut out an incoming spike from #7. If Karasuno scored another, it would be deuce and a chance to turn the tables.

“Nice block, Tsukishima-kun!” you exclaimed, earning a glance and nod from the said boy.

When Asahi went for a usual serve rather than jump-serve, you understood he didn’t want to mess up their chance at winning. Fukurodani’s libero received in cleanly and Akaashi immediately went for a high-toss. Noticing how Tsukishima rushed towards the left, you knew your team lowered their guard.

“The left! Don’t let it open!” you yelled almost instinctively. Yachi’s soul jumped out of her body from your sudden loud voice, even Coach Ukai and Takeda-sensei was taken aback for a few seconds. Bokuto blew the blocker away because they’re only 1.5 block, it’s not even enough to had a one-touch. He killed it with a straight shot down the court and Fukurodani won with two points leading.

Disappointment flared in your team–from the ones on the court, the ones watching from the sidelines, even Takeda-sensei. Coach Ukai could only sigh, Shimizu resumed with her notes, and Yachi felt her shoulders slumped. You smiled bitterly at the turn out events.

“Whoo! Ace!”

“You’re so cool!”

“Nothing beats the ace in the end!”

Fukurodani’s team members started throwing compliments and it made you blinked in confusion–moreover, Kaori and Yukie even jumped in to join.

“Birds of prey!”

“Your hair’s like a great-horned owl!”

Was that supposed to be a compliment…?

“Otohaku-san…!” the call was in a form of a hissed whisper and unexpectedly came from Akaashi himself. The message he sent to you was clear, ‘please, help us this time’–you replied indirectly with pointing to yourself with a look of disbelief present on your face.

‘Me!? What should I say!?’

‘Anything. Just praise him.’

Probably taking a bit pity for the setter, Sawamura nodded to your direction and gave you a smile of reassurance. You wanted to cry from how compassionate he’s being–bless his beautiful soul. That and the look of doneness and a little pleading from Fukurodani’s team was extremely hard to reject.

“Y-You’re amazing! Nothing less from top ace of Japan!” You wanted to slap yourself from the poor excuse of praise. Thankfully it seemed to work magic because Bokuto was instantly revived back to his cheerful and boisterous persona.

“I’m the best afterall!!” he cheered, laughing in victory. “Hey, hey, hey!”

Meanwhile, Akaashi took his sweet time to get off the court to fetch his drink and towel. Although, he did give you slight a bow of gratefulness. In the end, it’s losses all the way for Karasuno, however they acquired several weapons to fight on the national court–it’s not overall a loss because they also gained something new in exchange.

“[Name]-chan! I’m the best, right!?”

“You sure are, Bokuto-san.”

“Stop bothering Otohaku-san, Bokuto-san.”

[ericssmile]

burnt brownies || felix.l

pairing: Lee Felix x reader

warnings: uhh... almost burning the house down? And maybe some swearing? Idk; this was also kind of rushed hence why the ending is shit

genre: fluff... just a giant amount of fluff.

author: @ericssmile

word count: 2.5k

A/N: I had something else written like... halfway through this bUT GOOGLE FUCKING DOCS CRASHED AND NEVER SAVED THE DAMN THING! So if its shit and doesn't make sense... thats why. Also HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY FELIX!!

༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞

“Dude I don’t think these measurements are right..” Chris turns to you with concern on his face, nervous laughter passing though his lips.

You laugh quietly and walk over to him. You noticed the big silver bowl that's usually used by Stray Kid’s resident baker, Felix -your boyfriend- filled with what's supposed to be a brownie batter. But in all honesty, it just looks like someone who’s lactose intolerant had literally spewed from their rear into the bowl. It was so runny.

“Oh my god Chan.” You chuckle, taking the measuring cups out of the elders hand and putting it into the bag of flour. “Whenever something doesn’t look right, if it's too dry, add more liquid. But if it’s too runny, like this batter,” You take your hand out of the flour bag, evening it out onto the cup, making sure it was the right amount and plop it into the bowl. “Just add more dry mixture to it.” You point to the bowl. “Try it now.”

Chan nods his head and starts mixing the brownie batter, a smile on his face as he notices the drastic change. It was no longer a runny mess! “It worked!” Chan exclaimed with excitement. You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction.

Once the mixture had looked smooth enough, you and Chan had placed it into a baking tray, making sure that the baking paper was on properly beforehand. You scraped the bowl of an excess mixture and spread it evenly in the tray. The temptation to lick the spatula of the sweet, delicious mixture was very hard to ignore, but somehow you managed.

It felt weird baking with someone who wasn’t Felix. To you, it was a domestic activity that the two of you enjoyed, making memories and just having fun with it. But, since it was his birthday, you wanted to surprise him by making him his favourite treat. Putting every ounce of love that you had for that precious boy into it. And Chan was there to help of course.

“How long do we put it in the oven for?” Chan asked.

You pursed your lips and scrunched your eyebrows in thought. “I'm pretty sure it's roughly around 20 to 25 minutes.” You watch as Chan set the timer on the oven, hearing a faint ticking sound once done. “We’ll just make sure to keep an eye on it every now and then, just to be sure.” Chan nods.

It was early in the morning, and the day before had been Jisung’s birthday. Every year that Felix and Jisung had known each other, they always headed up to the top of the building and sat and watched the stars, just sharing the moment between one another. And once the clock strikes midnight on the 15th of September, Jisung and Felix hi-five one another and Jisung says “Birthday Pass.” Felix would always talk to you about it. Told you how pretty the stars were.

You always tried to be cheesy with him when he says that. Saying how the stars were pretty, but he was more beautiful than any star in the night sky. He denies it every time, but you promise him that you’re telling nothing but the truth. And it is true. He’s the most beautiful boy that you have ever met. He had eyes that held the entire galaxy in them and sparkled each and every time he talked about something that he had so much passion for; he had a smile that always brightens up the room whenever he walks into it; and his freckles. His freckles that you just love to admire and tell him everyday just how much you love them on him.

“Did you write that letter for him?” The sound of Chan’s voice brought you back to reality. It took you a second to realise what he asked but soon nodded your head at his question.

“Of course I did.” You smile bashfully. “It’s there on the table if you want to read it.” Chan smiles back, but shakes his head at your offer.

“I’m sure Lix will show me after. I want him to read it first.” You nod your head at his response, and soon yawn. Man, who would’ve thought baking could take so much energy out of you.

“Wake me when the brownies are done.”

********

The sound of the smoke alarm going off startled you awake from your power nap, almost falling off of the couch. Your heart was pounding. The kitchen was on the verge of being swarmed in smoke. “Fuck!” You cried out, running into the kitchen and towards the oven. You find the oven mits, opening the oven, your face instantly being met with too much smoke and on the verge of having a coughing fit.. “God dammit Christopher.”

You close the oven door and rip off the oven mits as soon as you place the tray down on the bench. And just as you thought. The brownies were burnt to a crisp. A sad sigh escaped past your lips. The one time you bake with someone else and it all goes to shit. Reminder to self: never bake with Chan. Ever. Again.

The sound of feet stomping filled your ears, hearing it getting louder and louder and then.. It stopped. A gasp came from the foot stomper at the sight of the smoke -that was now clearing away little by little- “The brownies! Y/N I'm sorry! I forgot!” The voice shrieked as he got closer to the now charcoaled brownies and sighed sadly. “I take full responsibility for this.” Chan says, placing his hands on his hips. “I was on my computer doing some stuff and had my headphones on.”

“It’s alright. At least we tried.” You laugh, placing a comforting hand on Chan’s shoulder.

“The hell happened here?” The sound of Felix’s voice caught you by surprise. And here you had hoped to hide the burnt brownies in time. You nervously laugh, running your hand through your hair as you try to come up with an excuse as to why the kitchen smells burnt.

Just as you come up with an excuse, Chan beats you to it. “Y/N and I wanted to surprise you with birthday brownies but uh,” he chuckles “they kinda got burnt.”

“I can see that.” Felix laughs, walking into the kitchen to get a look at the brownies just to see how burnt they were. You watched him closely. And once he got a look at the brownies, his eyes widened in shock. “Jesus, you weren’t kidding.”

“Never again am I baking.” Chan exclaims, holding his hands in the air in a surrendering motion. It was probably for the best that he stays away from anything baking. He’s good at making music. He should stick to that instead.

You sigh and walk up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and pat it in a joking manner. “You should really just stick to your day… or night job-whatever it is, just stick to music.” You bellow out a laugh as he glares at you and playfully brushes your hand off of his shoulder.

“If you’re done bullying me, I’m going to go back and finish doing what I was doing before I let the kitchen almost set on fire.” he huffs, walking out of the kitchen, soon smiling as he wishes Felix a happy birthday. Felix gives him a hug and thanks him, soon turning his full, undivided attention on to you. And the way he's looking at you is giving you all these butterflies, reminding you back when he first asked you out on a date. His smile is as bright as the sun, being the literal definition of sunshine.

He slowly walks towards you with that damn smile on his face, feeling your own smile automatically make its way onto your face. The feeling of him wrapping his arms around your waist makes you feel warm and safe. The feeling of being home.

Wrapping your arms lightly around his neck, you lean up and place a gentle kiss on his cheek where his freckles were. He giggles softly, bringing a finger to your nose and boops you.

“I was hoping to give you brownies for once on your birthday.” You pout as you run your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck. He just smiles and places a gentle kiss on your nose, this thumbs rubbing small circles on your hip; it was his way of saying he appreciated the thought.

“It’s alright beautiful. It’s the thought that counts right?’ He shrugs, fingers poking your side slightly.

You smile and nod your head. And in that moment, it felt like it was just you two. No one else. No one to intervene. Nothing to get in the way. Just you two in each others arms.

You let out a slight gasp, remembering the letter that you had written for him. He was surprised at the sound, and had to reluctantly let you out of his grasp so you could head towards the table where the said letter laid. You picked it up and smiled nervously, heading back to the birthday boy. Once in front of him, you held out your hands towards him, waiting for him to take the letter from your grasp.

He tilts his head to the side like a cute puppy, but smiles as he gladly takes the envelope from your hands. You watched as he looked down at his name, written in fine, black ink in your handwriting that he loved dearly. He traced his finger over each letter gently, embedding how you write his name into his head so he can cherish it forever.

“It’s uh, not much, but i hope you love it.” You had poured your heart out into that letter. Letting out every raw emotion that you felt towards him and how he makes you feel. How much you cherish him.

“If it’s from you, of course I’m going to love it.” He smiles as he makes his way towards the couch with you following behind him. He sat down first with a content sigh. You sat across from him, anxiously waiting for him to open the letter.

He smiles as he turns the envelope over, taking the letter out slowly so that he doesn’t ruin it somehow. Your fingers were playing with the hem of your sweater, teeth nibbling on your lip every now and then, anticipating how Felix will feel after he reads that letter.

He clears his throat as he unfolds the paper and reads:

“To my bright sunshine,

My Felix. My Yongbok. Oh how I am so thankful for this day, as it is the day where we celebrate the life of you. September 15th is my favourite day, all because you were born. I thank God everyday for the fact that he’s brought you into my life. Because without you, it wouldn't be as bright.

I look forward to every morning, waking up to see your usual “Good morning my starlight” text messages. But seeing you in person is even better because i get to stare at your beautiful face all day and admire you up close.

I hope you know how much I love and appreciate you. You always know how to make me smile; my shoulder to cry on when I need to vent; my safe haven. I love that smile of yours that always brightens up every room that you walk into. You are quite literally my own personal sunshine. Always brightening up my days and motivating me to get out and do something, even if it's just for a few minutes or so. I love how much emotion your eyes show; to me they hold the entire galaxy in them. No star in the sky could compare to how beautiful those brown beauties of yours are. You are my everything and I can’t believe I get the chance to call you mine. I love everything about you, from your freckles to your tiny hands,”

“Hey!” he pouts but soon smiles after hearing you giggle.

“I’m sorry! Just keep reading please!”

He shakes his head, and huffs as he continues to read:

“I love how selfless you are; making sure to check in on me and your members. And your brownies. Don’t ever stop making those delicious, gooey treats. Your friends and I, we really do appreciate all that you do for us. When it comes to your down days, all i want to do is cover you in a blanket and cuddle you until you feel better. Seeing you sad and upset makes me sad and upset. Because you deserve all the good in the world Lix. You are one of a kind.

And Stay. Your beautiful fans. They love you so much. I can tell how much you love and appreciate them, just as much as they do for you too. I’m sure they’d be on the same boat as me when I say that no matter what you do or where you go in life, I’m always going to be right there beside you, cheering you on. Cause all I want for you is to be happy.

I love you Felix. And I will love you until the very end.

With love,

Your Starlight.”

You hear him sniffle causing you to move closer to him, bringing your thumb to his cheek and wiping away his tears. He nestles his cheek into your hand, bringing his free one that wasn’t holding onto the letter to hold onto your hand.

For the first few minutes, the two of you had sat in silence. Felix read over the letter every now and again, a soft, adoring smile on his face. God how he loved you. You were absolutely everything to him. To him, you were his guardian angel. Always there for him when he needs you most. He would drop whatever he was doing just to be by your side just like you would for him.

Bringing your hand to his lips, he places a soft kiss along your knuckles. His eyes were closed, but you knew that he was just savoring the moment. “Thank you for your beautiful words.” he whispers, opening his eyes to stare into yours. “I am going to cherish this, just like how I cherish you.” You smile at his words, leaning in to kiss his lips. You could feel him smile into the kiss as he wraps his arms around you, bringing you onto his lap just so that he could hold you close to him. Breaking away from the kiss, you lean your forehead against his, bringing a finger to his nose and booping him just like he did to you earlier.

Sometimes you don’t need extravagant gifts on your birthday. Just having someone that you love dearly is just as much a precious gift as anything. Even if they do almost burn the kitchen down making you a sweet for your birthday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

© ericssmile, 2021; please do not take or repost

[lilith-of-rivia]

The Bards Sister  Geralt XFemale!Reader Part 1

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

Masterlist 

Summary: Geralt of Rivia and his long time travel companion Jaskier find themselves in Jaskiers home land. A place geralt had not only never seen nor heard of. Jaskier is ready to reunite its his family after traveling and exploring the world for 20 years. The one person he missed the most was his baby sister (Y/N). Who he hadnt seen since she was 5. The journal is long, but the pay off is grander then they would ever be able to predict. I know i am trash at summaries.

Trigger warnings: NONE a lot of Geralt and Jaskier in this first part. Your charicter doesn’t come in till closer to the end.

Pairings: GeraltxReader JaskierxSister!reader

Word count: 6,095 longest fanfic I’ve ever written!!

A/N: hello my loves!!! I got my Insperation back!! I’m hopping i will be regularly posting agin!!! I ove you all so much you consistent love and supoort has not gone unnoticed. The constant likes and reblogs truly means the world to me. I love every single one of you so much. Thank you for believing in my writing the way you do. All my love -Lilith ps. I have reviewed and edited but I will be doing a more in-depth review soon!

“Where are we going, Jaskier.” The Witcher’s brooding voice echoed threw the flowered valley. His horse trotted not far behind his companion. Jaskier looked back at him and just rolled his eyes.

“How many times have you led me on endless roads, towards the middle of nowhere speaking little to no words to me no matter how much I ask?” Geralt said nothing. Jaskier snorted looking back towards the road.

“Exactly. No shut up, your brooding is giving me a headache.” The bard was giving the witcher a taste of his own medicine. The idea that Jaskier was leading him to somewhere he had no idea of the location, made him uneasy. Did he trust his bard? Absolutely without a doubt. Would he ever admit it to him? No never.

Their travels continued till the sun was barely hanging in the sky. The air had grown crisp replacing the harsh burning of the full summer sun. Jaskier pulled his mare to the side of the road, climbing off her, tying her to a tree. Geralt followed, realizing they were stopping for the day.

“We still have a couple hours of daylight left.” Geralt said as he took Roach’s saddle and tack off.

“We don't need a couple hours, we are nearly there. Maybe an hour and half.” Geralt cocked an eyebrow at Jaskier.

“Then why did we stop?” Jaskier pulled his saddle bags off his horse, putting them beside a log as he gathered some sticks for the fire.

“Because I have to debrief you as to who we are going to see and you must bathe before we do so. The stream here will do the trick.”

“Gods Jaskier, will you just tell me where we are going? The secrecy is bullshit.” The broot of a man was losing his patience with his friend.

The duo had been on the trip for nearly two weeks. They left Tramieria and headed east. Much further east than Geralt could ever remember traveling. Yet the bard seemed to know exactly what turns to take and when. The closer they drew to their destination the more the witcher could hear his heart beat faster.

“Jaskier if this is some stupid plot for me to protect you from some man who’s wife you slept with again-“

“It's not Geralt-“ Jaskier pinched the bridge of his nose, his stress causing a minor headache. “Just go bathe then I’ll tell you everything.” Geralt studied his friend, his eyes searching his face, his ears tuning into his heart beat trying his best to figure out what he was getting himself into.

With a low grunt the witcher grabbed his last set of clean clothes and the bar of soap from the bard's hand before stomping off to the river.

“Clean EVERYTHING!” Jaskier yelled over his shoulder. Only getting an unfriendly finger in return.

Nearly an hour later, the sun was completely hidden behind the canyon, the glow of the fire Jaskier started illuminating their small camp. Jaskier’s fingers strummed mindlessly at his lute, his eyes fixed on the stars that were making their presence known more, humming to himself softly. He heard his friends footsteps as he approached, his hair was wet at his shoulders. A fresh white Cotton tunic hugged his muscular build, black trousers hugging his legs. He smiled nice for once. All thanks to the lavender and honey soap Jaskier had received as a gift.

“Now don't you look better.” Jaskier said with a chuckle. The witcher sat down across the fire from him, his golden eyes staring heavily at the bard.

“Spill your guts Jaskier.” Jaskier rubbed his hands over his face and nodded. His eyes looking anywhere but at his friend.

“I haven't been completely forward about my family life.” Jaskier’s eyes landed on the moon above them. It was nearly full, he was doing well with time. He knew they would reach their destination well before the next full moon.

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s harsh voice broke the silence. With a loud sigh Jaskier finally looked his friend in the face.

“I’m royalty Geralt.” The Witcher’s expression did not change. He just looked at his friend. He could hear Jaskier's heart beat become uneven and unsteady. At first he thought it was a joke but the nervous energy radiating from his long time friend made him think better.

“My family, they are wonderful people. My mother, bless her, taught me everything I needed to know about writing and music. Convinced my father to let me train at Oxenfurt Academy. My father is a noble and loyal king. He served our people well. Still does to my knowledge. I haven't been back in nearly 20 years…” the bard trailed off, his eyes fixated on his hands, his fingers twildilling with a ring he had on. The ring was that of his family. Their crest engraved into the gold.

“I was never meant to be a noble. I lived for adventure, for more than just sitting on a throne and watching people come and go. I was never fit to be king. My parents knew that. They understood. Understanding people they are.” His voice trailed off again, hopping his friend would say something. Ask a question. Anything. He didn’t know where to go next.

“Why didn't you ever tell me?” Geralt finally asked.

“Because it never came up. My family never needed me. I never needed them. I love them all dearly of course. But we were never the closest people in the world. Well, my sister and I were.” That caught the Witcher’s attention. His eyes narrow slightly, he made sure to not let his expression scare the bard into not telling him more. He was genuinely curious about his family. But he couldn't lie and say he wasn't disappointed that in the 7 years they traveled together he never heard of them.

“You have a sister?” The bard's eyes lit up. His memory raced with images of his tun little sister chasing him around the courtyard screaming, yelling his name. Her giggles and laughs pulling at his heart strings.

“Yes. Her name is (Y/N). She is about to be 25. Big age for a princess. I havnt seen her since she was very little.” His heart started to break softly. His neglect to his baby sitter weighting heavily on him.

“I write her often, as much as I can. She was...well, a surprise to my parents to say the least. I was 15 when she was born. I left home at 20. I was only around for her toddler years. I never got to see her grow, blossom into a young woman. I missed so much.” Jaskier had to fight back the tears, his throat becoming tight and dry. His body filling with regret.

“I just kept pushing it back Geralt. I alwasy said I’d make it home. I alwasy had it in the back of my mind to go back and see her. But I never did.”

“Why now?” Geralt asked.

“She wrote me a few months back. It was nearly a book. It was filled with tales of her new travels around our country. She had been training heavily with an unmanned matester of combat. She traveled the countryside with the man. She referred to him as an uncle. In the letter she asked me if it was true that I’d been traveling with you. She said the songs and tales of Jaskier the Bard traveling with the White Wolf made it to her ears.” Jaskier stopped talking for a brief moment, rummaged around his rut sack and pulled out a notebook. He untied its string and a large pile of papers fell out into his hand. He unfolded the parchment and scanned the writing.

“I wrote her back that week. Only to receive this in return.” He began to read;

“Oh dear Jaskier!! I cannot believe its true. I thought he was only a legend. The white wolf. Please tell him he is a hero here. We love his stories. Many have written books of him. Children run round calling themselves the butcher of Blaviken here to save the damsel and distress. I love his stories, mainly because they involve you. Please come visit me this year. I miss you terribly. I want to hear of your travels with the wolf. Mother said he is more than welcome to stay if he wishes to travel with you. I do miss you Jaskier. More than I think you know. I do not mean to guilt you or make you feel bad as i know you are traveling the world to your heart's content and would never want you to feel as though I do not support you-“ Jaskier stopped reading for a brief moment. A small tear dripped onto the page he was reading. Geralt listened to every word he read. He couldn't help the small tug of his lips when he read about the children pretending to be him. It was a breath of fresh air for the witcher. He had constantly been told he was a monster. To hid your children from him. Yet here was an entire country that loved him, yet he had no idea. Jaskier cleared his throat and continued. “But i miss my brother. And maybe, just maybe. I could come with you. If you deem me fit. I have been working tirelessly with a friend of fathers. He trains me in not only swordsmanship, but Herbology, and monsters as well. I can name nearly every monster that has inhabited the Continent and how to slay it. He thinks I’m ready to leave the nest and I think mother and father are getting a bit tired of me as well. I cannot stand another somber, dull, dinner party with nobles who look at me like a piece of meat. So please. Visit me soon. Come and stay a few days. Catch up with your dear sister and maybe, if he isn't too busy and if it doesn’t inconvenience him, bring the Wolf with you. He’d be a welcomed hero. All my love dear brother. Xoxo Love always, (Y/N) Irene Pankratz

Jaskier folded the letter, placing it inside his notebook before safely storing it inside his sack again. He ran a hand over his face, his eyes slowly moving from his hands to his best friend. They sat in the silence for a while. Geralt’s brain replaying the words he had heard from his friend.

“You could have told me about her Jaskier. Why didn't you? You’ve been in contact with her all this time, planning to see her and your family again. Bringing me along for the ride, yet not a single word in 7 years. Do you not trust me with such a secret Jaskier?” Jaskier was taken aback by his friend's words.

He never knew his secrecy would have such an impact on his friend. When it came to Geralt he learned long ago, the little words, the better. The witcher can only handle so much before he loses interest and stops listening or walks away. He never in a million years would have thought he cared about his life that much. It warmed the bards heart to know his dear friend, the only brother he ever had, cared that deeply for him.

“It has nothing to do with not trusting you Geralt. Is has everything to do with the shame I hold for not seeing her sooner. For treating her like a dirty secret form the world. There is no logical reason for me to keep my family such a big secret. Yet I have. For 20 years.” Geralt’s hands rubbed together softly as he listened to his friend. He understood the secrecy. He was a box full of secrets that nobody could get into.

“Its okay Jaskier. I understand the secrecy. Is that where we are going tomorrow?” Jaskier nodded, a smile appearing on his face.

“Her birthday is the next full moon. I’m hoping my gift will be a good start in time lost.” Geralt looked at him curiously. He hadn't noticed any major item in Jaskier’s possession that could make a good gift for a young princess.

“You’re her gift Geralt. I wrote her back after that letter and told her I’d be back for her next birthday. But that you simply were to busy with your work. I told her that you greatly appreciated her support and that youd consider writing to her in the future. She has no idea your coming with me.” Geralt didnt know how he felt about being a gift. He never ever saw himself as a gift to anyone. More of a burden the a gift. He shook his head at Jaskier and tutted at him.

“Jaskier if your that broke you could’ve asked me for a few extra coins for a real gift.” The witcher attempted to joke with the bard. It made Jaskier smile more. Geralt could be funny, but his humor was incredibly dry, much like Jaskier’s father.

“Geralt! Did you just try and joke around with me??” Geralt rolled his eyes, laying down stretching his muscles as he looked up at the starts.

“Best get some sleep Jaskier, you’ve got a rather big family reunion tomorrow.”

The next morning Jaskier was up and awake before Geralt, a rare sight. He truly hadn't slept more than a couple hours that night. His nerves kept him awake. He feared his sister wouldn’t be as loving as he pictured, she had every right to be mad at him, hate him even. By the time Geralt was up, Jaskier had bathed, changed and had his horse completely ready to go.

Geralt had to do everything in his power to not laugh at his friend. He looked rather ridiculous. His normal bright attire was replaced with a royals outfit. A green and blue velvet tunic and some extremely uncomfortable looking black trousers. His hair was combed back and his face was freshly washed. He even cleaned under his fingernails. He looked rather ridiculous in Geralt’s opinion. He couldn't help the low chuckle that left his lips as he put his bed roll away.

“I don't understand why you're laughing. I have some clothes for you to put on as well.” Geralt’s expression changed instantly, from humorous to angry.

“No. Absolutely not. What I’m wearing is perfectly fine. I’d wear it to meet any king or queen.” A bag was chucked at him, he barely caught it before it smacked into his face.

“This isn't any normal king and queen Geralt. This is my family. And besides, you are no ordinary witcher in my kingdom, you’ll be treated as royalty there. You may as well look the part.” Geralt huffed and threw the bag of clothes back at his friends feet, glaring daggers at him. He hated dressing up with a burning passion. Everything was too tight, not easy to fight in. If anything happened he’d have to rip the seams on every piece of clothing to be able to maneuver his weapons properly. And fancy clothes dont have space for weapons. He didn't like that one bit. Jaskier looked at his friend. His eyes pleading with him.

“Please Geralt. Just for today and her birthday. I couldn't care less what you wear at any other point on this trip.” He had walked closer to Geralt now. About a meter away from him. He extended his hand, the bag in his hand. Geralt looked from the bag to his friend. His teeth and jaw clenched.

He let out a loud huff and grabbed the bag from the bard.

“Fine.” He said through gritted teeth and began taking off his clothing. Jaskier smiled before turning his attention to Roach, getting her stalled and tacked so when Geralt was dressed they could leave.

“If we move with a bit of a haste we could make it there before breakfast.” Jaskier said as he mounted his horse, looking at his friend. His hand slapped over his face. The witcher looked utterly ridiculous in his new attire. The bright red and orange vest a-top a cream tunic, his legs tight in some disgustingly ugly corduroy pants. The pants were obviously smaller than the seamstress he bought them off claimed them to be. The ends of the pants came nearly mid calf on Geralt’s legs. His pasty white ankles and feet shining in the early morning sun.

“Jesus Geralt. Those are worse than the ones I got for Pavetta’s party.” The bard could no longer hold in his laughter. Did Gerarlt look like a nobleman? Sure, but his size, white hair, and bright yellow eyes really didn't help the situation.

“Jaskier, I will kill you for this.” Geralt grumbled angered as he pulled his socks up his feet and over his calves. Luckily for him (and Jaskier) his boots went higher than his pants, making it harder to notice that the pants he was wearing were way too small.

“At least I’m not making you wear a big hat with a feather, those are truly hideous.” Geralt mounted Roach, more carefully then he normally does in fear his pants could bust at the seams.

“I had to wrap you up nice and pretty to present you to my sister.” Jaskier commented as he led his horse; Napoleon to the main road, Geralt and Roach in tow.

The two men rode in a comfortable silence for some time, but as they got closer and closer to Jaskier’s home, all Geralt could hear was his frantic heartbeat. Jaskier’s palms get sweaty and his throat dry, no matter how much water he drinks from his water skin.

“Jaskier. You need to calm down. Your fucking heart beat is driving me insane.” Geralt hissed. They could see the end of the valley they had been traveling in. Geralt looked out in the distance, his eyes saw the castle first. It was very far, but he could tell how beautiful it was from where they were.

“Maybe you just shouldn’t listen to it then.” Jaskier barked back.

“You know I have no control over it, idiot. Take a deep breath. I know you're scared, I understand. But from the sounds of it your sister desperately misses you, I don't think she would ask you to come see her if she was going to hate you.” Geralt didn't talk much at all, that everyone knew. He was a man of few words. But when he did speak it was wiser than most people ever expected. People tended to forget the age of the white haired man, as he stopped ageing physically in his late twenties.

Jaskier smiled softly at his friend's words, he listened to him and took a few deep breaths, calling himself down. Geralt was right. His sister seemed eager as ever to see him again.

The two men approached the entrance to the city. Geralt was more than shocked. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen a city so beautiful in his entire life. The streets were lined in beautiful stone, flowers, vines, greenery all around every corner. The banners that were hanging on the outside of the main gates caught Geralt’s eyes. The crests on them were brightly colored in greens and blues, a very large diamond in the center. Their horses rode into the entrance of the town. Jaskier’s heart was calm, steady, his face was bright and had a smile Geralt had never seen on him before. He was finally home.

“Welcome to Inritha (In-Rithe-A) the capital of Unthya (Un-The-A) Geralt. Welcome to my home.”

Their horses traveled down the stone brick road slowly, the city was buzzing already even with it being the early hours of the morning. Geralt was surprised to see everyone look so...happy, care free. Enjoying their lives. They looked as though nothing was a fret, no monster looming. Geralt was mesmerized by the city. The buildings were built out of what looked to him like limestone, a building material he so rarely saw in other parts of the Continent. The buildings were being taken over by vines and moss, flowers all over. He’d never seen so many butterflies in his life.

“Jaskier-'' his voice was barely a whisper, the bard turning to look at him as they rode side by side. Jaskier couldn't help but smile as his friend admired the beauty he himself had so easily forgotten over the years.

“I know, it's beautiful. I've forgotten myself.”

The two men continued riding their horses up the road closer and closer to the castle. The longer they road tho more attention they got from passer buys. Geralt could hear their whispers.

It couldn't be. Could it?

THE Geralt of Rivia? Here in Inritha?

Mummy look! It's the butcher!!

Has Prince Jaskier finally returned home?

For the first time in what seemed like his entire life, the hushed whispers Geralt heard as he rode through a city were not of hate and disgust. But of admiration and curiosity. The entire time Geralt and Jaskier rode through the city, he never once had the urge to grab either of his swords that were at his side.

The two men approached the gates of the castle, four armored guards stood outside. The put their hand up in motion for the men to stop. One who looked as tho to be the commander of sorts stepped forward poking between both men. Eyes lingering for a long while on the two.

“State your name and what business you have in Inritha at this early hour.” Jaskier dismounted his horse, waking a few feet forward.

“My name is Jaskier Alfred Pankratz son of Dastrill and Alvere Pankratz. This is my companion Geralt Of Rivia, we are here on behalf of my sister, (Y/N) Irene Pankratz’s 25th birthday.” Jaskier bowed his head lowly, keeping eye contact with the commander in front of him.

“Prince Jaskier?!?” The man clearly looked flustered and embarrassed for not recognizing the prince of his own kingdom. All four men quickly bowed their heads.

“Please accept my apology your highness, we welcome you home. As do we welcome your honored guest.” Jaskier smiled and told the men to not trouble themselves with an apology. Geralt continued to watch from atop Roach, still not use to being idolized instead of feared. Honored guest. Geralt thought to himself. He could get use to the new treatment. Jaskier remounted Napoleon the gates to the castle walls opening. The both road threw, all four men bowed their heads as the two walked threw. Not once did they threaten Geralt’s life. They were led by a guard to the stables where they left their horses.

Geralt could hear Jaskier heart beating again in his chest as they were led inside the castle. Geralt tried to concentrate on his friend, to be there for him but he couldn't help but let his eyes wander all over the castle's walls, it was a bright exterior. The walls polished, candles everywhere. Large windows allowing for natural lighting. Nothing dark or gloomy about the castle at all. He felt uplifted..cheary almost. As they neared the entrance to the grand hall where the King, Queen, Princess along with some others were. Geralt could hear the light conversation, and the clicking of silver on plates, they were eating breakfast. But he could still hear Jaskier’s heart beating in his chest. Geralt placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder as they walked, giving it a soft squeeze. The action made Jaskier more worried if the witcher was feeling alright, as it was abnormally out of character for the man. But he said nothing, appreciating the gesture.

They got to the door and just as the guard was about to push the doors open Jaskier grabbed his arm.

“Could we maybe skip the loud over dramatic announcements of my arrival? I have not seen my family in years.” The guard only nodded, bowed his head and walked back outside to his post. Jaskier looked over at his friend, as he put his hand on the door ready to push it open.

“Now or never.” Jaskier said as he opened the door. Both men walked into the large room, the talking stopped almost instantly. Geralt stood at the door, not wanting to impose on the important reunion of his friend and his family. He followed Jaskiers gaze to the table ahead of them in the front of the room. The room was lined with huge floor to ceiling windows, the light of the early morning sun shone brightly making the marble floors glisten.

“JASKIER!!!” The loud scream of a girl nearly made Geralt jump out of his skin, his hand reaching back for a sword that wasn't there in instinct.

It made Jaskier jump but the smile that covered his face was even bigger than the one he had seen as he walked through the city. Geralt followed Jaskier’s gaze to a young woman. The sight of her alone made Geralt want to pass out. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen someone so beautiful in his entire life. Her hair was the same chestnut brown that Jaskier had, but it was long, hip length. She had it pulled back slightly out of her face, a few baby hairs framed her face. Oh her face. Geralt thought as though he was looking at a living breathing angel. He heard her chair scrape roughly on the ground before it loudly crashed on the floor. She raced around the long table from her mothers side and sprinted to her brother. She practically threw herself on him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He quickly wrapped his arms around her, stumbling back a few steps. Everything was quite as the two embraced. Geralt's eyes went to the king and queen who were now standing. The queen looked just like (Y/N) but her hair was black, long stripes of grey peeking through her hair. The crown atop her head glistened in the light. Her right hand was tightly around her husband's arm, her other hand placed softly over her mouth as she looked at her children. Her husband looked much like Jaskier. His hair was the same color as both of their children, but much like his wife’s, much of it had turned grey. His eyes were the same cornflower blue that Jaskier had.

Minutes passed in silence before Jaskier put his hands on his sisters shoulders, pulling her away from him. He put one hand on her cheek as he examined her features. Her pale cheeks were damp with tears. But not sad tears. Tears of joy.

“My sister, how you’ve grown.” Geralt could hear the tears in the bard's voice. He couldn't see him but he could hear everything.

(Y/N) fingers gently brushed over her brother’s face as she smiled at him.

“My brother, how you haven't aged a day. You look just as I remember you. Maybe a few more wrinkles.” She teased. He laughed softly. Wiping his eyes with his hand before pulling her into another bone crushing embrace. She was much shorter than Jaskier, barely shoulder level with him. Geralt was shocked to remember she would be turning 25 in two days. She was still young in the face, beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to see her more up close.

While the siblings spoke their parents moved from the spots at the table, standing behind (Y/N). Alvere was the first to pull him into a tight embrace after her daughter let go. Her fingers gently combed through his hair as she inhaled his scent deeply.

“My dear son how I've missed you.” She whispers slowly into his ear. Geralt was starting to feel bad for eavesdropping. Not that he could help it. He was still standing at the entrance to the grand hall yet he could hear everything.

Jaskiers father hugged him next, it was not nearly as long as the outer two but both men were okay with it. Understanding that their relationship had never been one for long father son hugs.

“It is good to see you again my boy.” His hand clasped down on his son's shoulder.

The four of them stood close together, smiling more than Geralt ever thought possible. It almost made his heart turn. Deep, deep, deep, down the witcher longed for a family that would look at him the way they looked at Jaskier. He often cured the universe for not giving him an option when it came to what he had become. He clung to the few memories he had of his mother. But as years passed they became harder and harder to remember, more painful. But he had. Made a new sort of family over the years. From Jaskier, to his brothers at Kaer Morhen.

“(Y/N), mum, dad, there is someone I’d like you to meet.” Jaskier turned his head towards the door to the hall. Geralt stood tall, shoulders pressed back, his hair framed his face gracefully. Even in the entirely ugly attire he was in, he made himself as presentable and as proper as possible. (Y/N)’s eyes grew bigger when her eyes met his. He once again was taken aback by her beauty. Her eyes were a powerful emerald green matching similarly to the color of her brother's tunic, but brighter. Her mouth fell slightly agape when she realized who it was. The eyes were a dead give away that he was in fact a witcher, but once she saw the silver medallion that rested on his chest, she knew.

Jaskier nodded his head for Geralt to walk forward and he did, his footsteps were light, his pace slow and steady as he walked closer to the royal family. (Y/N)’s hand gently covered her mouth in excitement. Her eyes flickering to her brother who grinned at her.

“A bit of an early birthday gift.” He winked. Once Geralt was closer to the group Jaskier turned so he could introduce them, at his sister's side. All eyes were on him. Even the few people who were still seated at the table were looking at him. He started to feel a bit more uneasy. He started to remember how far away his swords were if he needed them. This alone was beginning to make him panic. He was not used to being welcomed into royal courts unless it was specifically for a hunt.

“This is Geralt of Rivia, one of the most feared, renowned, and skilled Witcher’s the content has to offer. And also my best friend.”

Geralt's eyes were back on (Y/N)’s, his worries dropped more when she smiled brightly at him. Her eyes gleamed.

Geralt bowed his head to the three of them, “ it is an absolute pleasure to meet you, your highnesses.” (Y/N) was nearly blown over by the sultry sound of his voice. She had only heard stories of the witcher. Never see him for herself and definitely had never heard him speak. She never expected a monster hunter to be as handsome as he was. She admired every feature he had. Her eyes fixating on his chiseled jawline, the light gray stubble across his chin and cheeks.

“My, what a pleasure it is to meet such a famed warrior as yourself Geralt!” The king spoke before (Y/N) could, which she was happy about as she did not trust her voice to not waver at his beauty in that moment.

“You my dear are very popular around here. Your stories are legendary. The school children even host yearly plays, Reenacting your most beloved stories.” (Y/N)’s mother added her finger pointing light hardly at Geralt. Her hand came out gracefully from her side to shake the Witcher’s hand. He gently took it, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His attention returned to (Y/N).

“I’m terribly sorry I’m the birthday gift from your brother this year.” She shook her head almost as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Do not be sorry Geralt-'' the way she said his name made him feel as though he could keel over. “I would like to thank you, for protecting my brother for the years you have. He never skips on his gratitude for you in his letter to me. For that we are all eternally grateful for you.” She reached her hand out. Geralt wasted no time in grabbing her hand, shaking it gently. He was dying inside, but he couldn't let her or anyone else see. He took a gentle step towards her, his head lowering softly, his soft lips were placed on the back of her small hand. The small action made the young girls' faces burn red. Her eyes flicked to her brother who smugly smiled, knowing danm well his gift was going to take the cake.

“Well, you both should come join us, we just started eating.” The king said with a smile, with a quick wave of his hand two more places we set.

(Y/N) gently removed her hand from Geralt’s. Walking towards the table, both men in tow. As she reached her spot she moved her plate and glass to the middle seat that had been prepared, leaving Jaskier a seat next to their mother and Geralt a seat next to her. They all sat and waited as food was served to them. (Y/N) could feel Geralt watching her as she ate, her brother deep in conversation with her parents about his most recent travels. But she wasnt listening. Her attention was only on the man seated to her left. She looked over at the man, eyed him up and down then turned to her brother. For the first time she noticed how ugly their attire was.

“Gods Jaskier who dressed you two?” She asked as she sipped her orange juice. Both men looked at her. Jaskier looked a bit hurt and Geralt only snorted.

“I told him the clothes were horrendous.” Geralt said beside the young woman making her giggle. The sound made his heart beat faster. This was also when he realized how sensibly everyone else in the room was dressed, and how much they stood out. (Y/N) was in a thin white cotton dress, it was around knee length and a light sweater was on her shoulders. Her mother and father dressed similarly. Their clothes looking normal, comfortable.

“Oh my dear brother. What have you done to the poor witcher.” She laughed, turning her attention to him. She could see how uncomfortable the clothes made him. The vest was way too tight and he was practically bursting out of his pants, not that she minded, she gladly enjoyed the view.

“He is torturing me. That's what.” Geralt scoffed and she couldn't help but giggle again.

“You're so dramatic Geralt it's truly not that bad.” Her head flicked to her brother.

“Jaskier don't be rude.” She tutted him like a mother, it made Geralt snort under his breath as he took a bite of his eggs. She stood and walked behind him. He was stiff at her movements.

“Do you mind?” Her fingers were on the strings of the vest. He shook his head no and she quickly untied the tight strings, and it fell from his shoulders. She took it off and handed it to one of the maids

“You can burn that horridly ugly thing.” She said as she sat back down.

“I do not remember you being so rude, little sister.” Jaskier quipped.

“What I think is rude is how you made sure you got the more presentable clothing and dressed your poor friend in those horrendous colors. Have you seen his pants, Jaskier?? It's a miracle he can still breath.” Her eyes looked towards the witcher who was already looking at her with a cocky smirk on his face, glad she was putting Jaskier in his place for the ugly outfit choice.

“I can take you to the seamstress later today, if you’d like Geralt.” Her smile was like a drug.

“I’d appreciate that m'lady.” He said softly.

“And I can show you around the city, both of you. But in return I would like to hear some of your stories, first hand if that’s doable.”

“That sounds like a reasonable trade.” Geralt quipped back.

“Then it's a date, Witcher.”

“A date it is.”

[honeyhenry]

Sweet as Pie

With some much needed time off, and excitement crisp in the air, you had flown over to Jersey with your husband Henry for Christmas to stay with his family, and they had been delighted to have you both back on his homeland. You settled in to Henry’s old room, unpacking all of the gifts you had brought for his family. You knew his nieces and nephews were going to love you even more when they saw what would be lying for them under the grand Christmas tree in the living room. Secretly, you were their favourite - not that they’d ever tell their poor Uncle Henry.

The large home is tidy, but scattered with family members in every room, all feeling at home in the place where Henry and his brothers grew up. You’d been able to catch up with the relatives you didn’t often see, and promise to spend some quality time together over the holidays.

It was so sweet to watch all the children’s faces light up on Christmas morning. You were glad that you and Henry could be spared an extra few moments in bed, being the only childless couple in the house. Yet moments later, Kal had leapt onto the bed - much to Henry’s annoyance; “down Kal, careful now” -  as soon as he had heard the pattering of his small friends’ feet out in the hallways. And what Kal wanted, you usually gave him.

Which is why, at 6.45am, Kal dragged you and in turn, dragged Henry down to the living room where the rest of the family sat, with the kids lit up like the Christmas tree that their plethora of presents laid under, grinning to their bleary eyed parents who’d barely had a wink of sleep on the cold winter morning.

“You’d think after 6 years it gets easier” you’d heard someone murmur, and so you’d decided to put the kettle on for those poor souls. Luckily for you, 45 minutes later, you’re able to snuggle back into bed with Henry, warming your feet on his legs to annoy him. You kiss the offended pout right off his face, before feeling his beefy arms wrap around your waist. It’s the last thing you had recalled, as you dozed off in his arms only seconds later, feeling his fingertips rub against your hip softly.

------

The kitchen was bustling with about 10 bodies all completing their various tasks; cooking, washing, baking, roasting, timing and tasting. Well, you had kicked your husband out of the kitchen for sneaking a taste of your dessert before it was ready, chastising him out of the door. 

“You can either help properly or go and play with your siblings” you had bargained while he’d grinned, leaning against the doorframe. He raised an eyebrow, looking you up and down like you were a pastry he was keen to ravish himself; “But who is going to compliment the chef?”

With that, you’d folded your arms across your chest, blushing at his words. The cheek of that man was not lost on you, and it still got you every single time. 

And you loved him for it.

------

The meal was a total success. A wonderful soup starter, followed by a small appetiser, and then the most magnificent turkey. Feeding over 20 people - now probably closer to 30 if you were to include the children who were growing up so quickly in front of your eyes - had proven to be difficult, but it was a challenge the family had clearly tackled before.

You had been so excited to prepare the desserts, and present your dish. However, halfway through the day, somewhere between the main course, watching your nephews with their new toys, and the dessert course of the delicious homemade Christmas feast, you’d fallen asleep on the sofa completely tuckered out. Your legs rested on Henry’s lap as he’d covered you with a hand-knitted blanket that he’d once slept with as a boy. Henry’s mother speaks up, careful not to wake you. She has a gleam in her eye, not that you or even Henry notice, too wrapped up in your own cozy sleepy bubble together by the fire.

“Dessert can wait” his mother says to the gaggle of children and adults swarming the living room, “go out and get some fresh air.”

She turns to the children, specifically.  “Do not disturb your Aunt, okay?”

------

Your cheeks are warm as the fire heats the living room, and after a particularly competitive game of rugby with his brothers, nieces, and nephews, Henry quietly checks on you. He had left the room earlier when you had shifted your legs slightly, taking the opportunity to get some fresh air himself. It had indeed been a long day. His brothers had questioned your tiredness briefly, making sure you were well. With the knowledge that you were simply sleepy, they had begun to joke that you obviously just couldn’t keep up with the rest of the Cavills - despite having married into the family for 2 years and been around for the holidays for 4. Henry had promised them that you were fine -  that you still weren’t used to the long trip back to the island for the holidays. 

Not exactly a fib, he’d thought.

Kal was laid beside you, loyal as ever, watching out for anyone who may disturb your rest, sending a rumbling growl towards anyone who approached. Except Henry. 

While checking on you now to make sure you were still comfortable and resting well, he smiled, taking a picture of you wrapped up cosily by the fire, at peace in his childhood home, completely at rest and ease with him and his closest relatives. Petting Kal softly, he thanks him for looking after his mama so well.

“So?”

His mother, he hears. She’s alone for once as there was no one rushing to check for updates on food, no enquiries about the house, or any funny stories woven into a ten minute tale from her grandchildren. She’s alone, with her hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised.

Henry stands up straight. There’s nothing that can wipe the tremendously cheesy grin off of his face. He can’t even speak. Even after dessert had finished, you were the one who would be doing all the talking, the telling, the explaining.

“Mum-”

“Henry. She’s not ill. and i know you’re sensible enough to not be up the whole night with your wife...at least under my roof. So…?”

He looks over at your peaceful form, and then scratches his neck, blushing at being caught out, but also ecstatic that he can finally say something about it.

“She’s eleven weeks. We’re expecting a baby next summer”

With that, his mother almost leaps with joy over to her son, who she hugs closely despite the obvious height barrier. 

“Oh i knew it, I knew it! I’m so happy for you Henry, for you both. I thought, ‘She normally loves that bread for starter’, hm? Oh my boy! A father!”

With her proclamation, Henry finds that he has tears in his eyes as he holds his Mother close, finally glad that it’s not just a little secret between the two of you - well, the two of you and Kal, who had already been a stellar protector and big brother.

“We had planned to tell everyone after dessert…we’ve known for nearly 2 months and it’s been killing me that I couldn’t say. We’ve had to be so careful-“ 

“Henry?” he hears your quiet voice from across the room, as Kal’s collar jingles. He turns to see you sitting up from your nap with Kal booping his nose at your stomach. You’re scratching at his head, thanking him for being such a wonderful boy, while looking up at the two Cavills.

It takes less than a second for you to realise what is happening in front of you. Your jaw drops and louder than your previous call, you exclaim, “Henry you told her?”

“She worked it out! Practically forced it out of me.” he grins, holding his hands up as his Mother pretends to smack his arm.

You stand, watching not to step on Kal or any stray Legos that your nephews have left strewn across the floor, and walk over to hug her. She’s been so caring and kind since you’ve joined the family all those years ago, and you know that she will be an incredible Grandma to your little one. 

Breaking apart from the hug, you find Henry pulling you to him carefully, letting you melt into his side. Kissing your forehead he asks, for your ears only, “Good sleep? No pains? Sickness?” He has a small crease of worry between his brows and you always do your best to soften that small tense area with regular updates and sweet kisses.

“Yeah i’m okay honey” you reassure him, patting your stomach, “this ones growing up a storm in there”. 

And they really are. Henry’s mother cannot believe she’s seeing it, and mostly can’t believe she missed it. You’re already showing, but a large loose sweater -probably one of Henry’s old ones that has since become yours - over your dress, has hidden a sizeable roundness to your stomach that you were excited to finally show.

“How did I miss this!” Your mother-in-law gasps, causing you to grin, and Henry’s chest to puff with utter pride and excitement.

“I know it’s bordering on having too much to eat, but we’ve been hiding it for a couple weeks now. Doctor thinks that baby’s gonna be big. Just like their daddy.” You explain, giving your stomach another gentle rub, surprised to find Henry’s hand there on it already.

If you’d thought Kal was protective, Henry was another thing altogether.

He’s still grinning as you kiss him, before you pull away to speak more to his mother about all the details, especially when you’ll be coming over to Jersey again. Kai follows you closely, making sure you’re staying safe. He’s known that there’s something up with his mama, there has been for weeks, especially with the way his master looks after you now.

Henry, deciding to be sneaky while the two women in his life are currently distracted chatting, takes another taste of the dessert you made, now set out on the kitchen. The worst part is, he thinks he’s got away with it.

He realises he doesn’t the second you smack his hand from the dessert.

“Strike two Mr Cavill! Step away from the pie.”

“And if I don’t?” he raises an eyebrow, watching your reactions as you hold a butter knife in your hand trying to look at least vaguely threatening - failing miserably. “Maybe i’ll strike out tonight, hm?” he continues with that wonderfully mischievous glint in his eye, taking cautious steps towards you. “You look even sweeter than your pie with this little bump here. Maybe I’ll have a taste later after all.” 

Henry’s mother had not been right in her assumptions, for under her roof, you and Henry were not sensible at all.

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

please let me know what u think! i am v nervous to post but excited!!!

[oogaboogasphincter]

The 50/10 Method (Agent Whiskey x f!reader)

Summary: Jack makes the most of your 10 minute study break. 

Word Count: 2.7k+

Rating: E (explicit) 18+ ONLY! bc this is just cringey smut lmfao

Warnings: smut (oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (obvi use protection irl), very easily and conveniently reached orgasms (this is a fantasy i can do what i want skjfkd), dirty talk, one (1) allusion to thigh riding and one (1) instance of 💙spitting💙, fingering, positions i hope i've given enough detail so y’all can imagine what i was picturing💀), pet names (sweetheart, honey, cowboy *affectionately*, good girl, baby), there’s a sentence about reader having long-ish hair, reader and jack have a dog, swearing, reader is afab and is called things like good girl and the like, just overall trash grammar and structure 😇

Author’s Note: so this is very poorly written and extremely self-indulgent, as i myself use the 50/10 method 🙃. but i had a lot of fun with it, and i think that’s what writing is supposed to be all about! :) also i was heavily inspired to write this after reading “Take a Break” by @mellowswriting​ and “Study Buddy” by @pascalpanic​. please go check those out because they’re absolutely fantastic!!!!! +while you’re at it, i would highly advise you to read anything on their masterlists bc they’re just 💜exquisite💜

gif by @thernandalorian​

The lines of text on your computer screen are starting to blend into each other, creating a single run-on sentence that one of your previous English teachers would ridicule the author for. The sharp curves and angles that distinguish each letter from the next are becoming soft and dull, blurring into each other until your brain can only recognize it as a smeared streak of black on white.

It’s 11:00am on a Saturday, a big exam set for the upcoming Monday’s morning. You don’t feel rushed for time, or overloaded with unknown material, and the early hours of the day have been quite productive. Following a shared breakfast of homemade waffles in bed with Jack, your boyfriend, you didn’t complain when setting up your study station on the living room’s large oak table. If anything, you had been excited to begin studying early in the hopes of finishing your review by the end of the day. That way, tomorrow would be free for you and Jack to do whatever you pleased.

However, as the hours went by, your motivation was slowly but surely diminishing. The serene study atmosphere that you usually thrive in is now driving you mad. You yearn for a noise, any noise; a bird to sing a song in the tree outside your window, the smack of your dog’s loose wrinkles against each other as he attempts to shake the sleep out of him, a pencil unable to stop itself from rolling and dropping onto the floor with a tink.

You’re momentarily gifted with the crisp sound of a page turning. You flit your eyes over to gaze upon the source of your granted wish and your heart flutters in reaction to the sight: Jack’s resting on the couch, cowboy hat balanced on the back of it, deeply absorbed in the next installment of his favorite murder-mystery series. You find it curious that his desire for an adrenaline-filled challenge doesn’t stop when he comes home from mission after mission that nearly cost him his life. You’ll ask him about his insatiability one day, but for now you categorize it as fictional research for his Statesman assignments.

Your short glance quickly turns into an entranced stare. Jack looks... divine. Fetching. Luscious. As he’s lying on his back, neck propped up against the arm of the couch, his book balanced on his chest, relaxation radiates off of him in waves and utterly seduces you. You’re surprised that he hasn’t been a greater distraction to you throughout the morning. How have you managed to ignore the denim-wearin’, plaid-shirted, pornstache-sportin’ cowboy of your dreams that is only a few steps away?

Involuntarily, the thigh muscles of your crossed legs contract in an effort to bring some semblance of friction to your now weeping core. Similar to your imaginings of your dog earlier, you shake your head to force these heavy, unwanted feelings to dissipate and turn back to the work in front of you. Of course, Jack does the opposite of what you’d like him to do and takes an interest in your fidgeting. He peeks over the top of his book, “You cold, sweetheart?” 

His question is reasonable: you’re purposely wearing a skirt that’s so short it rides up quite high when you sit. You don’t dare to meet his eyes and answer while pulling a textbook close and opening it up, “No, I’m okay.”

Fortunately he returns to his reading. Your attention is able to retain itself for about a paragraph, but then your mind takes a sharp detour back to those pesky, steamy desires. You mentally huff at your inability to remain concentrated on your studies and rifle through the options of what you can do to satiate yourself for the time being. 

You could switch texts and force your brain to recognize the change and therefore become distracted. You could pick out some colored writing utensils and bring some fun to active reading. You could say fuck it, go straddle Jack and beg him to use you in whichever way he would like.

Jack interrupts your brainstorming, “Are you sure you don’t need a blanket or sumthin’? I can go get my jacket for ya.” 

The attentiveness of your southern lover melts your heart. You turn to him, “No, really, I’m okay, thanks.”

“I wouldn’t count a bathroom break as taking away from your 50 minutes, honey, if that’s what’s makin’ you twitch.” 

You had been implementing and strictly adhering to the 50/10 method all morning: study for 50 minutes, take a break for ten. Its effectiveness was never doubted, as it has proven to work for you for years. Only ten minutes into this 50 minute period, the devil of restlessness pokes at you and makes you think could time go by any slower? A hand comes up to cover the blush creeping across your cheek as you dismiss Jack’s suggestion, “No, that’s not it.”

Behind your embarrassed hand, Jack cocks an eyebrow at you. Your simple choice of words has given the Agent a hint, that there is something that’s bothering you, he just hasn’t figured it out yet and you don’t want to admit what it is for some reason. He returns to his book, however lost in thought about what your problem could be, while you task every cell in your body to pay attention to your studies. 

35 minutes remain on the clock, and Jack guesses, “Did you have too much coffee?”

You can’t help but grin at his sleuthing, “No, I just had my regular.”

He conjures up another possible solution five minutes later, “Are you itchin’ to get out of the house? We haven’t left in two days.”

He’s getting warmer. Both of you know exactly why you haven’t left the house in two days: you’d been occupied with activities of the sinful variety. You can’t gauge yet whether or not he knows he’s dancing around the answer, “Baby, you’re distracting me. And nope, it’s not that.” 

He smiles apologetically, “Sorry,” and uses his book as a partition, blocking your ability to procrastinate and just visually drool all over him.

Silence fills the next 20 minutes. Even though Jack is out of your sight, details from your observations exaggerate themselves in your mind to the point that they’re all encompassing, intoxicating. The way his jeans wrap around his legs ever so perfectly, the worn denim hugging those muscular thighs that he loves for you to grind yourself against when you’re feeling especially desperate (like now). How his plaid flannel slopes over the swell of his belly, stretching tight against his skin as his diaphragm contracts and deflating when he exhales. Even his large feet, strewn about lazily on the couch, his toes pointing in different directions, amuse you. 

Ten minutes remain in your study session. Feeling guilty about spending the majority of the last hour envisioning the seductive intricacies of your boyfriend, you actually start to study. 

“How many times do you think I can make you cum in ten minutes?”

Your eyes are ripped from your material and land on the menace lazing on the couch. He’s put his book down, one arm behind his head while the other is crooked, allowing himself to palm his cock through his pants. Jack’s wearing a shit-eating grin, bewitching your crossed legs to switch which one is on top; an excuse to apply more pressure to the yearning area between them. You fidget in the chair, shamefully trying to get the seam of your underwear to rub against you in just the right way. You shrug, “I-I’m not sure.”

He gets up and comes over to you, standing behind you and leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. He murmurs in your ear, “I think we should find out during your next break.”

You turn to face him, “I think so too.”

He gives you a quick kiss, “Well, you better be a good girl and study for these last few minutes. Earn that break.” He places his large hands on either side of your head and turns it toward your materials, making you both laugh.

Somehow, you’re able to pay attention. Jack’s impending promise of ravaging you for ten minutes straight quells your jittering nerves and gives you something specific to look forward to. Before you know it, your alarm is beeping, alerting you that your break has commenced. Jack cages you by reaching forward and grabs the clock, programs it to ten minutes and keeps it in his hand. He grips the sides of your swivel chair, pulls it back from the table and spins you around to face him, the speed of the turn making your hair swoosh across your shoulders. Through mutual giggles, Jack lifts you up, winding your legs around his waist, your arms doing the same around his neck. “I want you to count for me how many times you cum.”

Breathlessly, you simply obey, “Okay.”

He practically runs to the bedroom. He sets the clock on the nightstand and turns the face towards the mattress so you don’t lose out on studying time. Tossing you onto the bed, your giggling continues as you bounce from the force. Jack hooks his fingers in your underwear and yanks them down, pulling them out from under your skirt and over your shoes. The way he wastes no time ridding you of any other garment makes blood and heat flood your center and air rush out of your lungs. He pushes your lost air back into your mouth with a kiss and then immediately retreats back to in between your legs.

He flicks the fabric of your skirt up onto your belly, letting himself have complete, unobstructed access to his early lunch. His fingers fondle your folds while his lips place sloppy kisses along the inside of your thighs. After he’s had his fill of that step, he sits back and stares at you: spread out for him, more than willing to take anything he wants to give to you. He blows out a whistle, eyeing your core, and you say, “Hey, you’re on the clock, cowboy. No time for dramatics.”

He nods, a smirk pulling at one side of his mouth, “You’re right, sweetheart.”

He spits onto your cunt, forgoing his usual gentle licks to adequately wet your pussy. A quiet fuck escapes your mouth as he plunges his tongue into you. Your fingers wind themselves in his chocolatey locks and pull, extracting an excited moan from your lover. His fingers knead the soft flesh on the backs of your thighs as he eats and when his mustache starts to tickle your clit, you’re done for. Your grip on his hair becomes vice-like and your whole body seizes up, constricted by enrapturing pleasure. You strangle out, “One.”

Jack unlatches his mouth only once he’s certain your first orgasm is complete. He stands, admires your wrecked expression, takes his cock out, spits into his hand and pumps his dick a few times. Hands slithering around your waist, he flips you onto your stomach and pulls your ass up, positioning you on your hands and knees. You’re a little bit dizzied by his manhandling in combination with his expert tongue, but this type of vertigo is the most enjoyable you’ve ever experienced. 

When he pushes into you, it’s a bit of a stretch because he hadn’t warmed you up with his fingers. He relaxes you by leaning forward, pressing his chest against your back and peppering soft kisses to your shoulder blades. The clink of his belt comically punctuates his thrusts, but your laughs are swallowed by intoxicated groans. You don’t know, and you don’t really care to figure out, how he already has you teetering on the edge of cumming again. Heightened senses tell you that you’re close; the fabric of his shirt feels unearthly soft as it brushes against patches of exposed skin, his fingertips are delightful lead in their clamp on you, his grunts and pants angelically reverberate in your skull. And then, suddenly and all at once, “Two.”

Jack’s pride shows itself in a smirk while he flips you onto your back. He makes a show of hooking your calves over his shoulders, eliciting laughter from the both of you. Resting almost all of his weight on top of you, your knees find your chest and his hands find your hair. The intimacy of it all is almost too much; his thumbs stroke your temples, palms cradle your head, those goddamned puppy-dog eyes bore into you. You turn your head in his grasp to check your timing: five minutes left. 

Jack’s tongue darts out to lick the pads of his fingers before he snakes it down in between the two of you to rub your clit. Your moans come out uncontrollably, your eyelids stutter and he eggs you on, “That’s it, sweetheart. Give me another one.”

Hearty moans are reduced to desperate gasps and you’re unable to verbally acknowledge the third orgasm that rips through you. Nonetheless, Jack can tell from the way your eyes roll into the back of your head and his name tumbles ferociously out of your mouth that you’re cumming. “’Atta girl.”

Jack takes his cock out of you and the whine that escapes your lips embarrasses you. He can’t help but laugh at your whimpering before he scoots down the bed and starts to eat you out again, framing his head with your quaking thighs. You find the strength to check the time, “Jack, there’s only a minute and a half left.”

He moans deeply into you, unaffected by your comment, and eases three fingers into your fluttering center. Like earlier, your hands fly to his hair like a magnet and find purchase so tight it makes your knuckles go pale. In a matter of seconds, circling your clit with his sopping tongue and tapping your g-spot with his deft fingers, Jack has you cumming yet again. This time you yell out the count, “Four!”

The sounds his ministrations make are lewd and exhilarating, pushing himself to his own precipice. You look down your body to find Jack’s other hand jerking his cock and his seed spilling out of him moments later. He groans into your pussy while you pet his hair, praising him for his efforts. 

Simultaneously, you both remember that you’re being timed. Your eyes meet the clock at the same time: 30 seconds. Jack springs from the bed and pulls you up with him, grabbing your discarded panties. He squats and taps your ankles so you lift your legs up, sliding each leg hole over your body and pulling your underwear up underneath your skirt. 

You fumble with his mussed clothes, stuffing his still-hard cock into his boxers, hiking his jeans up over his ass and zip and button them closed. You snake his belt around his waist and let his fingers do the work of buckling it before he picks you up bridal style and ushers you out of the bedroom, grabbing the clock off of the nightstand on your way out. 

Unhinged cackles follow you two down the hallway as you return to the living room. He plops you down in your chair, straightens you out, gives you a kiss on the cheek and then your alarm goes off. You raise your eyebrows at him, “Jeez, you didn’t waste a second.” 

He hums, then mumbles, “You get back to work now, babygirl,” and leaves you with a yearning kiss on the part of your hair.

Both of you return to your respective readings, hopelessly trying to downgrade your panting gasps to normal breaths. The absence of Jack’s warmth is already painful. But you rationalize that the indulgence of the last ten minutes is more than enough to get you through this next hour of studying, if not for longer.

Little do you know that Jack feels the same pain. His ache for your touch, sexual or not, will overtake him later and he’ll be unable to resist the temptation of coming over and distracting you again. Determined to finish your studying, you’ll propose a compromise: you can sit in his lap while he is lulled to sleep by the ambience of the afternoon rain and the enveloping comfort of you. The two of you can try to beat the record of four orgasms next semester. 

💘taglist: @pascalpanic​, @mellowswriting​