#and seriously even if I always tend to whine and complain I am loving this

[porlovistoeinmasochist]

I have been having fun all in all with the series, it has given me more of Anakin/Vader which is really all I want of Star Wars. And this episode was amazing in that regard, it gave us more of the fact that Anakin is Vader, Vader is Anakin. How the flashback cuts to Vader, its Vader remembering Anakin waiting for Obi Wan to do a training duel, those are Vaders memories. The guy ruminating about all of Anakins memories, as Vader. I loved that!

Also they are giving us true Eldritch Abomination Anakin, Vader, just bringing down the ship and ripping it apart. Yes! That is the cosmic horror, the nightmare of the galaxy, an actual offspring of the force. I was sooooooo afraid, because before watching I saw some spoilers, and my One (1) fear is a watered down Vader, the fun of this guy is that he is the worst with god like powers, just rampaging and doing evil with forces nobody comprehends, while staying enslaved, to the guy who is evil incarnate, through the power of apathy, guilt and self loathing. So I was cheering him on! Look at my rampaging guy go! Allow him to go batshit crazy!

And the duel, him just playing with his food! No effort on his part, just perfection! But here is where my griping starts: whyyyyyy didn’t he kill Reva?….besides her having now plot armor….just snap her neck, cut off her head, anything, he is normally so efficient in disposing of people. The falshy burning and then letting escape stick is reserved for his special obsession of obi wan. But if this would have been XY employee of him he would have killed her. I know he is trapped inside a mobile torture device and is just apathy in person, full of rage, pain, guilt and self loathing, but if he excels at ONE thing it’s freaking MURDER. So letting her live makes so no sense….

And not only him, but the Grand Inquisitor, who is alive, because why not, will it be explained how he survived a lightsaber through his thorax? He also just taunts….and lets her alive…and its just the absurd trope of ‘evil guys are dumb’ that just….meh.

[lunawritesaa]

i am tired !! but i also have a drive to write,, random sleep hcs! they are my forte.. my light atm. i had a desire to write and this is what happens

might do more of these.. they were fun lol :D

——————

-> phoenix: the bed hog. takes up so much space that you will be curled into a ball at the edge, praying that you don’t fall off in the middle of the night. bonus! he’s also a huge cuddler! so while you have no space, you also have a 5’8” man curled up beside you, wanting to be as close as possible. if he feels you drift away, he inches closer.. there is no escape

-> miles: very silent, and very still. he is not very touchy at night as he values his sleep time. he’ll lay on his side of the bed, on his back, and just still. honestly, you might think he’s dead by how little he moves. occasionally, he’ll have nightmares that jolt him awake. but other than that he tends to keep to himself at night.

-> apollo: SNORES. SO. LOUDLY. you’re going to need one of those beds that automatically adjusts when one person in the bed is snoring because holy crap. his chords of steel shine brightly as he snores the night away. he’s a very heavy sleeper too, so even when you try to jostle him awake to shut him up, he doesn’t.

-> athena: takes her “bedtime” a little too seriously. she has a very strict bedtime that she follows every single night, and hates to disrupt it! good sleep means good health! she will routinely be in bed by the same time every night, and wake up at the same time every day. she likes to drag you to bed with her because what’s a good night’s rest without cuddling your partner, huh?

-> klavier: a huge cuddle bug. this man.. is so touchy. you cannot be within a foot of him and not have him touching you in some way. he refuses to sleep without you, and insists on holding you as tightly as possible. will whine and complain if you have to get up at any point throughout the night, or get up earlier than him. he just doesn’t sleep as well without his love in his arms!

-> maya: starfishes on the bed. she always flips onto the bed and completely spreads out. and then she’s OUT. it’s almost comical how quickly she falls asleep. most of the time, you’ll end up sleeping on the couch. on the rare times that you do fit into bed with her, she tends to steal the covers. she’ll apologize profusely the next day.

-> simon: tends to fall asleep at his desk. he’s a workaholic, and will sit as his desk for hours working. he loses track of time quickly as the sun sets without him realizing. before he knows it, his eyes are dropping as the words on the paper blend together. he’ll only realize he’s fallen asleep when you nudge him awake and drag him to bed. he’ll fall asleep practically immediately, but he’ll open his arms so you can fall asleep on his shoulder first.

-> herlock: takes forever to fall asleep. he has too much energy for this own good. his brain is always working and you have to force him to bed. however, even when he’s in bed, he will lie there awake for hours. and if he’s awake, that means he’s going to bother you! he won’t shut up until you shove a pillow in his face and beg him to stop talking. jokes on you, once he’s asleep he’s a nuisance to wake up.

-> barok: a very light sleeper. he’s always on alert, especially when he’s sleeping. being asleep means he’s vulnerable; he could be attacked at any moment. so any little noise or movement will wake him up. surprisingly, he likes to keep you within arms reach at night. he’ll never vocally admit it, but he likes knowing you’re nearby so he can protect you. likes holding your hand while sleeping.

-> kazuma: a late sleeper and an early riser. he tries not to stay up late, but work often keeps him up. he always tells you not to wait for him to go to sleep; however, he does love falling asleep next to you. there’s something very relaxing about it all. he often finds that he enjoys waking before you, too, as it brightens his mood to see your peaceful face.

—————

[realcube]

how they use their quirk during sex

navi | masterlist | taglist 

thank you to anon for this request 

characters ♡ bakugo, kirishima, kaminari, dabi & tamaki

content warning ♡ slapping, electrostimulation, fire play, masturbation, mentions of voyeur, choking, oral (giving + receiving), blood kink, mention of knife play, unconventional organism eating & vagina-having reader - minors dni

katsuki bakugo 

♡ he likes to ensure that his slaps leave a mark

♡ just so everyone knows that you’re his

♡ just seeing you all marked up from his explosions and hand just gets him so hard tbh

♡ also, he loves squeezing you - it makes him feel powerful and dominant - so sometimes he just grabs a handful of your tit, squeezes it then proceeds to make you yelp by setting off a lil’ explosion in his hand 

♡ he’s no villain, but he definitely wants to hear you scream in pain or pleasure - either or both works 

♡ so whenever he is hitting it from behind and you feel a zing through your body after he spanks your thigh, mentally prepare yourself for trouble in regards to sitting down - for the next week or so 

♡ it’s a hard thing to do though because he needs to be 100% that he won’t seriously burn you or harm you, or else he literally wouldn’t be able to look himself in the mirror for the rest of...his life 

♡ so yeah, if he’s not completely confident in the fact he’ll be able to smack you without burning you, he just won’t do it 

♡ also, the little crackles and pops from miniature, involuntary explosions going off as he approaches his climax not only entertain you, but they also drown out his moans 

♡ not that he’s ashamed of the sounds he makes - he’s loud and proud - it’s just that the explosions help balance out the noise so it’s not just his grunts echoing throughout the room

♡  plus, they add ambience 

eijiro kirishima

♡ he hardens his back to avoid getting scratches on it lol

♡ it’s not that he doesn’t like getting marked up by you or anything, it’s just a hero instinct tbh

♡ but honestly, you like the feeling of your nails digging into his back then suddenly, the skin becomes sniffer around your fingers

♡ sometimes he accidentally employs his quirk while he is choking you because he gets so into it 

♡ or just as he is about to slap your thigh/ass

♡ he also has a bad habit of hardening when you are trying to give him hickeys

♡ so yeah, you’ll probably be left with bruises, hand prints and bite mark scattered across your inner thigh and torso after sex with kirishima and he leaves unscathed 

♡ also, idk if this is apart of his quirk but his pointy-ass teeth definitely come in handy - especially if you have a blood/biting kink

♡ kiri is willing to go full vampire for you <3

♡ also, you don’t need knives to do knife play with kiri - he is the knife (well, his teeth are) 

♡ he says sternly that he doesn’t enjoy knife/blood play but then he gets oddly aroused when drawing blood from your thigh or nibbling at your slit while he eats you out 

denki kaminari 

♡ i am so sorry but i can’t stop thinking about kami playfully zapping you during sex AAAA

♡ like if you are into electrostimulation- kaminari is basically your sex soulmate 

♡ also if you aren’t like super into electrostim but you give consent for him to lightly zap you from time to time, he will take advantage of that

♡ like just as you’re approaching your orgasm, he’ll shock you slightly so your moans are even louder and your pleasure is escalated 

♡ or sometimes during the foreplay, when he is just fondling with your breasts, he’ll give it a lil’ zap so you perk up and whine for him 

♡ he just loves seeing the way your whole body juts in reactions and how your nipples erect at the shock

♡ whenever he slaps your thigh/ass, it’ll always send somewhat of a current through your body, which arouses you even more 

♡ tickles your clit with electric sometimes just to add some flare 

♡ he might make you beg for his touch if you’re needy enough, then simply run his charged hand over your body teasingly

♡ but if you’re into full-on electrostimulation, he’s extreme picky about the times he is able to utilise his quirk bc now he’ll have to send larger currents (instead of just lil zaps which i assume are easily to control) so ofc he needs to be in the right headspace or he could potentially harm you and obviously, that’s the last him he wants to do

♡ so yeah, he probably trains his quirk extra to ensure that he can produce exactly the right amount of electricity for you

♡ omg and he is probably into mutual masturbation/voyeur !! bc you are like his goddess so ofc he gets off to seeing you touch yourself even if he isn’t the one providing the pleasure. also it really brings out his inner perv 

♡ so if you like to use toys when you masturbate, literally do not worry about any of them running out of charge/battery while you’re pleasuring yourself, kaminari has you covered bb 💅 

♡ also, outside of sex he probably playfully zaps you all the time - like if he is standing behind you, he’ll tap your shoulder followed by a little electric shock. which makes you jump and turn around to see him standing, whistling and averting his gaze unsuspectingly

♡ ‘what, kami? and ouch.’

♡ his eyes widened as he inhaled sharply with an offended look on his face, ‘eh, what?! i didn’t do anything!’

♡ you blinked rapidly, ‘who else has an electricity quirk nearby?’

dabi

♡ he mostly uses his quirk during the actual act of peneration

♡ he rarely uses it during foreplay 

♡ maybe just to set the mood by using his finger to light the candles on his bedside table or sumn 

♡ or, if you’re into fire play, he’ll drag his glowing finger across your chest to trace your curves while leaving a pale marks behind, shooting an erotic burning sensation through your body 

♡ or LORD he (lightly) burns his name into your skin !! so everyone knows you are his >:)

♡ i believe that - unlike the other boys - dabi is able to control his quirk pretty well all throughout sex, no matter what mood he is in

♡ so angry make-up sex with added fireplay isn’t completely out of the question

♡ though, he is a bit cruel so if he’s got your ass in his hands while he’s approaching his orgasm, he will purposefully burn marks into your skin

♡ however, everything comes with a price

♡ so although he can control his quirk at almost all times, he does not know how to deal with the aftermath pffft

♡ he’ll look at your bright red ass and how you are struggling to sit down and be like ‘put some aloe vera on it idfk 🤷‍♂️’ 

♡ anyway, just expect there to be burn marks on every part of your body that dabi touched

♡ the most painful ones are probably the ones he leave on your hips, while he holds your pretty figure in place and drills into you from behind

♡ or perhaps the ones he makes on the back of your head as he forces you take more of his cock into your mouth 

♡ then again, the burns on your neck once he has finished roughly choking you like a slut while pounding into your cunt, were also problematic  

♡ but the handprints he leaves on your torso as he feels around the bulge his massive cock makes in your stomach also hurt quite bad 

♡ god knows, but you’re just generally in pain after sex with dabi tbh

tamaki amajiki

♡ suneater more like pussyeater amarite

♡ this might be a lil bestiality-esque bc he is like a human who develops features of an animal but like..he is still a human, after all, so he can consent 

♡ but anyway, tw for anyone who doesn’t want to read anything of the sort !!

♡ ok, so, let’s get this out of the way first - tentacles 😍 KJVDKFVZDI

♡ he uses them exactly how you imagine he would; he simultaneous holds you down, massages your breast, covers your mouth, chokes you, slithers one up your cunt and one up your ass - just..everything...

♡ like if the tentacles are out, you know you are getting overstimulated that night

♡ also sometimes - if he’s feeling especially bold - he’ll slip one of his tentacles under your skirt while in public then just watch as you desperately try to stifle moans from how good he feels squirming inside you  

♡ you both like it a little more than you’d like to admit tbh

♡ also, one time he ate goose just so he could manifest wings and try fuck you mid-air lmao 

♡ that would’ve brought a whole new meaning to ‘flying fuck’

♡ unfortunately, it didn’t work as well as he had hoped as his wings couldn’t support both of your weight so it was more like him hovering over the bed while drilling into you from above 

♡ it was definitely a new angle though, so you couldn’t complain

♡ he’ll pinch your clit and squeeze your tits with his lobster claws but that’s about it - he generally doesn’t tend to manifest those during sex

♡ one of his dirtiest secrets is that one time, he paid crazy money for a dish with elephant meat in it, in hopes that he’d get a monster cock

♡ (no, the thought never occurred to him that perhaps horse would be a better, cheaper alternative)

♡ bc he highkey has a size kink but you’ve already kinda gotten use to his size so he needed to amp it up...

♡ but no- all he got was a trunk 😭

♡ however, it wasn’t all bad bc at least he made good use of that trunk- 

♡ (he shoved it so far up you, he hoped to see it come out your mouth 🥰)

♡ anyway, rapid-fire round:

♡ he once ate rabbit so he could develop bunny ears and a tail so he could be your cute lil’ bunny boy 🥺 while you peg him 

♡ buffalo wings get him riled up tbh - only top energy after he has buffalo wings 

♡ honestly, the beak he manifests after eating chicken lowkey destroys your cunt- 

♡ the leathery skin he gets after eating crocodile makes him feel badass

♡ oh! and the sharp teeth too- like kirishima, he will go full-vampire if you want him too

♡ his quirk is so versatile, just let your imagination run wild lmao ✨  

♡ plus, he is pretty whipped for you so he's basically down to try anything

[euphoricsunflowers]

it’s ok!! there’s no rush on responding or anything ☺️

it really is! I tend to love people with fire and water in their charts because they’re usually a nice balance of like… being emotionally intelligent and earnest and a lot of fun… and we can see that in mingyu in the way he’s like. THE most bulliable member of seventeen haha (oooh! what star sign are you out of curiousity? im actually a Pisces myself too… a triple one at that lmfao… I have sun moon AND mars in Pisces) but yeah for sure…! he’s so acts of service oriented that being able to take care of you/having you ask him for things or help with things etc would make him feel a sense of pride I imagine

hehe thank u kindly! this edging piece has existed in my mind for forever but it’s been a hot second since I’ve written any kind of smut so it’s just like… floating. AND HE DOES… but I do think he would get off so much on the gradual progression of you pretending to be bored to when you’re visibly into it… or maybe because I find the concept of face sitting with mingyu where you’re pretending to focus on a book/or a video game really hot haha. who knows. I just… like if you’re not calling him a good boy what are you doing with your time. he’d probably even like it outside the bedroom

he would really be satisfied if he just made you come and he was left wanting… luckily for him you probably like leaving him a mess way too much to deny him completely…

you’re absolutely correct! id argue soonyoung is up there in baby girls but hhu is a unit full of them… wonwoos babygirlism appears only in specific situations but that makes it more lethal when it does appear… and seungcheol is so interesting in that he both has a protective instinct to take care but I feel like the baby girl is definitely there it just needs to be fully coaxed out…………

(also your tag. i would like to see them fight to the death over who is the most baby girl. going seventeen episode idea??)

anon i don’t think you understand i think i might be in love with you- TRIPLE PISCES??? geez i think i am in love 🫣 im actually a taurus sun, aries moon, leo rising, aries venus, and cancer mars, those are the ones i know off the top of my head

he is the most bulliable you’re so right for that 😌 i don’t think anyone else in svt would take it quite as well as he can. he can take a lot from you, especially verbally, he’ll just pout like a puppy and complains but he will 100% be over it in 30 seconds or immediately if u kiss him he’s just always heart eyes for someone he loves 💔

no but seriously even as a sub i just know it feeds his ego so much when you start out kinda bored, not really paying attention to him to you getting really into it like he wants the full ‘suffocate him with your thighs’ experience also yes yes yes to the good boy thing bro not to be soft or anything but like, calling him a good boy while playing with his hair with his head resting in your lap pls im crying

he is so focused on you though like even if he’s unconsciously whining about how worked up his is, he’s still focused on pleasuring you again and again until you tell him to stop. at least to him, only your pleasure matters <33 and if you do decide to make him cum, he’ll be literally so grateful and polite like pls 💔

omg i can’t believe i forgot soonyoung 😭😭 he is also very baby girl but idk man i think you’re underestimating wonu’s and seongcheol’s power like maybe i’m just on twitter too much (which is correct lmao) but i’m always seeing those two

[dreamkidddream]

I absolutely loved the doll! mc one with the brothers and diavolo. Could I ask for the same idea with the rest of the undateables and luke? If it isn't too much though. Thank you very much, don't forget to take care of yourself and stay hydrated!

I’m glad you enjoyed the first part!! I hope you’re staying safe through this pandemic and that you’re drinking plenty of water. I’m so happy that people liked the Doll!MC scenario so much (it even became one of my top posts and I was NEVER expecting that to happen 😳 click here to read it with the Bros and Diavolo). I got an UR card for Barbatos today and immediately thought back to this scenario cause I was just imagining the different situations with Doll!MC. Hope you enjoy!

Also, Luke’s part is strictly platonic, just FYI!

The Undateables (Minus Diavolo) with Doll!MC

Barbatos

Let me just say, you make this man’s day so much better

Your presence is just so calming for him. You could just be standing there (which is heavily enforced in the kitchen), not doing anything, and he would still be fully relaxed

Definitely loves you being in the kitchen with him, and will find ways to invite you so that you guys can spend time together

“MC, the young master has a tea party planned for this afternoon, and I’m afraid I may need your assistance to help prepare.”

“But Barb, I thought you didn’t want me touching anything-”

“I don’t want you touching anything that can cause you harm. I can easily handle the labor, but I do have a task for you...”

Cue to you sitting perfectly still and taste testing his sweets

“Barb, are you sure that I’m helping you like this? I don’t want to be useless to you!”

“Nonsense, MC. This is perfect. I needed someone with an exceptional palette, and you’re just the right person for me.”

Just you and him, and his sweet creations. What more could he ask for?

Maybe being in a relationship with you, but he is very sure that it’s going to be happening in the near future...and he didn’t even have to use his powers to know that

He stares at you a lot. He can’t help it, he loves to just admire you!

Barbatos is the type of guy where he doesn’t have to rely on words to express his love. His love language is acts of service: packing you lunch and extra sweets every week, giving you recipes that he wouldn’t even share with Luke, and gifting you mini accessories that you can wear with your outfits!

He gave you this adorable three-legged crow holding a cupcake hairpin and you’ve been wearing it ever since

He tries to hide his blush everytime he sees you and now he has to work even harder because of the pin lmao

HAVING YOUR OWN TEA PARTIES WEEKLY

You both have a designated day and time where you don’t plan anything in order to have your own tea parties

No Diavolo, no noisy demon brothers, no other exchange students (sorry Luke). Just you and him, enjoying each other’s company and him basking in your glow

If someone did try to harm you, he would already know of it and properly disposes of the problem. Lord Diavolo can’t afford to have any issues interfering with the exchange program, and he can’t afford to have anything happen to you so...no harm no foul, right?

Please continue to do what you’re doing MC. Stare at him with your bright, doe eyes and give him that lively smile everytime. It makes his day go by much easier, especially since he knows that you’ll still be there, waiting for him with your own desserts and that smile reserved just for him

Simeon

Was convinced that you were an angel

Lowkey still convinced that you’re an angel

Really, you just look so...angelic

Wasn’t upset when you revealed that you were in fact human; he was happy because this meant that he could show you around the Celestial Realm!

Speaking of Celestial Realm, be prepared for Simeon to be your very own personal tour guide everytime. This could be your 50th time up there and he’ll still try to point new things out

“And over here is-”

“Michael’s favorite resting place, since the lilies always seem to bloom whenever he’s around,” you giggled. “I remember Simeon, you tell me this everytime we visit!”

He’s a tad embarrassed

“Forgive me, MC. It seems that I get so elated over the fact that you’re here with me, I tend to repeat some things over.”

“That’s okay! I still have fun with you everytime!”

Oh MC, you’re too adorable!

Which causes him to worry over you. While he knows that the brothers and Diavolo (along with Barbatos) wouldn’t dare cause you any distress, the same couldn’t be said for the other demons lurking around, both in and out of RAD

But not to fear, Simeon your friendly guardian angel is here!

I am so sorry for the rhyme lmao

He may not have been personally assigned to you, but that doesn’t mean he can just let anything happen to you! He’s only doing his heavenly duties in protecting you! He’s also being a good friend by watching over you too, his little lamb

He wouldn’t attack anyone, but if he made a complaint or a very serious concern to the right person (Lucifer or Diavolo), consider the problem handled

You have your own tea time as well, and Luke would join you sometimes. But, every now and then, Luke would have to finish some homework or study, or Barbatos would miraculously call for him at the castle, or if it was just too late and Luke just had to go to sleep, then it would just be you two. Sitting by the fireplace, discussing matters ranging from RAD to your life in the human world, drinking tea that you would take turns preparing

Not to mention the downright dainty little cakes you would bring. One time you brought him angel cakes and he found so lighthearted and precious that he requested you bring them everytime, just for him

May or may not base a character in his new story around you

Simeon wants to shield you from the horrors that are surrounding you both. You’re so pure, he just wants you safe. From the way that you would dress to the way that your eyes would just look so amazed and innocent at him, he just knows that he needs to watch over you, always. The brothers do get a little wary when they see how much time you do spend at Purgatory Hall, but they know that Simeon couldn’t possibly have feelings for you, and you were always so giddy after leaving there, they couldn’t bring themselves to say anything

And Simeon knew that he was starting to feel more than he should. He couldn’t profess his love for you now in risk of falling, but he can wait until you get your wings. Just imagining you in your cute little Ceslestial Realm outfit (which he hopes still mimicked your current style) with your very own beaming halo was enough to keep him waiting and to make sure that you stayed on the right path

He deemed that you were worth the wait

Luke

BFFs! BFFs!

When he first saw you he could just cry

Someone innocent like you got sent down here with these monsters?! He had to keep you safe!!!

Simeon thought you were angel and then realized that you were not; Luke thought you were an angel and refused to believe that you weren’t

You didn’t have it in you to burst his bubble so soon, so you just let him run with it until Simon broke the news

It was like telling a kid that Santa Claus wasn’t real; you can only imagine how Luke took the revelation

Not well from what Solomon told you. Simeon kept saying he just needs some time to process things, and you just felt so awful about the whole thing

Which lead to you bringing him so much sweets that it made Beel jealous and very upset

But we all know how Beel can be around food, so it wasn’t a huge surprise. He chased you around all day and you had to use your pact to get him to stop!

And you promised to make him double the sweets in he forgave you so all is well

Luke was still obviously sad, but he wasn’t going to stay sad forever. Especially not after you brought this many sweets just for him!

Lucifer was not a happy demon when Simeon arrived at the HoL’s doorstep with you groaning and clutching your stomach. And Solomon took so many pictures of Luke while he passed out from his sugar high that he dedicated a whole album in his phone to it

Favorite activity to do together: Baking! (Obviously)

Trading recipes, shopping for ingredients together, baking things for each other to try (where really it was just to have double the desserts)

When you two are in the kitchen together, no one else is allowed (except for Simeon, but only if he’s looking and not touching). It’s now MC and Luke time, everybody else is gonna have to wait!

Luke only wants you to do the the activities that he sees as harmless: which is everything that doesn’t include sharp items and anything else that can hurt you

“MC get away from that! That can seriously hurt you! Let me get it for you instead!

“Luke, honey, it’s just an oven it’s not my first time using one-”

Too late, he already took it out of your hands into his own, mitts already on

Speaking of oven mitts

You guys have matching aprons and mitts!!

Barbatos may be a little bit jealous, but he likes the bond that you two have. And he knows that Luke won’t be a romantic rival so he’s alright lol

Luke is your deemed protector/bodyguard, and he proudly wears the title since no one bothers you because of him (or so he thinks). Everyone makes fun of him calling him a chihuahua, but jokes on him, when Luke complains, he complains

Won’t take long for Simeon or even one of the brothers to pick up on his whines complaints if he thinks someone is bothering you

Luke believes that while he’s small, he can protect you and try to keep you free from danger. He may be young, but he sees himself as the older brother out of you both (even though it’s really you being the older sibling and him being the baby). Always looking out for you especially since you’re too fragile to be left alone!

You’re one of the only people that genuinely likes him and don’t make fun of him. You’re dear to him MC, please don’t ever change!

Also, he definitely talks to Michael about you all the time so excitedly and sends him sweets that you both made together. Michael is a proud dad at this point

Solomon

Knew you wasn’t a doll but loved to tease you about being one anyway

Was there a spell that can really turn you into a doll? You wouldn’t mind if he tried it out on you, right MC?

Don’t tempt him please because he WILL do it

“Tell me, MC. Hypothetically speaking, if I were to purchase-”

“No Solomon, you can’t shrink me down to fit me into a dollhouse, no matter how nice it sounds. Besides, I can’t bake in a dollhouse, the oven wouldn’t work!”

“I can fix that.”

You’re very amusing to him for some reason. Was it because of how doll-like you are? The fairytale way that you dressed? How you were still human and was able to live with seven of the most powerful demons and not die? Maybe it’s the way that you still radiated such positivity despite being in literal Hell?

Honestly all of the above

TEACHING HIM HOW TO COOK/BAKE

Poor Solomon doesn’t realize that his cooking isn’t...the best

And you took the best approach in helping him atleast cook something that looks edible

You didn’t say his cooking was disgusting like some people (literally everyone else), so he took that you giving him lessons was a date of sorts

He wasn’t complaining. Your time spent in the kitchen was scenes straight of a romcom (no matter how cheesy it sounds); his arms wrapped around your waist and dotting icing on your pretty nose

May or may not have licked some icing off of you at one point, will definitely do it again

Solomon is a very confident man, borderline arrogant (Oh who am I kidding he IS arrogant). So yes, while people may see you as an easy target, he’s here to remind them that you’re not. And that if they want to try, chances are they won’t be walking away in one piece

He’s powerful, too powerful in fact. He may not be the strongest physically, but if even the entire student council recognizes his knowledge and what he’s capable of, no one should be dumb enough to test him (keyword: try)

But he wouldn’t mind showing off if it’s for you

You’re one of the only beings to ever peak Solomon’s interest genuinely. Yes, he loved to tease and bug you whenever he pleased, but you also made him want to come around you more and more. He was drawn to you, and that doesn’t happen a lot with him (at least without ulterior motives)

*coughcough* making pacts *coughcough*

You were the only thing that made Solomon feel weak, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Don’t get him wrong, he’s still The Greatest Sorcerer, but he couldn’t help but feel himself get weak in the knees when you gazed at him with so much sincerity. He loves it and loves you

Once your back in the human world, he’s going to be so selfish with you. I mean, he already kinda was now, but this time there won’t be any interruptions or distractions around to take your attention

Us humans have to stick together, and what better way to stick together than to be together, wouldn’t you say MC?

[maozne18]

Won't You Press Your Sweet Lips To Mine

Author's Notes: What more can I say except I love them. God but Lavi teaching Noa how to dance is so sexy damn, need me a man like that

Word Count: 5.8K

Pairing: Lavinho x Noel Noa

Content Warnings: Alcohol, alcohol intoxication, dancing, flashbacks, the euro captains are all idiots and Marc has to keep them in check, kissing, implied sexual content ig?

On AO3

From time to time, some of the euro captain's get together and have a nice dinner to blow some steam off. They get to playfully bicker and fight without hard feelings or the players underneath them to take things too seriously. Lavinho always brings life to the party and reinvigorates their tired spirits, Noa is always ready to give advice to Loki who is new to the job and has been making a few mistakes, along with Chris Prince who always tries to get with a new woman every time and Marc Snuffy who tries to keep the order in the mists of so many different personalities clashing together.

"Lavi, stop drinking too much" Noa starts as he warns his college "like I was saying, if you have trouble keeping them in order even after threatening them, throw footballs at them"

"Are you sure?" Loki nervously asks as he hears about such an unusual method.

"Worked for me, show them your strength by force" Noa simply shrugs his shoulders as he eyes Lavinho filling his cup, yet again, to the brim with wine.

"Enough" he grabs the glass cup to put it back on the table but Lavinho whines in protest.

"Stop being such a party pooper Mr. Cyborg" Lavinho sighs as he sinks down in his chair, bored out of his mind that he can't even drink now.

"I am not a party pooper" Noa scoffs as he rolls his eyes.

"Yes you are! Marc, tell him!" Lavinho calls forth another of the captains for backup.

"I am not getting into that, but you should ease on the alcohol, man" Snuffy also chugs down a cup of wine.

"Is fine, I have a high alcohol tolerance" Lavinho snorts.

"Yeah, and how did last time go?" Chris interrupts as he comes back to the table after trying to get a woman's number by the bar.

"I never heard this story" Loki's eyes sparkle as he is rather new to being invited; he still hasn't witnessed the adults' risky behavior since they tend to ease on their drinks with a minor around.

"It all turned out well didn't it?" Lavinho closes his eyes as he takes off his tie that has been suffocating him for some time and throws it at Marc, who, had it not been for Loki, would have started a brawl already.

"You called me at eight in the morning to take you to the emergency room," Noa recalls Lavi.

"I was feeling a little sick, why didn't you take me?" Lavinho now turns the question to his rival.

"I was at the airport, almost embarking to go to England with Prince."

"And?" Noa rubs his eyes, not wanting to relieve that dreaded night.

"Tell me more!" Loki asks, and someone will deliver, after all he's their beloved junior.

"Well," Chris cannot deny he is dying to tell this story to someone and ruin Lavinho's pristine reputation as a lover that does not match his own, he starts recalling the event "it went something like this."

Chris then proceeds to start telling a story of about five years ago when they already knew each other vaguely, they went out a few times before that night and had started to get more comfortable with each other, they went to a night club and they all started drinking, dancing and chatting with women like they usually did. This particular time Noa started complaining that the music was too loud so he decided to go earlier to his hotel room and warned Chris to not go too late since they had a plane to catch.

"Now this is where it starts to get confusing" Chris laughs nervously.

"Not it doesn't," Marc steps in and starts telling the story before The Hero starts ruining it.

Chris, jealous at how well Lavinho got along well with the women at the club, challenged the Brazilian to a drinking contest. They already had quite a few drinks in but both agreed to it and with Marc as their referee they started chugging left and right everything the bartender threw their way, including a few cocktails that by themselves were fine but the way they were mixing them in their stomachs and livers, they would be lucky to not end up hospitalized by the end of the night. 

Chris and Lavinho were tied at fifteen drinks and neither seemed to be giving out, in the middle of chugging his sixteenth drink the British man’s eyes caught a girl walking by him with a cheeky smile. As he puts down his drink and chases the girl leaving the Brazilian leading the competition. After Chris got rejected and stumbled his way back to the bar the competition had already finished and Lavinho was pronounced the winner as he made his way to the dance floor, slipping out from Marc’s hold. Chris leans on the wooden surface as he asks for a pint from the bartender, but before being able to be served, falls down on the floor face first.

Eventually, Marc saw people worrying about Lavinho's state and the fact that he could barely stand and decided it's best if they left, and had to carry him out of the bar on top of his shoulders while he dragged Chris by the collar in another hand. He managed to put Chris alone on a cab but before he could call Noa to warn him, he needed to get Lavinho who was nearly vomiting on his shoulder. He got into another cab with Lavinho and as he was calling Noa, Lavinho vomited and ruined the entire car. Leaving a speechless Marc and a furious cab driver fuming at Lavinho who was only giggling, not yet knowing how hard the night was going to get from now on.

"Hello?" Noa's tone is groggy and annoyed that he was awoken from his rest.

"He's on his way, right?" Noa sighs as he gets up and grabs his robe, hearing the silent breathing from Marc and Lavinho giggling as some voice he doesn't recognize yells at the two of them, he can only piece together that Marc has sent Chris on his way to the hotel.

"How were you not sued?" Loki interrupts, extremely baffled.

"As you're one of the best in the world comes something else with it, money" Chris laughs as Marc resumes.

Marc managed to get to Lavinho's hotel and he had to ask the employees there to get some much needed pills, water and extra towels. The people working there, upon seeing Snuffy carry their guest over his shoulders and whining in protest slightly at this late hour, immediately figure out what is happening and scourge away to find their oldest towels. Marc lays Lavinho on the bed who falls asleep right then and there. A maid quickly comes after him and lays a few towels on the bathroom and puts water and a variety of pills on the bedside table. As much as Marc wants to stay and help he needs to go home and rest so he leaves the Brazilian to his own devices.

"Will he be fine?" The maid whispers-asks him to which Marc only shrugs.

"He'll live," he chuckles as they make their way down the elevator.

"That's it? I thought there was more" Loki asks, a little underwhelmed.

"Now is our part again!" Chris winks at Loki and points to Noa.

Prince continues once again where Marc left off, he got around four hours of sleep before Noa woke him up saying they had fifteen minutes to get to the airport, Chris rushed to get dressed before collapsing in the toilet and letting everything come back up from last night. Noa only sighs as he berates him but keeps thinking about how Lavinho, who has a higher tolerance but won't back down from a challenge, is doing. Chris somehow gets dressed with the help of Noa and they arrive at the airport at eight in the morning sharp. The Hero went to find a bench he could put his hood up and lay down until they boarded and get an extra two hours of sleep. Noa returns with a water bottle that he tucks in between the hangover player's hands and sits next to him. He is jolted from his thinking when his phone starts vibrating and when he sees the name 'Idiot' pop up he sighs.

"Noa…" Lavinho whines on the other side.

"Don't."

"Please-" Lavinho's pleas are interrupted by him puking his guts out of the toilet that makes Noa slightly uneasy.

"I am at the airport" he makes it very clear that this time he won't go help him.

"It feels like I'm dying…"

"You always say that"

"..." Silence accompanies that statement as he hears Lavinho breath tiredly from probably throwing up all night long, and he almost considers going to help him before the Brazilian starts throwing up again and he hangs the call, not being able to hear those wretched sounds, if he hears Lavinho complain once more he would run to the hotel and he cannot miss this flight, he already has one drunkard to deal with and that is quite enough for him. He decides to text Marc to warn him that Lavinho is in bad condition.

Marc arrives half an hour later to an…unusable hotel room is the best way to describe it. The smell intoxicated the closed division, the bed was a mess with half of it covered in vomit, the carpet also had a few blotches of the substance that made Marc hesitate to enter the room, Lavinho was laying down on the cold hard floor of the bathroom breathing heavily.

"Oi, you good?" Marc makes his way towards him while avoiding stepping on anything gross and he looks down at Lavinho who has his eyes closed.

"Noa?" Lavinho whines as he blinks rapidly to try and understand who is on his side, calling and snapping their fingers on his face.

"Okay buddy, up we go" Marc sees Lavinho's pale face but high temperature and decides it's better to get him to a hospital, it's better not to risk losing him to alcohol intoxication. He manages to clean him as best as he can before dressing him and taking another cab to the emergency room and leaving no one to pay or justify the damages to the room.

"How is he?" Noa asks as he starts grabbing his things, with him almost embarking on the plane, he needs to make sure Lavi is doing better.

"He's already getting fluids, and Chris?" Marc says as he waits in the reception hall.

"Vomited three times in two hours, let's see if he can hold up on the flight" Noa sighs as he shakes his head.

"Alright, good luck" Marc laughs "oh yeah" Noa perks up as he was getting ready to turn off the call.

"He was calling for you" he can sense the shit eating grin Marc was wearing but he does not have patience for dumbassery.

"When is he not calling for me" he shakes his head before finally turning off the call and boarding.

"And how did it end?" Loki asks a little flabbergasted that these two would cause so much havoc just from a few drinks.

"Chris vomited the entire flight and the smell on the plane was excruciating" Noa closes his eyes as he remembers the pain from it.

"Lavinho was down for an entire week, luckily it was during our off season" Marc laughs.

"Were you always that attached to Noa?" Loki pries old wounds and despite not saying an entire word during the story he now perks up.

"Never, that's all their lies!" Lavinho slams his fist at the table and squints at the two who were telling the story.

"Yes" Marc and Chris answer unanimously, having known each other for at least ten years now. Loki now looks at Noa who seems to be more interested in checking the time on his clock, counting the seconds until he can finally give an excuse to go home and rest.

"Just to prove how well I am!" Lavinho abruptly stands up, dragging the chair behind him as he takes out his blazer and rolls his sleeves up.

"Literally no one asked you to prove-"

"I am going to dance!" Lavinho interrupts Marc who now only rubs his eyes tiredly.

"Any excuse to dance, I see" Loki sees the Brazilian wonkily head towards the dance floor in the middle of the restaurant as he lets the music take over his body.

"Just ignore him, he only wants attention," Chris reminds Loki.

"He does know how to dance, '' Noa comments before focusing on his watch again. That comment caught everyone around the table off guard, seeing how Noa rarely compliments his rival. But their eyes quickly turn to Lavi once again as they see him arrive at the dance floor. He starts with a little samba to loosen up and warm up. They all pay attention to see if the Brazilian falls flat on his feet but surprisingly, he actually moves on beat to the music and does not even wobble. Of course no matter how well Lavi dances, an ambience song will not do for this body so he sways his way to the booth and requests a song which the DJ does not have so he scrambles to hop on youtube and give this VIP customer what he wants.

Lavi gets in position as the music starts to come out of the speakers, all eyes on him as usual and the captains all smile mischievously and wait anxiously on what he will dance today. Lavinho starts moving his hips and elbows extremely well on beat to the sound, giggles can be heard as people focus on his starting moves. The music choice is a salsa dance which makes most people that know their stuff wonder why he chose a pair song if he has no pair. A few girls take the opportunity and join Lavinho hoping they can get a shot at dancing with such a person. But he pays them no mind, shortly moving around with them but not picking any definite partner, with so many lady's alone, the gentleman will join soon after and within a few minutes the dance floor is already filled with couples doing their best at dancing impromptu. Lavinho goes to each of them and gives a few tips before resuming to dance alone much to everyone's curiosity. Chris, seeing the Brazilian get so much female attention with little to no effort, whines in jealousy as he grips the table so hard his knuckles turn white.

"I don't know how he does it" Chris whispers as he puts a fist in front of his face, ready to bite down on it to muffle any screaming he might do.

"Oh, he's coming here, '' Loki remarks. Lavinho does not say anything, only points to a surprised Chris who immediately stands up. Lavi takes Chris away as he grabs his hips and tells him how to move.

"Just feel the music, man" he says as he dances backwards to his stage and leads Chris to a woman waiting for a partner. The woman becomes very excited when she sees Lavi coming her way but visibly sighs when he brings someone else with him and leaves Chris with her. Lavi goes away once more leaving Chris with a chance to get someone's number.

"Is he playing matchmaker?" Loki laughs as he sees everything that has been going down.

"Not quite sure myself, I've never seen him do this before" Marc says, extremely curious.

"Will he dance all alone though?" Loki asks as he cocks his head slightly.

"He will find someone eventually" Noel says as he puts down his glass of champagne down "time for me to go." Noel stands up but Lavi notices it and goes to the table once again.

"Not on my watch, cyborg" he laughs as he grabs Noel by the tie and drags the strict Noel along with him as he laughs teasingly.

"Lavi, you know I don't dance" Noel looks down at the Brazilian who has his hand wrapped tightly around his navy blue tie.

"You will tonight, grandpa" He replies as he finds a comfortable spot in the middle of so many dance partners.

"Who will you pair me up with then" Noel sighs in defeat as he looks around to the women around the room, none of which peak his interest.

"Me" Lavi raises his eyebrow in a teasing manner as he gets them both in position. He takes Noel's right hand on his left one and puts the latter's left hand on his shoulder. He puts his own right hand firmly on Noel's shoulder blade.

"Just follow my lead" he explains when he sees the French give him a side glare and a slight discontent pout.

"One, two, three" he says as he follows the rhythm and tries to get Noel to loosen up. In every single way that he tries Noel to move the man feels stiff and rusty. He breaks their stance by bringing Noel's hips closer to his, he places his hands on each side as he tries to maneuver to the way they should rotate.

"Lavi, it's pointless, I can't dance" Noel says as he does his best but knowing defeat when he senses it, especially on something as dancing.

"Shh, just listen" Lavi looks at him as he points to his own ears, then puts his hands back and moves them along. Noel starts to get the hang of it, even if it's still extremely awkward.

"Just like that" Lavi laughs as he resumes their position again and has an easier time leading Noel's stiff hips and shoulders.

"I can even smell how drunk you are" Noel scrunches his nose up, it's actually amazing that Lavi could round up this many people, find them matches all while he is dancing and teaching at the same time, all while he is as drunk as a skunk.

"That's not me, that's my cologne."

"Odd choice of cologne then."

"I know, I need to talk to my manager about it." Lavi laughs as continues to only do small dance steps to get Noel used to dancing. Now that he feels Noel is more comfortable he takes Noel and spins him around in place that nearly makes him surprised, when he returns to his stance with huge, wide eyes, he spins Noel in the opposite direction.

"What was that?" Noel says with an expression as if he was caught right in the headlights.

"That's what fun is, you need to loosen up, cyborg" Lavi coos as he now drops Noel’s body to the floor, stopping a few centimeters above ground as he holds on tight. Lavi laughs as he sees Noel’s expression change from scared to surprised, and his coloration changing from red to white. Lavi returns both of Noel’s feet to the ground.

“Are you perhaps trying to teach me Salsa?” Noel raises an eyebrow as he starts catching up to Lavi’s drunk brain.

“Trying is the keyword” Lavi wraps his arm around Noel and lifts him slightly off the ground and twirls him once before planting him on the ground “you are heavier than you look” Lavi huffs out of breath.

“That’s not something to say to the world's best” Noel starts to loosen up both in body and mind as the alcohol starts affecting him, Lavi laughs hysterically at what he's seeing. 

“Those two actually get along?” Loki says as he continues watching from afar along with Marc.

“I don’t get it myself as well, let’s go” Marc smacks Loki’s arms as he gets up from his table and finds a girl to dance with. Loki gets up as well and soon finds himself surrounded by girls wanting to dance with him.

The song ends and the DJ follows up with another song as he sees the numerous pairs not wanting to stop dancing just yet, he puts on a slower paced song to give everyone a breather from the previous dance. The saxophone playing arrives at Lavi’s ears as he closes his eyes and changes the tempo of his dancing. He drags his hands over Noel’s chest as he slides his blazer off, he opens his eyes again as he gives a sly smile but Noel does not protest at all and helps out as he then throws the blazer somewhere behind his back. Lavi’s hands now slide to Noel’s hips as he tells him how to move to this slower pace, which he figures should be easier for him.

“Bend your knees” he pulls Noa closer to himself  and fits their hips closer together, he keeps one hand on the hip and relaxes his other arm, rotating their hips together. Noel, not knowing where to put his arms and feeling awkward, puts them around Lavi’s neck. The usually quiet and composed man is feeling extremely out of place in the middle of the dance floor, even with Lavi easing him into it, he can still feel the numerous eyes on his back. He also knows how popular Lavi is with women so there must be some jealousy going on.

"Have you run out of moves?" Noel asks in a teasing manner and Lavi looks surprised at him, but it quickly turns into a cocky grin as he uses his free hand to pull one of the French man's legs up to his hip and lowers Noel's upper body once again. Noel goes along with it and rises his upper body much slowly before Lavi returns his leg to the floor.

"I always have something cooking, '' Lavi whispers as he brings Noel impossibly closer, their bodies almost touching as their heads now come closer than before. Noel can feel Lavi's warm breath on his face and the way his hand is digging into his hip as if wanting to close the already small distance between their bodies. He starts to feel it too, the urge to just pull Lavi close to his body and end this feeling blooming inside his body that is making his body tingle with anticipation. But, the thing holding him back is the thought that Lavi must do this with everyone he dances with. Lavi could never want someone as dull and boring as himself so he holds back and puts a few centimeters of distance between them, despite Lavi not being quite happy with this action, who only looks at his expression puzzled, wanting to know what's going on inside Noel's head for the sudden hesitation.

"Backing out now?" Lavi coos in a teasing manner.

"Mhm, it's getting late" Noel answers, even though his adrenaline is as high as in a football game and even if he went home at this instance, he wouldn't be able to sleep.

"Tell me what's the issue, dear cyborg" Lavi asks Noel to tell him what's bothering him, without cutting corners. Noel states at the Brazilian for a few minutes before cracking.

"There are a lot of women who have their eyes on you" he grumbles under his breath but Lavi hears it loud and clear, his eyes grow big before a smile takes over his features.

"The great Noel Noa getting jealous?" He asks as he raises an eyebrow.

"I'm not jealous, they are just dying to get to you" Noel looks around the room to the women who are dying to jump in as soon as Lavi lets go of his partner.

"Then answer me this" Lavi coos "who do I have my eyes on?" He asks Noel who only looks around the room and he laughs lighty.

"I do not know, '' the composed man answers after swiping a look around the room but does not see any that fit Lavi's taste.

"Who do I have my hands wrapped around?" Lavi asks an easier question, hoping Noel will eventually catch up to him. Noel looks down at Lavi and feels the hand on his hip dig even deeper into his flesh and his eyes grow large and his mind becomes blank as he caughts up to what the Brazilian is implying. He does not know how to reply so he grows quiet and stares dead ahead at Lavi's bleached hair that is combed back with gel. Lavi takes a step forward and lets Noel's upper body go down once again.

"Tell me who I want to devour right now" Lavi's expression turns calm and dangerous as he whispers to Noel who can only stare at his fiery eyes, not being able to formulate a proper answer. Lavi raises his dance partner to stand after waiting for a reply that never came, he pouts in disappointment but lets it go either way, if Noel does not want more than friendship with him, he will not keep pushing.

Noel, despite not showing it, feels extremely hot, moving around for around six minutes in a tight button up that left him sweating, and to add fuel to the fire, Lavi is basically confessing his affection to him and he cannot process what he just heard. He suddenly breaks his position and goes away, leaving Lavi all alone on the dance floor, his face changing between disappointed to surprised. Noel goes towards the bathroom in the back but only leans on the hallway that leads to it to catch his breath. Lavinho quickly composes himself and chases after him.

“You can tell me no and I’ll go right away” Lavi leans on the opposite wall towards Noel. The corridor is small and tight, two people can fit easily with a few centimeters of distance, the ground is carpeted and somewhat muffled Lavi's arrival but Noel knew the Brazilian would give chase. He opens his eyes and looks at him.

“It’s not that '' he tries explaining, but he himself doesn't know what he wants and feels. He is so used to shutting everyone out he isn't quite sure if he is ready for someone like Lavi, who is so affectionate and handsy.

“If you don’t tell me, I won’t know” Lavi sighs as he crosses his arms. He likes Noel alright, no matter how much he tries to deny it, he likes him, he likes the person that is supposed to be his rival and he should hate, but he can't bring himself to do so. And he likes to think he knows the cold man in front of him well enough to know that this must be hard for him to get and articulate. That is why he came after him, he will spend the rest of the night stuck in this place if it means helping Noel expressing what he feels and wants, even if it is rejection, he likes him so much he will suck up that pain to give him a hand.

“I know, I just need…time” Noel finally blurts out as he closes his eyes and runs a hand through his shortly trimmed hair. Lavi understands this and gives him whatever time he might need.

"I can't think with you here" Noel finally arrived at the conclusion upon much thinking, as he rubs his eyes.

"If I leave, you will avoid me for who knows how long and I will never get a clear answer" Lavinho reminds the man across from him that it's easier to get this over with right now than to delay and make them both suffer "just say no" the Brazilian sighs as he starts admiring defeat in his mind.

"I don't know if that's what I want" Noel looks at the ceiling, if only he could have a little more heart, if he only he could change something in himself, in the way that he has grown up, to find anything inside him capable of realizing romantic feelings and if he can reciprocate what Lavi wants to give to him.

"Then, "Lavinho pries himself off the wall and puts his right hand next to Noel's face to support himself and bring their faces closer, once again "what do you want?" He whispers to Noel who only looks at him with the same cold and distant look as always. But that coldness is something Lavinho can tolerate, get used to and melt. 

"I-" the cold man takes a deep breath as he examines Lavi's features, his large oval eyes shine even in the dark, his eyebrows furrowed most likely losing patience and his lips slightly parted, as if still recovering from the dancing they were doing just a few minutes ago. And just like then, Noel starts feeling every inch of his body begging to pull Lavi closer and take him for himself, however, unlike then, they are now away from prying eyes. His body moves before he can realize it as he pulls Lavi's face closer to his and joins their lips. He pushes his back off of the wall and slams Lavi's own against the opposing wall. The ramboutious man does not protest in the slightest as his hands go down to Noel's middle.

"Could have said so" Lavinho parts their lips slightly and smirks.

"I don't feel like talking" Noel cradles Lavi's face to the side for easier access as he joins their lips once again. The Brazilian pulls the French closer as his hold on his torso increases. Lavi can tell Noel's moves are hesitant and inexperienced just like his dancing, but he knows that under the right guidance he will have the european melting under his touch in no time. He wastes no time in sliding his hands down and giving Noel's ass a good squeeze, the French man doesn't protest and in a mood to be cheeky, bites down Lavi's lower lip to the point of drawing blood, before licking it clean. Lavi moans in delight, loving this audacious move. 

He plays with Noel's ass for a few minutes before letting his hands slide upwards and arrive at his incredibly wide and muscled back, he has never been with someone with more muscle than himself and feeling all those muscles work, wrap around him and guide him is doing things to his brain he didn't know was possible. He is loving Noel's left hand pulling his waist closer and he can only smile into the kiss in content. Suddenly Noel starts dragging his hand down to his thigh and caressing it a few times before grabbing it and pulling it upwards to wrap around his hips. Lavi sighs, the alcohol and Noel's forward attitude combined are not doing any good for him but he just can't get enough of him. He starts kissing Noel's jaw line and nibbling slightly on it before taking the pale earlobe in between his teeth as he tugs and yanks on it making the French man make surprised noises as he smiles. He lets the lobe be free but that doesn't mean his neck will escape, upon seeing such a pale neck he can't help but want to bruise and leave his mark all over Noel as he kisses gently on the skin, he then starts exploring fully, biting down on the skin and letting his teeth graze the skin that is starting to get very colorful. He sucks, bites and tugs at the sensitive skin as he starts to drag whines and moans out of Noel's throat that make him extremely horny is the only way to put him. He takes a step back to admire the blemishes he put on the latter's neck as he smiles proudly at himself.

Noel takes advantage of Lavi pulling back so he can join their lips once again, and introduce his tongue. Lavi joins their lips once more and Noel asks for permission to which the Brazilian gladly gives and allows. He melts exploring Lavi's mouth and battling for dominance with the other tongue. Wet and sloppy is how he can describe it as he moans back into Lavi's mouth. His hand never stops caressing the suited thigh that is resting by his side, he has seen these legs in action so much that now that he's finally touching and squeezing them, he feels like he's in heaven. Lavi gives a few small jumps and he opens his eyes with a frown on his face trying to see what he's up to, but before he knows it, Lavi gains enough balance and jumps on top of him, wrapping his right leg around his waist. Noel is caught off guard and his back goes slamming against the wall as he takes two steps back. He recomposes himself and grabs Lavi by the ass to hold him steady as the Brazilian now bosses around the way they kiss and make out. Noel is feeling a little uncomfortable with the way his knees are almost bent to a ninety degree angle with Lavi weighing down on him, but he doesn't mind it one bit. In fact he is thinking about taking Lavi into the bathroom and getting out of these tight clothes so they can have even more fun. And by the way Lavi is behaving he likes to think there would be no protests coming from the Brazilian. He is just about to ask Lavi if he wants to go somewhere else but he hears someone coughing, he looks to the side and sees someone standing two meters from them. He stops kissing Lavi, but he must have not noticed the person as his mouth returns to his neck and as much as he wants him to continue he should stop him.

"Lavi." He says, with his monotone voice cutting the thick air in the hallway.

"What is it baby?" Lavi continues kissing him passionately with no care in the world but then the person coughs again and Lavi finally notices that they are not alone.

"I've been standing here for like a minute, could you guys go somewhere else?" Chris says, visibly distressed with a shaky voice.

"Aw, poor guy has never seen two adults getting it on," Lavi says with a mocking voice as he laughs, still very much wrapped in Noel's arms who puts him down gently.

"I have!" Chris says, not wanting to be made fun of by Lavinho.

"You have?!" Lavi says with his theatrics coming back "look out, we have a creep here!" Lavi accuses Chris who only looks desperate, not knowing how to win over Lavi in arguments, he switches his eyes between Lavi and Noel who only seems to be trying to hold in his laughter.

"I am not!" He defends himself.

"Whatever you say, creep" Lavi passes by him, dragging Noel behind him by the hand. "Let's get out of here" he coos to Noel who's eyes seem to grow large with lust and he laughs. Lavi and Noel leave the restaurant at that moment, leaving the bill, clothes and crowd of dancing people to their peers.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Jealousy Isn't Good

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Tom Holland (characters) x fem!Reader (Arvin Russell and Peter Parker)

Words: 1953

Summary (requested by @peeves6261427): “jealous tom/arvin/peter where the reader knows they’re jealous and tries to tease them but then tom/arvin/peter just go FULL dom” 

Warnings: jealousy, smut, fluff, dom!Tom Holland (+ characters mentioned)

A/N - I fucking love a good angsty + smutty imagine... hope you like just as much as I did writing it AHAHA :) x 

TOM HOLLAND: 

Now, when it came to Tom’s jealous side, he was terribly awful at hiding it.

To your complete surprise, it was actually a recurring thing... It wasn't that Tom had trust issues, he just would notice how others would try to “flirt with you”, according to him.  

However, you struggled to see this and saw no harm in these interactions, as most of the time you believed people were just being friendly. 

When he did become jealous he acted like a complete, stubborn child.

He would give you short, sharp answers, always be temperamental. 

Often in the moment you’d catch him making quick glances at you as you’d be talking to whomever. 

He’d take a deep breath in, his fists would clench to the point his knuckles turned white. 

“Tom, love, you’re doing it again...” 

Tom knew how to calm himself, however his mood would be foul for the day. 

He had a reputation to hold and did not want to jeopardise that, even if it took him all his strength to not even speak against it. 

He really hated the way some would stare at you, eyeing you up and down, especially at premieres where you were all dolled up. 

Tom would become super protective, especially amongst places where there were crowds upon crowds of people: you found that his arm would always be tightly wrapped around your waist. 

Occasionally, a verbal fight would even break out between the two of you because of this... Until Tom would realise your perspective. 

“And what about you Tom?! What about the millions of girls across the world that worship you? Do you see me complaining and whining?” 

You were happiest with Tom, and you’d mentioned it repeatedly to him... He knew you were with him for the long run, he just despised the fact that people didn’t realise this. 

He’d be the type that needed reassurance that you only had eyes for him, and to make up for his childish behaviour... Sex was the only answer.  

This also was the best way he could showcase his dominance over you: he was always in complete control when it came to sex, especially after an episode of jealousy. 

Tom would definitely be the type to leave love marks all over you, hickeys were his thing. He’d try not to leave them in obvious places where your skin would be exposed, again for his reputation especially with kids, however on the rare occasion that he’d lose himself... There wasn't nothing that a decent palette of makeup couldn’t cover up!

God sometimes he’d even surprise you with a quick, soft bite on your skin... He was playful like that. 

Definitely loves to spank you, again seeing his red hand-print form on your ass cheek just sparks joy in him like nothing else. 

And Tom, definitely loves being called Daddy. 

Nonetheless, it was a flaw in Tom’s character... He was the jealous type and it was something you were okay to live with. 

ARVIN RUSSELL: 

Now this man... Would literally go off. Not immediately, it would just constantly be building up inside until he could no longer keep the fury bottled up. 

Having to pick up Lenora from school, you also took to this privilege, which always meant Arvin would be waiting right outside for the two of you. He was protective like that. 

He was also, however, an impatient man: thus, on the occasional days that a few of your colleagues took up your time after school for a quick chat, often about an assignment or homework... He’d grown quite enraged. 

Especially due to the fact that he'd rarely see you during the weekdays from being busy with school. He didn’t want to attend and rather just work, although it took a toll very so often that he’d miss you. 

Being such a small town, didn't help the cause, whether it was walking down the street arm in arm, or catching up at the local diner, someone would stop and chat, minimising your time together even more. 

However, the jealousy would strike most with other male counterparts. 

Arvin, according to his own words “knew what these boys in this town were thinking...” 

For his age, and greatly due to his unfortunate circumstances growing up, Arvin mentally and emotionally matured rapidly for his age. 

Physically, he was also quite strong and didn’t hesitate when faced with a threat. 

Especially after the incident with Lenora and the boys at school... Arvin had a reputation that was built on sheer intimidation. No one dared to mess with anything that even remotely “belonged” to him. 

And he’d made it very clear that you were his. 

However on the downside, when a boy was “downright stupid” (again according to Arvin), and took a chance on you, or even tried to take advantage of you... Arvin would violently lash out. 

It was hard to intervene, especially when matters got physical. 

Arvin was obviously the dominant one: he’d precisely plan his attacks, when exactly to strike. 

Word would spread, and yet everyone would keep quiet... Some would even argue that Arvin did the right thing for standing by you.

“I-I just don't want people thinking the wrong things about you, baby.”   

However you did mention how upset you’d become, witnessing Arvin taking matters into his own hands: and worst of all, you’d hate seeing him hurt with minor wounds to show. 

During these times after the altercations, would be the most intimate. Arvin would apologise and promise to try never to lash out again, although you knew that was a lie. 

It was these moments he showed his most vulnerable side: he’d confess to how much you meant to him, how much he wanted to keep you safe and overall, how much he’d love you. 

“You are the absolute world to be Y/N, baby... You need to know I’d do anything for you.” 

Bless him, you thought. You knew violence was never an answer, although considering Arvin’s upbringing, it was mostly all he’d known, all that he was exposed to. 

“God, Arvin... I can take care of myself, you know that. A-And if I do ever get in trouble, you know you’ll be the first one I come to.” 

However what he dreaded the most was being apart from you. The fear that when you weren't together that’s when something terrible would befall you, killed him deep down and regardless of what you said, or no matter how confident you were of protecting yourself... He knew he’d always be there until he planned for the two of you to leave this “godforsaken town.” 

And of course, the sex helped him a lot. 

Arvin was the dominant one in the relationship throughout everything. He felt he needed to be in control, and obviously still took into consideration your thoughts and feelings.

However when it came to matters of life and death or even remotely close to your safety, he took serious. He prioritised your safety over his own, and that said a lot. 

When I tell you this man would have a breeding kink, I meant it: having children did frighten him a little, although the thought of having them with you, made him feel motivated to have a family of his own. 

He loves when you dry hump the fuck out him, seeing how you moan his name as your face to face with one another, the way your tits be jiggling/jumping the more intense you got. 

He preferred to have sex in remote, isolated locations. He preferred to silence and peace of mind. Only being in each other’s company. 

Often the sex happened in his car, and the moments after would be intimate just like after a fight. 

He loved you and you loved him... You both knew you were meant for one another. 

PETER PARKER: 

Having met Pete, there was no way you’d thought there could ever be a bad bone in him, however it seemed even the perfect Peter Parker struggled with a few minor flaws. 

Peter tended to get jealous, however over specific people that he saw as a threat. 

He was extremely calculative, and knew who posed a risk to his relationship with you.

He often wouldn’t speak up about it, letting it slide and seeking advice from Ned and Aunt May on what to do, however they’d often persuade him to believe it was nothing major to worry about, and that you only had eyes for him. 

And they couldn't be more right. 

Peter trusted you greatly, as you did with him. 

He didn't trust the cocky guys that would shoot their shot with you, and often it did infuriate him. 

At nights, when he was out overlooking the city for whoever would need the help of their friendly, neighbourhood Spider-man, he’d take the time to contemplate to himself. 

However, if he got really desperate for some help, he’d even ask his fellow Avengers... Tony wasn't much of a help, he’d just tell him to either spoil the hell out of you, “take her out to a nice restaurant, the chicks dig that intimacy shit.” 

Steve, on the other hand, was actually the most helpful. 

And they had all met you (and adored you), so they knew exactly who Peter was dealing with.

“Just talk to Y/N, I’m sure she’ll be most understanding... Usually when a guy feels this way about a girl, it means you want to take things seriously,” Captain reasoned. 

And from their Peter knew exactly what he had to do. 

Dates was a regular think, you made sure of that! Despite needing to balance school, work and Peter’s hectic life as an Avenger... You both proudly managed well. 

So taking both Tony’s and Capt’s relationship advice into consideration, Peter thought it would be perfect to just say what he needed to say.

“L-Look Y/N... I know I may not often say it or be the perfect boyfriend, but I-I just wanted to say...” 

God you loved how nervous he'd get. 

“What is it Pete?” You intervene with a bright smile on your face, trying to encourage him to just speak his mind. 

And it seemed to have worked, as his tense shoulders had finally relaxed and he returned with a smile. 

“I-I love you, Y/N. I mean, I-I really am so in love with you. It just bothers me that I see you talking to some guys a-and to think that maybe, one day... They might convince you to leave me.” 

Your heart broke silently to a thousand pieces: not only was this the first time Peter actually said the words “I love you”, however to hear that this was what had been worrying him this entire time. 

“Peter, please don’t ever think that! I could nor would I ever, leave someone as brilliant and caring as you... I love you, Pete, you need to know this.” 

And after what would have been the most sacred dates of your life, you knew exactly how to end the perfect night. 

As you both had politely left the restaurant, thanking the staff for their incredible food and service, you turned to Peter, your hands cupping his chiselled face. 

“Now how about you show me just how much you love me, huh?” 

Sex with Peter was often gentle and very personal. 

He wasn't over-the-top in control, always making sure you were comfortable and relaxed. 

However when you both had gotten into the rhythm of things... A whole, new side of him would peak. 

Definitely a boob guy... He’s rough hands would always be massaging your tits, especially when he ate you the fuck out. 

[jaskierek]

Wildflowers

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier had been friends for over two decades before Geralt forced them apart. Afterwards, he’d looked everywhere. The bard was nowhere to be found. Not even magic could find him. What had happened to his friend? ao3

--

Eight years into their partnership, Geralt was commissioned to rid a village of a nasty foglet that had taken up residency in a swamp at the centre of the neighbouring forest. The blacksmith, Filip, lived closest to the forest edge and had three young daughters who he feared for. He had collected money from the villagers in order to afford the Witcher’s services and had insisted on showing Geralt the way. He’d said the forest had many low-lying bogs and marshes, especially during this time of year.

Jaskier had been eager to join the Witcher, despite knowing that his outfit would return ruined, yet he’d been relegated to the role of babysitter.

“Come on, Geralt!” He whined, watching the Witcher swing his swords onto his back and collect the moondust he needed.

“No.” Came the simple response. Jaskier huffed.

“Honestly, why can’t Filip hire someone from the village for a night or leave the kids on their own? It’s not like they’re infants, and there’s three of them for goodness’ sake.”

“All of them have yet to reach the age of ten,” Geralt said in that rumbling voice of his as he walked up to the bard, gear on and a vaguely scolding look on his face, “and why hire someone to babysit when we’ve got a lovely and willing nanny here for free?”

Jaskier’s jaw dropped dramatically and he sputtered, trying to get past the offence and form a coherent sentence in response to Geralt’s shit-eating grin.

“You - I - listen here, Witcher - while I am lovely, there is no - how -“

The Witcher simply patted Jaskier on the head a bit harder than necessary, and stepped out of the room Filip had given them to get prepared.

“Ready?” The blacksmith asked. He stood in the doorway dressed in a thick, wool coat, hood over his head and straw-blonde hair peeking out from under his coif. He held a glass lantern in one hand and a sturdy, steel sword in another.

“You won’t need that.” Geralt grumbled, walking towards the man. Filip took what Jaskier knew to be an involuntary step back. The bard still winced. There was still a ways to go in Geralt’s image rehabilitation he was learning.

“I could help.” Filip countered weakly. Jaskier admired the man’s bravery, most tended to let the Witcher do what needed to be done with no care for his return or survival. Jaskier also didn’t doubt that Filip could have been of help. The man stood tall, with rounded shoulders from years of smithing, the thick coat only making him look bigger. He could definitely have been of help if-

“Silver swords kill beasts, your steel won’t do much harm.” Geralt said, walking past and heading to the door. “Better to just stay out of the way.”

Filip paused for a moment.

“Yes, well, I think I’d like to take it. For my own peace of mind.”

Geralt studied the man over his shoulder before seemingly accepting that there was not much else to say on the subject and the two left. Jaskier tapped his foot uncertainly before running to the door and swinging it open.

“Oi! Witcher! I am very much not willing and this is very much not for free! I am expecting compensation!” He yelled out to the shrinking figures.

“Fuck off, Jaskier.” Jaskier could just make out Geralt’s gruff but amused reply through the whipping of the wind. He smiled and returned inside, only to be faced with three pairs of large brown eyes. Startled a little, he smiled tentatively. Unlike their father, all three girls had reddish-brown hair and gentle features.

“You must be Filip’s daughters.” He said in way of greeting. He received an eerily unison blink. “Right uh…you should be in bed.”

“Where’s daddy gone?” The tallest one to the left asked.

“He…he went to go show his friend something.” Jaskier responded, trying not to worry the children.

“That man is a Witcher.”

Jaskier paused, not really knowing what to say and eventually settling on a slow “yes, he is.”

“Daddy’s not friends with Witchers.”

“Well, he is now.”

“But Witchers can’t have friends.”

“Now that’s just not true. Who told you that?” Jaskier asked, a bit peeved. They just blinked again and didn’t respond. “Ok, well, that’s not true because I’m friends with a Witcher.” He huffed, whether or not the friendship was mutual was still a bit in question for him.

The girls stared at him silently and Jaskier was honestly at a loss. He hadn’t had much experience with children, apart from singing the occasional fairy tale or nursery rhyme.

“Would you like me to play you a song?” He asked, fingers twitching to hold his lute.

“No.” They all said monotonously. Alright, really, were all children this difficult? And this…synchronised?

“You really should be going to bed then.”

“Can you paint?” The smallest one asked suddenly. Jaskier frowned at the question, a bit confused.

Thats how Geralt and Filip found him three hours later. Paints and unfinished artworks scattered around the floor and at the centre of it all, a very colourful bard. He sat on the floor, legs spread out as three auburn-haired little girls stood around him, paintbrushes in hand.

Filip laughed loudly. “I just bought them all paints and parchment two days ago.” He commented, taking his coat off.

“You don’t say.” Jaskier responded sarcastically as one of the girls poked at his temple with a green brush. He had rolled up his sleeves and trousers to give them some more space to work and also to avoid as much paint on his clothes as he could. It hadn’t worked very well as evidenced by the many drips and smears on his purple doublet. His face, arms and legs were covered in mostly yellow smudges, with a couple of green and pink accents here and there.

The girls hadn’t reacted much to their father’s return, nor to the intimidating presence of the Witcher. Speaking of, Geralt was currently leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking very entertained. Jaskier tried to communicate with his eyes that he was in dire need of aid, yet the cruel man did nothing but observe the multicoloured bard and the three little girls dancing around him.

“Ok, girls,” Filip said, coming over and kneeling beside them, gently removing a paintbrush from the youngest’s hand, “time to say goodbye and go to bed, hm?”

“Do you like our painting, daddy?” She asked, blinking those big brown eyes at him. They all looked very pleased with their work. Filip’s eyes looked over to Jaskier, giving him a once-over and smiling apologetically.

“Yes, love, it’s gorgeous as always. Now bed?” He tried again, reaching out to the others. Jaskier didn’t know how happy he was at being called an “it” but decided to hold his tongue for now. The brushes were all handed over. They themselves were smeared with paint as well, nowhere near as much as the bard though. He was more canvas than a bard at this point.

Filip told Geralt and Jaskier that he’d wash the girls - and their sheets - tomorrow and that they could have the bath for tonight, both men in desperate need of a wash.

Geralt, in a rare show of mercy, allowed Jaskier to go first. He sat by the wall, listening to the bard complain about how difficult the paint was to scrub off. He couldn’t help but let out an amused huff occasionally, earning a sour look from the bard.

“Oh, how you revel in my misery.” He muttered. Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Now we know that you’re not cut out to be a nanny after all.” Geralt teased.

“All things considered, I think I did an alright job.”

“Jaskier, you’re yellow.”

Being glared at by a wet bard sitting in yellow water was not the most intimidated the Witcher had ever been.

Not long after, Jaskier stepped out of the wooden bath and Geralt stepped in.

The Witcher melted into the tub as Jaskier’s nimble fingers threaded through his hair. Albeit, a bit rougher than usual. He had started using his own soaps and oils on Geralt, leaving his hair soft and shiny. He could tell Geralt liked it, despite his complaints that it left him smelling like rose water and cloves. It was a pleasant scent though.

“Why’d they paint you yellow?” Geralt asked placidly, eyes closed. Jaskier laughed softly.

“I told them what my name meant. I was meant to look like a field of buttercups, I presume.” He replied fondly. Geralt hummed. They bathed in silence for a while until Jaskier said softly; “the second eldest one is called Julia. She told me the name means strength.”

Geralt said nothing, sensing the bard’s mood had changed.

“I had a sister once.” Jaskier continued.  Though surprised, Geralt made no comment. “Her name was Julia.” Silence fell again as Jaskier gently pushed Geralt’s shoulder. The Witcher moved at the pressure, allowing the bard to tilt his head back and rinse his hair off.

“Julka przed samotnością nie odczuwa lęku, bo to dziewczyna pełna wdzięku.” Jaskier said, more to himself than to the Witcher.

“What does it mean?”

“In the face of loneliness, Julka is not afraid,” Jaskier whispered, recalling the old saying, “because she is a girl full of grace.”

Geralt clenched his eyes tighter, not knowing what to say in the face of Jaskier’s gentle grief.

Geralt had stared down that same face of loneliness. Could he say that he’d confronted it fearlessly?

Jaskier ran his fingers through the Witcher’s hair one last time and gave it a hard tug.

“That’s for calling me a nanny again.” He remarked weakly. Geralt opened his eyes, watching Jaskier walk away and change into his night clothes.

The face of loneliness seemed to blur.

Filip allowed them to stay the night and they left early the next day. Geralt was prepping Roach when Filip’s three young girls ran up to him, the one in the middle holding a bag of coin. The blacksmith was crouched in the doorway, watching them with a small smile.

“This is for you.” The one in the centre said very seriously, handing over the payment with an air of importance. Not an ounce of fear showed on any of their faces. Geralt felt vague concern over their survival instincts.

“Er…thank you.” Geralt said awkwardly, taking the money. He was about to stuff it into Roach’s saddle before he thought better of it and placed it gently into his breast pocket, patting it to reassure the girl that he’d keep it safe. She smiled brightly at him and the three of them blinked at the same time. Geralt could only blink in return, not knowing where to go from there.

“Goodbye, Jaskier’s friend!” They announced and scurried off. Jaskier was just coming out of the house as they ran past, giggling. He jumped out of the way with a  yelp, eyes following them bemusedly. Looking back to Geralt, he raised a brow. The Witcher simply shrugged. Jaskier laughed.

No, loneliness did not feel as present anymore.

—

Eleven years into their familiarity, Jaskier asked a question.

“I wonder what it feels like to die.”

Geralt had sensed his miserable mood all day. He’d been quiet and he hadn’t touched his lute or hummed a melody and strangest of all, he’d done what Geralt had told him. He’d stayed at the camp when Geralt had taken a contract to get rid of a wild boar and he’d collected firewood with no complaints when told.

Geralt sensed Jaskier’s unhappiness, he knew something was wrong, yet he didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to help. The very fact that he wanted to help, instead of revelling in the silence, came as a surprise. Jaskier’s statement was even more of a surprise. The casual way he said it jarred with the reality that this was the first thing Jaskier had said in hours.

They stared at each other from across the fire between them. Jaskier’s cornflower eyes lustreless and not expectant of an answer.

“I know what it feels like.” Geralt responded, own voice gruff from disuse. He could tell that he’d startled the bard. Jaskier’s blue eyes suddenly cleared and glinted with concern.

“How…how do you know what it feels like to die?” Jaskier asked and Geralt was surprised by the emotion behind his words.

“There are many ways to die, bard.”

Jaskier frowned.

“How do you know what it feels like to die, Geralt?” Jaskier pressed.

“I do not know what death feels like, but I am familiar with the journey.”

Geralt didn’t know whether he was skirting around the question on purpose. The initial response to Jaskier’s statement of a question had come unbidden and honest. Now he could feel heat under his skin and an urge to sneer and turn tail. He couldn’t do that though, not now, not with Jaskier as he’s been all day.

“Geralt, you-“

“Jaskier,” He cut him off, then stopped himself. He took a breath, “I can’t imagine a Witcher who isn’t familiar with the experience.” Jaskier shut his mouth and remained silent, an unspoken offer to continue. Geralt accepted the moment of quiet, taking the opportunity to arrange his thoughts and suppress the grief that had suddenly swelled in him.

“When boys were recruited to become Witchers, they underwent mutations that most did not survive.” Jaskier nodded, this Geralt had told him before, “They put elixirs, poisons and mutagens into our tea for days beforehand and when we were immobilised, they injected them directly into our veins. Most who did not die immediately, died by the third day. Those who did not die by the third day, went mad from the pain -“

Geralt stopped, hesitating, eyes drifting to the writhing flames between them.

He remembered their glassy eyes, unseeing. Nothing existed but their agony. They’d scream themselves hoarse, shredding vocal chords and vomiting out blood. He knew that he must’ve been the same but he could not remember anything he did while undergoing the mutations. Nothing existed, nothing mattered, but the torment.

Geralt looked back at Jaskier, who’s gaze remained strong and level, though sad.

“After we went mad with pain, they injected us again. We were all restrained, of course, otherwise we would have torn our skin off to find some relief. This round of mutagens induced seizures, hallucinations, and in our weakened state, our body had to fight the viruses. On the seventh day, three out of ten boys woke with cat eyes, the rest were dead.”

Geralt closed his eyes for a moment.

“I did not…I woke up with human eyes. The mutagens hadn’t worked on me to the extent they had worked on the others. I was uniquely resistant.” The words sounded bitter. “They gave me a couple of extra rounds and that’s why you won’t ever find another white wolf, bard.”

Jaskier remained silent. Geralt saw tears had slipped down his face, the reflection of the fire turning them gold. Geralt couldn’t stand the thought of tears being spilled for him but he stayed quiet, he found he had no more words to give.

“That’s not dying.” Jaskier finally said, voice unwavering through the tears. “That’s not dying. That’s torture. That’s something that no one should go through, let alone a child. You don’t know what it’s like to die, Geralt, and you won’t know for a long time to come.”

Geralt didn’t know who he was trying to convince.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“Jaskier,” The Witcher tried to make his tone gentle, “Witchers don’t retire. I know what it’s like to bleed out. That is likely my fate.” Jaskier flinched and looked down at his hands, clenched around each other, knuckles white. Golden tears slipped between his fingers.

“What does it feel like to bleed out?” He whispered so quietly that Geralt wouldn’t have heard him had he not been what he was. He frowned, but complied.

“You’re thirsty and your tongue feels swollen. Your vision becomes distorted and blurry. You feel a numbness as your head pounds with pressure. You can’t stand for long, so you’re left bleeding out on the ground, trembling and sweating, feeling like you’re going to vomit.” Jaskier’s shoulders were trembling. Geralt couldn’t stop. “You feel like you just want to rest your head forever.”

Finally, Jaskier broke, a sob breaking out past his lips, only for more to follow. It felt like the whole day had been building to this breaking point and Geralt itched to hold him. Let Jaskier release all that had been welling inside him. Geralt stayed, staring at him through the fire, sure that his own grief was showing.

“Geralt?” Came Jaskier’s small voice, head finally rising to look at Geralt. His eyes were red and tears fell freely.

“Yes?”

“Has this happened since we’ve met?”

A pause.

“Once.”

“You didn’t tell me.” His tone wasn’t accusatory, yet it sounded hurt.

Geralt suddenly felt guilty. He hadn’t thought it information that Jaskier needed, or wanted, to know. He’d clearly been healed and the next time they had run into each other had been months after the incident. Geralt himself hadn’t thought much of it. Yet now he felt guilty, it felt as if he had withheld something from the bard. He didn’t know why the thought of him keeping secrets from the man sparked a pain in his chest. He couldn’t stand to look at the hurt in those blue eyes so he looked away.

“I understand why you didn’t, Geralt, I don’t blame you…just - just please -“ the bard’s voice broke. He took a moment to breath in, pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Please tell me, whether I’m around to help or not. I can’t - I can’t be a part of your life and not know. I -“

“Okay, I will.” Amber eyes locked with blue, reflecting the same flame. They gazed at each other for a time. Then, the bard rose on unsteady feet, rounding the fire and sitting beside the Witcher.

“I meant what I said. You won’t know death for a long time, dear friend. You will live for a good while yet.” He stated with no room for argument. Geralt couldn’t help but smile.

“Does destiny will it?”

“No,” said his friend, “I do.”

And so they sat for the rest of the evening. Golden eyes and golden tears.

—

Fourteen years into their friendship, there was a meadow.

It was spring and the meadow was blanketed by buttercups and dandelions and daisies and wild lupine. It was a messy quilt of colours that beckoned the bard forwards. The Witcher had taken notice of Jaskier’s love for spring, he’d taken note of a lot of things. He watched Jaskier run into the field, voice bubbling with laughter.

“Geralt look at this! It’s exquisite! We have to break here.” He was grinning at Geralt in his faded blue doublet. Geralt ached at that smile. He reluctantly agreed. How could he not?

That’s how they’d spent an all too rare afternoon lying on a sunny patch of grass. Geralt listening to the bard talk and hum, feeling the gentle heat from the sun-warmed ground seep in through his clothes, and when he opened his eyes he watched. He watched birds flit between trees and leaves shuffle in the breeze. He watched the bard blow a dandelion, blue eyes following the fluff as it glided through the air. Then those blue eyes turned to him and Jaskier smiled.

“You know what I’ve always wanted to learn, dear friend?” Suspecting another long Jaskier ramble, Geralt closed his eyes and hummed noncommittally. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to braid a flower garland.”

“Hmm, you don’t already know?” What with Jaskier’s love for spring, Geralt would have assumed that something as simple as making a flower crown would have easily found its way into the bard’s skill set.

“I suppose I’ve never had the opportunity.”

“Hm.” Geralt responded, mulling it over. They lapsed into a calm silence, well as much of a silence as one can get with a humming bard collecting flowers.

It was noon and the sun was overhead, its brightness filtering through his eyelids.

The humming stopped and he heard an excited “Geralt?”

“What, Jaskier?” He sighed.

“Teach me how to make a wreath.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, you grumpy Witcher.”

“No.”

“But just look at these beautiful blossoms, it’d be such a shame not to put them to use.”

“Flowers have no use to anyone other than bees. Unless you’ve found some verbena or white myrtle.”

“How cynical of you, I can hardly believe it.” Geralt snorted at that. “Flowers have many uses, some of which I will detail to you now.”

“Please don’t-”

“Flowers are used for beautiful arrangements, placed at the centre of dinner tables or on mantelpieces, for magnificent perfumes that attract even the most stoic, and they create the most darling garlands, of which I am dying to learn the craft and am imploring my dear friend to teach me.”

Geralt groaned and opened his eyes to glare at the bard who was grinning cheekily at him.

“You are a pain in my ass, bard.” He acquiesced, knowing that Jaskier would take it as the acceptance that it is.

Sitting upright, he saw that Jaskier had already collected a bundle of wildflowers. Cornflowers and daisies and a myriad of others lay between them as they sat crosslegged, facing each other. Geralt’s hand immediately drifted to the cornflower nearest to him.

“It’s easier when you have a circle of string to wrap the stems around,” Geralt began, glancing back up at the sun-lit blue eyes looking right back at him, “but we’ve no string to spare. So once you’ve picked your starting flower, you pick another and wrap the stem a way’s down the stem of your first. Then you pick a third and wrap it around the stems of the first two.”

“A bit like braiding.”

“More like weaving,” Geralt explained, already a couple of flowers down his chain, “and then you keep adding more.”

Quiet settled between them once more. Geralt looked up every so often to check the bard’s progress, watching his nimble fingers weave his crown of flowers, rarely faulting. His eyes would wander up to Jaskier’s face, the bard’s brows frowning in concentration. The Witcher allowed himself a small smile. Jaskier had once told Geralt to alert him whenever he’d do this, hating the thought of wrinkles between his brows. Geralt of course never did. After all, it wasn’t his job to look out for the bard’s skin when it wasn’t being threatened by beasts or cuckolded spouses.

Geralt finished his garland first, realising that it consisted mostly of blue cornflowers and yellow dandelions and buttercups, broken up occasionally by reds.

“Complementary colours.”

“Hm?” Geralt asked, looking up at the bard.

“Yellow and blue. They complement each other. Honestly, Geralt, it’s simple colour theory.”

Geralt levelled him an unamused look, sending him back to work. Not long after, he watched the finishings of Jaskier’s own crown. An eager gaze slid up to Geralt’s face, eyebrows raised suggestively.

“No.” Came Geralt’s instant response.

“Please Geralt.” Jaskier whined. “No one’s here, your reputation is safe.” Geralt grunted, scowling at the bard whose big, blue eyes were pleading with him. With a sigh he reluctantly agreed. How could he not?

Jaskier’s own wreath was more varied than Geralt’s, with white daisies and purple aster and multicoloured poppies. Geralt let Jaskier shuffle closer, raising himself up on his knees so he could crown his Witcher in blossoms. Geralt watched his delighted face as he arranged the flowers just right, fingers grazing and pushing back the Witcher’s white hair. Geralt resisted the urge to lean into the touch. The gentle hands fell to his shoulders, warm gaze falling to look into yellow eyes.

“I’d write a song about this, a Witcher in a flower crown, if I didn’t think it’d be very unpopular.”

Geralt growled, glaring up at him.

“Ah, yes, and also because you’d gut me on the spot.” Jaskier added on. “I must say though, you look very dashing.”

Geralt didn’t say anything to that. He continued to stare up at the bard, glad that the man was happy, and content to be in his presence in a rare moment of peace.

“Now, my dear, I must wear yours.” Jaskier said. Geralt blinked then looked down at the wreath in his hands. Jaskier sat back, awaiting his floral coronation. Geralt smiled softly as he placed the crown on Jaskier’s head. It was a bit big for the bard’s head and pushed his fringe further into his eyes as it slipped down his head slightly. Snorting, Geralt pushed the brown hair from Jaskier’s face, fingers brushing his cheek as he pulled back. He found himself longing to touch him again but pulled away at the look of wonder in the bard’s eyes.

Jaskier went on to make another garland for Roach, making a show of crowning her “Lady of the Meadowland”. It was all very ridiculous so Geralt closed his eyes again and lay back onto the sun-warmed grass. He heard Jaskier amble over, felt his presence as he lay beside him with a deep sigh.

Geralt cracked an eye open to look at him. His eyes were closed. The sun turned his brown hair bronze, blue and yellow petals resting there crookedly. Geralt couldn’t help but think that Jaskier belonged here.

He belonged among the sun and the wildflowers.

—

Sixteen years into whatever the fuck they were and Geralt had been hired to kill a Griffin.

Fucking griffins and their fucking talons.

Geralt felt the ground pull at him magnetically.

He’d lost a lot of blood.

He stumbled to the ground.

He would have been content to press his feverish face into the cool, damp grass and simply lay there, if it hadn’t been for a single thought in his head.

Jaskier.

“Please tell me, whether I’m around to help or not.”

Fuck.

He pushed himself up shakily, a stab of pain pierced through the pressure in his head. He tried blinking past the faded edges of his vision and the spots floating between the trees like black will o’ the wisps.

He stumbled forward, hands pressed to his stomach. They didn’t do much to stop the heavy flow of blood gushing out of him. His fingers were numb but the rest of him was warm, so warm. He had to make it back, he couldn’t die without seeing Jaskier one more time. He couldn’t die here alone.

The face of loneliness came into focus amidst the blurry forest.

Somehow he made it back to the camp. Jaskier’s back was to him. He was stroking Roach’s snout, singing to her softly. It was a lullaby Jaskier sang whenever either of them couldn’t sleep. Geralt smiled in relief, the pressure in is head lifting slightly at the familiar sound.

“Jaskier.” The bards name fell out of him like a breath. Finally, he let the ground pull him down.

He woke up again in rather large bed, head cushioned on a feather pillow. Looking around he saw a glass of water on the desk in the corner, a painting of a long-bearded, angry-looking man on the wall across from him and a silk sheet covering him up to his bare chest. He frowned. This was not the typical establishment he was accustomed to.

Shifting slightly, he felt a weight on his arm. Confused, he looked to the right to find a mess of brown hair resting on his bicep. Geralt blinked, eyes widening. Jaskier was clearly asleep, curled around his side, head on his arm and hand resting in Geralt’s loose fingers. The Witcher suddenly felt warm and couldn’t help but tighten his hand around the bard’s.

While closing his hand, he involuntarily closed his other one, feeling something hard and cool under his fingers. Lifting it to his face, he saw that it was actually a stone, vaguely triangular in shape, with a wonky hole in the middle. What was strangest however, were the smudgy yellow flowers that had been painted around the hole. He assumed they were flowers as he could just make out some petals and wobbly, green stems.

Putting the mystery aside for a moment, he placed the stone down on the bed beside him. Removing his covers gently so as not to wake Jaskier, Geralt felt along his bandaged belly. The pain wasn’t too bad, more of an ache than anything and that could’ve simply been from the blood loss.

He wondered where they were. Their camp hadn’t been too far from a town, but that meant that Jaskier had somehow lifted him onto Roach and galloped through the forest and into town in search of a healer. Geralt knew that the bard was strong, muscle lined his arms and legs, tightened his stomach when he stepped into cold water. Almost two decades of joining Geralt on the path had given him a rather large build. Nevertheless, a limp Witcher was no easy feat to lift, especially onto a horse.

He felt Jaskier stir beside him. His head was still towards him but he could tell he’d opened his eyes because he promptly covered the Witcher back up with the silk cover he’d peeled off earlier. Geralt shifted and suddenly big, blue eyes were looking up at him. From this angle, he could see that the bard’s feet had been hanging off the edge of the bed from his position on Geralt’s arm.

“Geralt!” He exclaimed, smiling brightly. “You’re awake.” Geralt gave a soft grunt in response. “How are you feeling?” Jaskier asked, sitting up. He realised he was still holding onto Jaskier’s hand, so he let it go reluctantly, allowing the bard to pull it out of his grip.

“Like I lost most of my blood.”

“Ha ha.” Jaskier said humourlessly. Geralt sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

“Are you upset with me?” He asked finally. He knew Jaskier was upset but he didn’t know what kind of upset it was. Angry? Sad? Annoyed?

“I was,” Jaskier began. Geralt’s jaw tightened and Jaskier grasped his hand comfortingly. “But then I realised that I had no reason to be upset with you, I think my feelings of fear and concern got a bit muddled. Geralt, I was fucking terrified.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault, it was just…a lot.” Geralt winced and looked back to the bard. He was looking at their joined hands, blue eyes hazy and far away. Geralt didn’t know what he was seeing. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He gave Jaskier’s hand a tight squeeze, bringing him back. Jaskier smiled at him sheepishly.

“Were you surprised to wake up?” The bard asked. Geralt thought for a moment.

“No.”

“No?”

Geralt raised a brow, not entirely knowing what Jaskier wanted him to say. No, he wasn’t surprised. His only thought had been Jaskier. That he wanted to see him again. He wasn’t thinking much of being healed or waking later. Yet now that he thought about it, there wasn’t much doubt in him that Jaskier would help him in whatever way he could.

A thought came into Geralt’s mind.

“What’s this?” He asked, raising the painted stone. A blush tinged Jaskier’s cheeks pink.

“Ah…it’s a - it’s a hagstone.”

Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I see that, why was it in my hand and why is it covered in flowers?”

“Well, if you don’t like it, I’ll take it back.” Jaskier said pettishly, reaching for it. Geralt pulled it out of his reach.

“No, I want it.” Geralt said, grinning. Jaskier dropped his hand and huffed, looking away.

“Remember when you left me to babysit those three girls a couple of years ago?”

Geralt blinked, vaguely recalling three sets off big brown eyes.

“They painted you yellow.”

“They painted buttercups, just…on me.”

“They painted you yellow.”

“Yes, okay, thank you.” Jaskier sighed, rolling his eyes. “The hagstone dropped out of my pocket and they…painted that too.” He smiled sheepishly.

That was nearly a decade ago. Geralt couldn’t believe he’d held onto it for that long. He pulled it closer so he could examine it genuinely. He could make out the smudgy, yellow petals attached to green stems. They were dotted around the stone, growing in a cluster. The yellow paint had remained fairly unfaded. Geralt rubbed his thumb over the stone.

“You can keep it if you want.” Jaskier said. Geralt turned to find him already looking at him, eyebrow raised and smiling. The look of sincerity on the bard’s face had Geralt looking away.

“Why did you put it in my hand?”

“They’re for protection and healing. Surely you know that.”

Geralt knew what they were for, theoretically. The protective powers of witch stones were a myth though, just humans placing undue importance on an unusual rock. In reality, it was just that. A rock. One that had been eroded by water or animals. Geralt didn’t say anything though.

He didn’t know if he could say anything. Jaskier had carried this stone with him for a decade, maybe more, hoping for protection and now he was giving it to him. A Witcher who, by all appearances, didn’t want nor need luck. The bottom line was that the bard wanted him safe and Geralt had absolutely no way of dealing with that.

“They’re also used to keep witches away,” Jaskier continued, “useful incase we ever cross paths with Yennefer again.”

Geralt snorted.

“She’s a sorceress.” He countered

“And I’m a musician. It doesn’t mean I’m not also a bard.” Jaskier sniffed disdainfully. He pushed himself up the bed so he was leaning against the headboard and sitting next to Geralt. He continued to talk, allowing the Witcher to simply listen and think about how close their hands were between them.

—

Twenty two years since they met.

The wind bit at him, seeking to push him off his feet as he looked down at the snarling Witcher.

“Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, it’s you shovelling it?”

“That’s not fair.” He couldn’t help protesting weakly.

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.” Geralt gritted out between clenched teeth, amber eyes burning with emotion, he was practically shaking with it.  

Jaskier stood and watched as the Witcher turned and stormed further away from him. Tension and aggression written into the way Geralt’s shoulders tensed, fists tight, arms loose, ready to attack. Jaskier had seen Geralt like this before, more times than he could count, but it had never been directed at him. No matter how many times he irritated the Witcher or inadvertently gotten them into trouble, Geralt never had more for him than a hard glare and some frustrated shouts.

This was different. This felt final. This felt like the end. The inevitable conclusion to his tragic love story because fuck him, he’d fallen in love with a man sworn to someone else.

“Right, uh,” Jaskier managed to get out, suddenly finding it difficult to breath, “right, then,” he tried again, looking away, eyes blinking rapidly, “I’ll - I’ll go get the rest of the story from the others.” He turned and walked away, his attempt at casualness flimsy and transparent.

While Geralt berated destiny, fought against it and ignored it wholeheartedly, Jaskier accepted his fate because he had always known it was coming.

But, damn, did it hurt.

He didn’t get the rest of the story.

He stuffed all of his belongings into a bag, slung his lute over his shoulder, gave Roach one last, teary-eyed hug and ran. Geralt had walked away from him, both physically and metaphorically, and now Jaskier needed as much space between them as possible. He ran down the mountain, tripping on uneven paths and scratching his hands bloody. The burn in his lungs and chest felt poetic.

In the last two decades of his life, he and Geralt had always found their way back to each other after weeks or months apart. Sure, he’d keep an ear out for news of a Witcher but most of the time, Melitele save him, it had been a gods-honest accident. The romantic that he is believed it to be fate, and perhaps it was, but he knew now that it wasn’t the kind sort.

Fate was cruel and maleficent, making him believe that their hearts were intertwined when in reality it had been a ploy to torture them both in the end. Destiny left Jaskier heartbroken and Geralt with a life he didn’t want.

—

Some part of his mind registered Jaskier walking away.

Most of it was focused on containing the pain.

He had felt it slowly bloom in his chest at Yennefer’s weak “that’s why we can’t escape each other?” Anguish and bitterness in her voice. From there it had unfurled and spread throughout his body, the emotion burning him from the inside.

His being was now solely fixated on not letting it spread further.

Again, some part of him registered that it already had, it had spread to the bard, it had lashed out at him.

He felt like a flaming whip pulled taught. He felt in in his shoulders, his fists, his jaw.

He breathed in deeply.

His eyes were wet. He tried focusing them on the green valley below.

He breathed out and sunk to his knees.

He waited for the rushing noise in his head to stop.

His cheeks were wet.

He turned around. Yennefer was gone. Jaskier too.

So were their things when he returned to camp.

He breathed in and wailed.

—

The world was dull to him. The trees were not as green. The shades of blue across cornflower petals didn’t look the same anymore.

The world was quiet to him. Too quiet. Something was missing.

Never did he think the world would be dull and quiet. It had always been the opposite, too much, too loud.

He missed Jaskier desperately.

He hadn’t found him again since the mountain.

He could tell Roach missed him too.

Snippets of songs and melodies that had Jaskier’s mark drifted here and there. They were never him. How strange it was to hear others recount his own tales when he had grown so used to Jaskier being the only one.

For the first six months, he’d kept an ear out for any gossip of the famous bard but he had always seemed to arrive just a few days behind. Two months later and the chatter had dried up. No one had seen the bard, no one sang any new songs of his. He had searched the continent, gone to the coast, gone to Jaskier’s own town and found no sign of him.

It was like he had ceased to exist and so, Geralt’s world was dull and quiet.

The face of loneliness had never been clearer.

After those first eight months, he’d also started sleeping poorly.

Before, he’d been a light sleeper, ready to jump out of his bedroll fully aware and ready to defend. It came with being a Witcher. Although, admittedly, the nights spent in inns, on a relatively soft mattress, with a sleep-warm bard next to him had left him sleeping a bit deeper, waking a bit dazed.

Yet after those eight months, he’d slept restlessly. He’d dream of a weeping willow, drooping sadly. He’d dream of an open field and oddly wake up feeling caged.

When he himself found no sign of the bard, he’d gone to one of the few people he trusted, Triss Merigold. He had given her an old undershirt that Jaskier had forgotten to take with him. He made her try for three days before she had finally said “I really am sorry, Geralt, but truly, I can find no sign of your friend.” Geralt took the soft material back. “I fear he’s -“

“Don’t.” Whatever look he’d had on his face made her snap her mouth shut. Dark eyes looked at him with pity as he had turned, dropped some coin and left.

He’d go to Yennefer next.

“Geralt,” she greeted tensely, “didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon.”

Geralt had found Yennefer a few months after the dragon contract. They’d agreed that though they cared for each other deeply, it was best for them to have space, to move on. Geralt hoped desperately that one day they would become friends. Yennefer, though difficult and battle-hardened, remained fair and kind, one of the only people with whom Geralt shared easy conversation.

There was a longing between them, one that both knew was not falsified by the djinn. Neither knew what sort of longing they felt. One of friendship, companionship, understanding? Time and space would let them learn.

“I know,” He muttered apologetically, “I need your help.”

“You look awful.” She simply responded. Geralt winced. “You haven’t been sleeping.”

The Witcher opted for silence. He knew that she had heard him and knew that she was studying him, pondering his request.

“What do you need?” She asked finally, tone not one of acceptance but of curiosity.

“Jaskier.” The word came out sounding more distressed than he had intended. It was harder to maintain a mask through sleep deprivation. Yennefer’s expression briefly shifted to one of concern.

“What happened?”

Geralt’s throat suddenly felt compressed. Those two words somehow confirming that something had happened. Something had to have happened if he and Triss couldn’t find him.

Fear was a terrifying emotion because he truly didn’t know what he would do to end it.

“I…I don’t know. I can’t find him and neither can Triss.” Geralt pulled out the same shirt he had given to the other sorceress, gripping the folded fabric tightly in his hands. He looked up at Yennefer to find her looking right back with a sort of unease. “Please,” he said, offering the garment to her, “track him if you can.”

She stared at the shirt apprehensively, gaze snapping up to Geralt’s, looking for something. Finally, she sighed and turned to walk over to a large bookshelf, pulling out a thick, yellow-paged tome that had clearly not been removed for a good while.

“You’re lucky night is falling,” she said, stepping outside, not waiting for Geralt to follow. He did. “If regular tracking didn’t work, we’ll have to do it the hard way.” She walked to the middle of her large garden, sitting cross-legged in the grass, wine-coloured dress pooling around her. Geralt approached, ready to be told off and to step back, yet Yennefer said nothing as he sat down across from her.

The sorceress flipped the tome open to the centre, each side resting on a knee. Each side also being a couple inches thick. Tucked into the middle, between the two pages was a thin, silver geometrical compass. Yennefer lifted it with an elegant hand and placed it over one of the many configurations on the page. Geralt’s limited knowledge allowed him to surmise that they were astronomical. He looked up to the sky and the stars that he only knew to use for navigation.

“The shirt.” Yennefer said sharply, snapping his gaze back down to her and her outstretched hand. Shirt in one hand, compass in the other and tome on her lap, she began to speak. It was some variation of Elder. Geralt, only knowing the basics of the root language, was left clueless as the space above the book began to glow.

The light transformed the yellowed pages gold, illuminating Yennefer’s perfect features and making her look all the part of the powerful mage he knew she was. She dropped the shirt on the grass between them. Violet eyes looked up to the stars, compass travelling across the golden pages of the book. She flipped back and forth between the pages, her eyes shooting between stars. The compass twisted in complicated circular motions across configurations.

The light began to die slowly, Yennefer’s words slowing to a stop as she closed her eyes, clearly disappointed. Geralt’s stomach dropped and he felt like he might throw up the paltry dinner he’d had a few hours earlier.

“Yennefer, please -“

“I’m not done yet, Geralt.” She responded sharply before taking a breath, “I need something personal to him, something with an emotional connection. I may not be able to find his physical body,” because he may be dead was left unsaid “but I can perhaps find his spirit.”

Geralt tried to keep the devastation off his face at the implication.

An emotional connection. He knew immediately what to give her. A small pocket in the side of his leather armour held a painted witch stone. He gently pulled it out, rubbing his thumb over the messy petals of the buttercups. Yennefer didn’t comment on the item, though she looked at him with pinched brows. He placed the stone in the sorceress’ outstretched palm.

The golden light returned and Geralt watched as the sorceress studied the stars, measuring out constellations and distances in her book. Geralt had never been one for religion but he prayed, prayed for something.

Again, the light faded and Yennefer looked to him with a frown.

—

He’d been looking for tracks in the large forested area Yennefer had pointed him to. He’d been looking for two days and nothing had been found.

Honestly, he didn’t know what he was looking for. Yennefer had been unable to find his body but had found his spirit? Were they no longer attached? Geralt’s mind had been filtering through the different options of what that could mean, but even Yennefer didn’t know what to say. The thought that he might be dead was an unwelcome one in his mind.

It had recently rained and the ground squelched and shifted under Geralt’s boots. Most of the tracks had been washed away by the rain. Geralt lead Roach through the trees, eyes catching on imprints in the ground and broken shrub twigs. All signs indicating animal presence rather than human.

The forest was familiar to the Witcher, he’d been here before. He didn’t think much of it, he’d been to most places on the continent, the Path taking him wherever he needed to be. Yet when he tried to recall the memory tied to this place, it was not one of necessity or danger.  He couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

Giving up on the meagre prints, he let the memory lead him. His feet found a forgotten path. Boots had flattened the earth so compactly, it was likely to last a long time. But it was littered with leaves and branches, clearly not trod on for a long while. He remembered the path, it had not looked so different the first time he had found it. It had soothed him that though this forest may once have been peopled, it was unlikely that they’d run into trouble.

They. He hadn’t been alone in the memory.

Vague and distant chatter tugged him forward, the line between reality and recollection blurring. He let go of Roach’s reins, trusting her to follow. He surged through the trees, pushing aside branches. Sunlight and grass filtered through the trees.

Spring.

Buttercups, dandelions, daisies, cornflowers.

A laugh ringing in his ears.

“Geralt look at this! It’s exquisite! We have to break here.”

The Witcher burst through the line of trees and froze. A field of green grass. It was familiar, but not just from the memory. A shiver down the back of his neck. Dread tightened his chest. His eyes landed on a weeping willow, its leaves pale. He didn’t remember it being here the last time.

Uneasily, he made his way towards it. It sagged so low that Geralt could not quite make out its bark. The pale leaves almost sparkled in the sun from the wetness of the leaves.

The Witcher crouched lower as he got closer, seeing a body through the drooping leaves. His hand hovered over his sword. He stopped before the wall of pallid green. The person behind had not moved, clearly unaware of his presence. He reached a hand out and pulled the leaves away, one hand still on the pommel of his sword.

His eyes landed on the man sitting on the damp grass, leaning back against the tree.

Geralt felt like the air had been punched out of him, body becoming immediately slack.

Wide shoulders. Soft, brown hair. Blue, inquisitive eyes.

“Fuck-“ the word came out sounding more like a sob than anything else, “Jaskier”.

Geralt took two steps forward and collapsed on his knees.  

“Jaskier.” He reached out to touch him, to feel him warm and safe.

He felt nothing. His fingers slipped through.

A shimmer and a blur and the bark of a willow tree.

[imagine-darksiders]

Just like. Head canons. For our lovely Dad Guys. Whoever you want. Whatever you want. I don’t care. Just. The Fluff Beast. 😫 Getting too strong...! Help! (I’m sorry 😂 Seriously, just do whatever you want. It’ll be beautiful and I’ll love it regardless)

Well, I’ve had this little Eidad fic on the back burner for a while now, sitting in my drafts and not doing a while lot. This seems like a good time to post it <3 <3 <3 

It’s a sick fic. Nothing too drastic, just an old maker getting worried about his human friend. 

---

Eideard has always been an especially unflappable maker, a trait that tends to come with the territory of being the village elder.

He never gets flustered, and he always maintains the poise and composure expected of him.

Unless, of course, one of his fellow makers is under threat. Only then, by his own admission, does decorum fly out of the proverbial window and little else but worry takes over him, mind, body and soul.

Recently, he's come to discover that the same rule applies to a very specific, little human.

----

“I'm cold.”

That ought to have been their first clue.

You're sitting in the maker's forge, seemingly content to remain still and quiet beside the roaring fire whilst Alya and her brother, Valus, are hard at work at their anvil.

“Cold?” the former twin laughs incredulously, glancing up from the sword she's forging to turn and fix you with a raised brow, “You're sittin' close enough to that fire!”

Her brother though, always the more perceptive of the siblings, ambles around her and makes his way towards you, tugging at the green cowl that sits around his neck. You may be vastly smaller than him, but even behind that visor, he can see the shivers you're trying to suppress. Blinking, you watch him as he bends onto one knee in front of you and holds his treasured garment out, uttering a low, almost undetectable whine.

“I'm okay, big guy,” you murmur, sounding far from it, “Think I've just got a bit of a chill.”

At that, Valus doesn't wait for you to reach up and take the cowl from his grasp and instead, with a huff, he leans forward to drape it around your shoulders, his thick fingers tucking it up underneath you as carefully as he can. Once he's finished, he sits back on his haunches to inspect you, satisfied when you snuggle further into the fabric and give him a shy smile.

“Thanks.”

Pacified, the burly maker returns your smile with a nod and pushes himself onto his feet, turning back to his sister and the anvil.

With their attention elsewhere, you allow your smile to fade, burying your face into Valus's scarf. 

You're loathe to tell them the whole truth, that accompanying your chills is a raw throat that feels as though it's been rubbed tender by sandpaper, and an ache in your limbs that only grows worse and worse by the hour.

There's no denying it.

You've come down with something.

At the very least, the makers don't know a lot about human biology, so you're relatively hopeful that you'll be able to pass this off as a mundane occurrence – definitely not anything they should be worrying about.

There is an unspoken rule amongst the giants, one that came about the moment they first laid eyes on you – a small, cowering little thing whose world had been destroyed only a few days prior.

The rule, never spoken aloud, yet understood by all, is that you are a youngling – despite your insistence to the contrary – and younglings are to be protected, especially those who have yet to reach their first century of life. 

It also doesn't help that you're a human, and consequently only stand about as high as the makers' knees.

But for as endeared to you as they all are, there are none who are quite so taken as Eideard.

The village Shaman, Muria, speculates that their elder has seen more younglings and friends die off over the centuries than any of them, and thusly, that's where his protective tendencies stem from.

Thane, on the other hand, attests that Eideard has always been enormously tender-hearted, long before grief softened his edges. 

If he were to find out that you're sick, you can't imagine he'd take it well.

Bottom line? You'd hate to worry him.

Unfortunately for you, there are some things that can't be kept from a group of watchful makers.

It's impossible to hide glassy eyes, tremors that rattle your whole body and a sudden, explosive sneeze that causes both Alya and Valus to jump out their skin, tools clattering to the stony ground.

“Stone's blood! Bit of warnin' before you go makin' noises like that, please!” Alya exclaims, resting a hand over her heart whilst Valus hurries over to you again.

“It was just a sneeze,” you try to protest, but the forge brother isn't buying it. Without a word, which isn't unusual, he clenches his fists and heaves himself about on a heel, marching purposefully towards the forge's entrance, deaf to his sister calling after him.

“Oi, Valus? Where are you off to?”

It's hardly a surprise that she doesn't get a response.

He disappears through the doors and you share a look with his sister, who hesitantly asks, “You.. sure you're okay?”

The fake smile you plaster on your face is apparently as unconvincing as it feels, judging by the flat look you receive from Alya in response. 

A few moments later, the doors swing open once again and your ears pick up two pairs of resounding footsteps thumping through the forge.

Valus appears first, lumbering up the short flight of steps onto the raised dais where he's soon followed by the second maker, a particularly concerned-looking Eideard.

As soon as the elder's pale, grey eyes lock onto you, you slump forwards in defeat, any hope of riding this illness out in privacy now dashed. Of all the makers in Tri Stone, Eideard is the most well-versed in anthropology.

Shooting Valus a glare for his betrayal, you swallow your cough and groan, “Valus, I told you, I’m okay. You didn't need to bother Eideard.”

“I for one, am very glad he did.” From underneath his bushy, furrowed brows, the old maker studies you closely until you duck your head, weighed down by the heaviness of his stare, the whole while, your throat burns with the need to cough. Then, in a blink, his eyes widen again and the fingers clutched around his golden staff turn white as he breathes, “You're sick...”

At once, Alya shoots upright from where she'd been leaning casually against the anvil. “Sick!?” she blurts, her gaze snapping between you and her elder, “Why didn't you say somethin'?!”

“Because!” you argue, hating that Eideard’s face now appears almost twice its age thanks to the worry lines permeating his forehead, “It's not a big de-” As fate would have it, the raw spot at the back of your throat finally chooses its moment, and before you can stop yourself, you're lurching forwards into a vicious cough that burns at the tenderness like acid, bringing tears to your eyes and shame onto your clammy cheeks.

You become vaguely aware of a vast hand coming to rest on your back and fingers that pat you gently until you can catch your breath. Even after you've hacked yourself silly, you push Eideard's silken, blue sleeve away and try to get to your feet, hoping that if they see you standing, they'll be less inclined to fret. But the moment you begin to move, the same hand is cupping around your trembling body and you find yourself being lifted up and nestled against a broad chest by a maker who is wholly undeterred by your feeble resistance. 

“I'm not a baby, Eideard!” you complain, trying to wriggle free as the maker presses delicately on your chest, forcing you to lay across his forearm, “Put me down! I can walk just fine.”

“Easy, now. You'll only hurt yourself further if you keep that up,” he rumbles in a tone that's far too gentle for your pride to withstand.

Embarrassed, you wilt down behind his fingers when you hear Alya's stifled giggles, but the old maker doesn't pay her any mind, simply turns away from the anvil and begins to shuffle down the steps, heading for the entrance. Almost immediately, you miss the fire's warmth and Eideard feels your shivers turn violent, his heart seizing at the sound of your teeth chattering together like rapid gunfire.

“You – you're not going outside, are you?” you croak, pulling Valus's cowl up to your neck, “It's freezing!”

“The weather is perfectly mild. You, on the other hand, are burning hotter than forge-fire.”

You open your mouth to protest but find yourself cut off when he continues, “I’ll not have this sickness turning into something worse. We may belong to separate species, but I wasn't born yesterday. A little fresh air will do you some good.”

“Ugh. You sound like my mum.”

His reply comes in the form of an affectionate, rumbling chuckle that you can feel travelling up through his palm and into your bones. Letting out a final huff, you flop backwards and turn limp in his hand.

It isn’t as though you can fight your way out of the Old One's grip, after all. For such an ancient maker, Eideard is powerful, and his age does little to detract from that strength. The meagre resistance you put up is also proven ineffective by the silken softness of the fur trim on his sleeves that you run between your fingers.

Perhaps if you'd been looking at Eideard's expression instead of the doors as he pushes them open, you'd take notice of the disquiet lingering at the edge of his eyes.

He plans on taking you to see Muria in the hopes that she might have a remedy that can alleviate the fever spreading through your delicate body, and, failing that, he will sit with you in the peace of the night air and keep you still and safe until your tremors cease and his old heart stops trying to beat its way out of his ribcage.

You're more than welcome to resent him for this, he muses quietly, but after seeing so many of his people lost to corruption, it isn't such an easy feat to quell the pervasive anxiety that writhes like an impatient, snarling beast in his stomach, and he would much rather endure your resentment if it means keeping you out of harm’s way.

The village elder is supposed to protect his own, and glancing down at you and seeing that you've buried your face into the fabric of his robe to escape the cold, Eideard realises with a sudden surge of paternal drive, that you fall under the scope of those he considers 'his.'

The old maker clutches you possessively against his chest and hurries as well as his tired legs can carry him up towards the Shaman's gazebo, knowing that his soul will never know peace until you’re well once again. 

[makeste]

I was originally going to send this message declaring my undying love for your metas and chapter reviews aND THEN - AND THEN MAKESTE - I READ THE ANSWER WHERE YOU SAID YOU WERE ARO AND THAT MAKES ME SOOOOO HAPPY. I'm aroace and it is SO FRUSTRATING to want to consume platonic or familial interaction between people and CONSTANTLY only get romantic or sexual. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EVERYTHING YOU CONTRIBUTE

woooo up top! solidarity lol.

for me it’s like... I don’t know if “frustrating” is the word I would use, but I do wish there was more gen out there. and that’s also something I’ve felt awkward about wanting in the past, because my early fandom years took place in a time where slash was much less of an everyday commonplace thing than it is now, and liking it was still a fairly controversial thing. the internet was a much more openly homophobic place than it is now. like, picture the purity police of modern day tumblr, but if they attacked any kind of non-heterosexual relationship as being sick and perverted and wrong. that was pretty much the general vibe. this was before AO3, and people who wrote slash often didn’t post it on ff.net and only posted it to their own private blogs and/or locked and moderated communities instead just so they wouldn’t be harassed. and there was absolutely no canon representation out there at all, or next to none. it was very much a “[rolls eyes] oh the yaoi fangirls are at it again” sort of thing where non-cishet relationships in fiction and fanfiction were at best not taken seriously at all, and at worst were treated with outright scorn and disgust.

and so like, with this being a common attitude at the time, I felt guilty for not always wanting to read slash myself. like, I don’t mind reading about romantic relationships at all, but for me there also has to be some other kind of element in play as well, or else it’s just not going to click for me. if a fic is just romance, just a lot of pining and slow burn stuff without anything else really going on in the plot, I just get bored and disinterested. I almost want to use the word tired, even though I’m not sure that makes much sense. I just can’t connect to the emotions, and so I disengage pretty quickly. and so I tend to steer clear of time-honored fandom staples like coffee shop AUs or And They Were Roommates, just because for me there’s rarely anything there for me to latch onto. I like angst, but I can’t relate to “so and so doesn’t feel the same way about me”, or “I want to be with them so bad but I don’t know how to confess”, or “they’re with someone else and it hurts like crazy every time I see them and know we can’t be together”, because none of those are emotions that I have ever personally felt, and I just can’t make myself feel them. what I can relate to are things like “this person makes me feel safe”, or “I feel a strong connection to this person”, or “I trust this person more than anyone else” because those feelings aren’t exclusively romantic in nature. I can relate to closeness and caring and love and affection and trust, but what I can’t relate to is the feeling of having a single person occupy all of your thoughts all the time, and very badly wanting to be the most important thing in their life as well, and feeling incomplete otherwise.

but anyway I spiraled away from the point I was trying to get to, which is that for a long time I actually felt guilty about feeling this way. because even though it’s rare to find fanworks where gen/platonic relationships are at the center, actual canon is chock full of said relationships. and so it’s like, what right do I even have to complain when I get to read all the time about so and so being friends, but the people who actually want them to be in a relationship in the actual canon so rarely get to see that actually happen. because that much has not changed in the past 20 years, even though society has become far more accepting of LGBTQ+ relationships. most canons are still far more likely to tease a non-hetero ship -- on purpose, even, hence why queerbaiting is a thing -- than actually commit to it. and so I often feel like I have no right to voice my desire for more genfic, because genfic has never faced the same kind of scrutiny as slashfic. gen has always been acceptable, and there is plenty of canon representation of platonic and non-romantic relationships, and so it’s not something I have any business whining about.

and even now I feel fairly uncomfortable voicing this lol. I write almost exclusively genfic myself, and up until very recently, I’ve always defined gen in my head as being just a lack of romantic or sexual content, rather than being its own distinct category. I think that’s one of the reasons it took me so long to realize I was aro (that, and I’d honestly never even come across the term until just a few years ago). for me, my lack of interest in romantic affection always felt more like a lack of identity rather than an identity in and of itself. I always felt like I was missing something. and for a very long time it never occurred to me that this might be a permanent thing; I just figured, okay, I just haven’t had this feeling yet. it just hasn’t happened for me yet. but eventually it would, and I just hadn’t met the right person, or whatever. but it was never anything I particularly wanted, and I never felt like I was missing out on anything by not having it. I never felt any kind of longing for it or felt incomplete without it. I was actually perfectly content!

but because society treats romantic orientation as the norm and places such a huge emphasis on it, I still had the uncomfortable feeling in the back of my head that if I never fell in love with someone and never wound up having a relationship with someone, my life would somehow be less meaningful and whole. like, we’re raised to think that romantic love is basically the pinnacle of the human experience, the purest and truest emotion that anyone can feel. and at the same time, there’s this idea that a life without that kind of love is just sad and unfulfilling and tragic. and so for a very long time my experience with my own aromanticism was characterized by me thinking of it as a lack of something that everyone else said was very important. and it took a long time to realize that that wasn’t the case, and that it was a valid orientation all its own and not just a matter of me being deficient in some way. and that was actually such a relief to finally come to terms with. I can be whole and complete on my own and still have a rich and fulfilling human experience even if I never experience romantic love, and that’s fine. I’m not missing anything. I’m not wrong for feeling like I’m not missing anything. it’s fine to be content with just me as I am. like, holy shit. and that was such a weight off my shoulders to finally get that.

I once wrote a fic which I was and still am very proud of. it was a genfic, and it had a really intricate plot with a big twist at the very end. and there was a ton of emotion in it, and it got very intense at times, because these were two characters who cared a lot about each other and would literally die for each other if they had to, and I’d put them in a situation where that possibility was very much looming over their heads at every turn. and I really put everything I had into trying to convey that kind of bond as strongly as possible. like I poured a ton of my heart and soul into that fic. and the responses were almost universally positive and kind and made me really happy.

there was one response though, that still sticks with me to this day. it was by and large very positive, just like the others. but it ended with a single sentence that, at the time, kind of just lowkey gutted me. Not gonna lie though, would have loved some slash in there.

like, that just cut me. way more than this person actually intended, I think. I’m pretty sure they just meant it as an offhanded comment, not even a concrit or anything. just “haha would have loved it if they’d kissed though lol.” but it stung. because this was something I’d put every ounce of emotion that I could conjure up into. and even though it wasn’t mean to be hurtful in any way, to me that comment read as “this is still missing something.” because there was no romance, the fic was incomplete. the characters’ feelings were incomplete. even though I’d struggled so much to convey all of these complex emotions which to me were so real and powerful, and even though the comment even acknowledged that I had by and large done so effectively, to me the single takeaway that stuck was that the feelings were less meaningful because there was no romance.

and that felt like a failing on my part. I even apologized for it. and here we are, ten years later, and that comment still pops up in my head any time I feel the urge to talk about a popular ship which I support but which I also enjoy as just a friendship. “just” a friendship. I still feel guilt over that. I still feel this urge to overexplain that I’m not trying to invalidate the actual romantic ship. I worry that I’d be perceived as ungrateful and/or a bad ally if I ever just came out and said “I wish there was more gen” like you were able to say so freely, anon. I worry about people getting offended if I were to say “I headcanon so and so as being aroace” because it might be viewed as an attack on their ships, or as latent homophobia, or something. like I have this paranoid fear that people might take it as me being puritanical and all “oh no, icky sex” or whatever, and so I end up just never bringing it up at all.

and that’s the thing about aromanticism, though; it’s so easy to just never talk about it at all, because for so many people it is just defined as a lack of something, rather than a something all on its own. it’s so easy for it to be something you just never bring up, and which just kind of quietly exists as the boring, bland, inoffensive yet uninteresting lack of a relationship; the default blank slate that most everyone is dying to fill in as soon as possible, except for you. and I’ve gone on thinking about it that way myself for so long that I’m still struggling now to sort out how to embrace it as an actual identity. it’s something I still have a lot of work to do on I guess.

anyway! so that all got very long and rambling and personal, far more so than I intended; clearly I have a lot of pent up thoughts and feelings about this lol. I guess I probably could stand to talk about it more, since the evidence would indicate that I clearly want to. but eh, baby steps. but anyways you are super valid anon and thank you so much for the love and comments. <3

[jj-ktae]

·39·Attendance - Prompt Game -

Title : Attendance Pairing : Lim Jaebeom x Fem!Reader Genre : Fluff Words : 1393 Summary : You just want Jaebeom to take care of himself. Prompt N°39 : “You fool! You’ve walked right into my trap! It’s not even a very good trap!”

Attendance 

Jaebeom doesn’t know what rest is. He spends hours and hours in his studio, composing and writing until he feels satisfied enough to grant himself with a five-minute break that barely calms his stress. He walks around when he needs inspiration, eyes moving frantically in need of something, anything that could tear a word out of his brain.

When it does he runs back into the poorly lit room, his feet hitting the ground at full speed and distracting you from whatever you are doing.

You’ve learnt to deal with this side of your boyfriend.

You don’t mind; Jaebeom has always been the artistic type, the one who says only what is needed but has it all in his head. He finds beauty in what reflects the eyes and expresses it with what the lips can form. It is a process of fabrication that he cherishes and you are willing to follow his lead for the sake of his art.

But sometimes, just sometimes, you wish he would put it aside to enjoy the beauty of a relationship he tends to forget. It is obviously not on purpose for Jaebeom is the same old romantic, his words teasing and pupils shining when you appear before him. He works in cycles where he locks himself for a long period before emerging with or without the hint of a smile to fulfil his boyfriend duties.

You understand, you don’t want him to change who he is.

It has been a whole week, though. A week of whispers and dehydration. Jaebeom barely goes out and he has a whole album to work on but you cannot let him be. He must take care of himself above everything else even if it means fighting with his thick head.

“Jaebeom, you should take a break.” Only your head pops from behind the door. A tired boy is sitting, locks messed up.

“Later.”

It’s always the same answer, that annoying word which means he won’t be going out of this room any time soon.

You sigh, opening the door wider and sensing the change of mood as soon as he slowly pulls his headphones down.

“I’m about to eat, can you please join me?” You try again, a hand now on your hip.

He tilts his head slightly, looking frustrated but also annoyed. “I’ll join you later. I’m almost done.”

You know how it will end, the food will stay on the table until you go to sleep.

“Why can’t you disconnect for like...an hour?” You don’t need him to answer; you want him to realize he has to stop. “You have to take care of yourself!”

Jaebeom sighs, finally putting his pen down and leaning over his hand. “I am taking care of myself. I need concentration, that’s all.”

“And I need you from time to time, that’s all.” You finish, your tone going softer.

Annoyance leaves Jaebeom as soon as you speak. He nods and lets everything as it is on his office, like you spelled a cast on him and he can only do whatever you want.

He will never admit it is actually the case.

“I’m done for tonight.” He concludes. You smile and it feels like jackpot for Jaebeom so he gets up and walks toward you until he is at arm’s reach. His hand falls on your cheek, “Let’s eat. I deserve a break.”

Your body relaxes, his reaction enough to make you feel electricity going through your chest. “I deserve that break, too.” you joke, turning around to go to the kitchen.

Jaebeom feels guilty. He knows he shouldn’t turn into a hermit whenever he has a big project going on but he doesn’t seem to be able to work any other way. He finds the table set and so beautifully decorated it makes his heart ache.

You had prepared all of this and you probably did it in the past too. How many times did he reject your offers, how many times did you do your best and never complained because you take him seriously?

His stomach almost hurts. He hates feeling like the guy who is so selfish he doesn’t even notice everyone else’s effort.

So, before he can form a proper sentence, an apology leaves his mouth.

You arrange the second plate on the table, raising two surprising brows at how down he suddenly looks. Maybe he doesn’t want to take a break but did it to please you?

“I promise it’s only for tonight. I’m the one who is sorry for taking you away from work.” You hate how indecisive your emotions are. Anger is out the window when you notice how disturbed Jaebeom is; he probably is already thinking about what he should be composing, now.

Your boyfriend blinks, feeling even worse for hinting he might not want to be here. “No, no. I actually feel guilty. You’ve been preparing such a pretty dinner and I almost didn’t see it.”

He takes a seat and you follow, your chair now next to his.

“I am totally fine with being here, with you. I hate that you’re doing all this while I can only lock myself up in this room. You had every right to come and request a little bit of my time. You deserve all my time.” he confesses, his usual embarrassment nowhere to be found.

You hum, taken aback by such a confession but also content. “Are you okay? You don’t usually...speak like this.”

Jaebeom looks okay, but deep inside he is not. “I’m just realising things. Just you saying you need me and your face right now makes me realize how much of a crappy boyfriend I am.” He chuckles, eyes avoiding the table because he pictures you being all cute an eager to please him.

For a whole minute, Jaebeom thinks he doesn’t deserve to have you.

And you feel it, the hint of anxiety on his face. It’s like the one expression he wears whenever he is stuck on a project.

You grab his adorably-looking tiny hand and let the chair slide closer to his. “Don’t overthink it. I am in a happy relationship; we live comfortably without conflicts, we’re both busy people and we do love each other. You having to lock yourself into your studio is fine by me, I just want you to take care of yourself. Don’t think about all the times you didn’t come.”

“I just think about you preparing all this,” he looks up, licking his lips unconsciously when your sweet face appears before him. “about how beautiful you are,” he lifts his free arm and wraps it around your shoulder, “and about how my past self must have done a lot of good deeds for me to live this way without getting in trouble.”

He pulls you toward him when you snort and you let his hand go to hug him back. “You’re a perfect boyfriend, Jaebeom. You care about me and I feel it. You have nothing to worry about, I just wish you’d stop disappearing for a whole week.”

You yelp when he grabs you, making you fall on his lap. “I guess I will have to show you how...present, I can be.”

You shake your head, using your best pitiful expression. “I know, a dinner is nothing special...maybe I shouldn’t try so hard and just give you what you need…”

Jaebeom gasps, horrified by your comment and how it implies he left his studio for sex only. You land back on your chair in the blink of an eye before Jaebeom dives into his plate, stuffing his face and complimenting your cooking and you swear he is about to choke.

Your face turns so red from how hard you are trying not to laugh but you still end up giggling, confusing you boyfriend.

“You fool! You’ve walked right into my trap! It’s not even a very good trap!” You grab your own plate and follow, wriggling when Jaebeom tries to tickle you.

“You freaked me out!” He whines, his cheeks so full it is hard to fully understand him. “I was ready to write a whole essay on how way more important than sex you are.”

You feel proud. “I know, but you need to take care of yourself first. Now eat, we’ll check your…. attendance once you’re done.”

Jaebeom eats faster.

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight - Chapter 13: Change

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~3800

Rating: PG-13 (language only)

Summary: About three weeks since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

Drake shifted on the bed, running his thumb over the dry cracked skin on the back of his hand, listening as he heard the water running in the little bathroom shut off yet again. She'd been in there for hours. And he didn't like it at all. 

He wanted to fight her on this. Her being the one to meet up with Leo to get their belongings - and hopefully some money - seemed like such a massive risk. She was the one the press loved. She was the one that would be recognized. Not him. He had always been able to blend into the background.

Except… Leo being seen with a pretty woman was not at all unusual. And Drake and Leo were more likely to be considered friends, so people would be expecting Drake to be the one to meet up with Leo. Riley made more sense for this particular task. But that didn't mean Drake had to like it.

The thing he didn't like most was that Riley clearly knew what she was getting into. The other night when he'd gotten back tired and sore and reeking of olive oil, his hands so raw they were practically bleeding, she'd been waiting up for him, hellbent on persuading him to let her do this. And of course, she listed a bunch of reasons that made sense as she dug some lotion out of her bag, laying out her arguments as she tried to tend to his hands. She'd even suggested dyeing her hair to help disguise her appearance, hence her spending the entire afternoon in the bathroom today.

But Drake still didn't like it. He'd tried to convince her to let him take care of it all, but eventually she dropped the line that told him Riley knew exactly what she was agreeing to do. What risks she was undertaking.

"She needs you more than she needs me." 

Her words were so bleak and haunting. It was clear she had seriously considered the fact that she might get arrested. And that scared the crap out of him. He had always been the pessimist out of the two of them. Not her. She bounced back and adapted and just kept going, sure that the future would be better. And sure, she whined and complained about things to him, but she always had hope. So for her to be talking about a potential arrest? Fuck, that really said it all.

He hadn't known what to say in response to that when she'd first said it. Why would she think that she was the expendable one here? She'd explained it, of course, focusing on how Drake could speak Greek, how he was the one earning any money. But he just couldn't see it that way. Riley was tougher than anyone he knew. Any little pittance of tasks he was taking care of, he was sure she would have found a way to handle it if she'd had to. After all, she had initially been planning to do it all on her own. She had taken care of herself back in New York since she was a teenager. She would be able to do it again, Drake was sure.

But she was convinced, both that she was the right one for the job and that Drake was better for their daughter. And if his wife was one thing, it was stubborn. She never gave up on anything once she dug her heels in and made up her mind. So she was dyeing her hair and meeting up with Leo tomorrow, and that was that. Drake hadn’t thought his stress levels could climb any higher than they’d been the past couple of weeks, but the thought of her taking this risk made him want to throw up.

He glanced over at Bridget, napping peacefully at the head of the bed. He wondered how much of what was going on she was able to process. Not that she would know what was happening, but did she miss her dogs or her Aunt Hana? Did she think it was weird that she didn’t have her own room or crib, but instead just shared a bed with them? Did she even notice that she hadn’t been home in weeks?

Bridget wasn't the only one he was worried about how they were coping and handling everything. He hadn't heard from Liam since that one phone call almost three weeks ago, either publicly or personally. He'd scoured all the news sites for coverage of the ball welcoming Hana as the Duchess of Valtoria, but all he'd been able to find was that Liam attended the event. He didn't appear to have answered any questions from the press, and he certainly hadn't issued a formal statement. 

He just wanted one sign, one thing he could point to that would show that Liam was doing okay. Or at least as okay as circumstances would allow. Something that would ease at least a little of the guilt that had moved into his gut. But Liam was staying out of the spotlight, and Drake couldn't help but think that was a bad sign.

He contemplated calling Liam almost every day, but he always stopped himself. Their last conversation still stuck with him. Sometimes he just felt terrible, thinking about the way he handled things, how he couldn’t just let Liam vent on the day he lost his title. Other times, he got pissed, remembering how dismissive Liam was over the stresses they were facing, for the way he showed no sympathy for the fact that the same no-confidence vote that stripped him of his job aimed to take away their kid. Usually, it was a muddled combination of the two that Drake didn’t really know how to handle. So he just didn’t. Liam had made it pretty clear he was done with them anyway.

Over the past couple of weeks, he’d wracked his brain, trying to figure out if there was a way he could have handled everything better. Some way that kept Bridget and Riley safe that didn’t complicate things for Liam. He always came up empty. It was the only thing that kept him going, the knowledge that there wasn’t some magical choice he could have made that would have allowed him to be there for everyone he cared about. This was always going to suck. There was no way to prevent that.

The creak of the bathroom door jolted him out of his own head. He twisted around to look at Riley as she emerged, blinking a couple of times as he took it all in. She was… not blonde exactly. She had told him she didn’t think she’d be able to bleach her hair that light, but it was close. He supposed her hair was a very, very light brown at this point. It was jarring. She didn’t look bad or anything, but even knowing she was going to be dyeing her hair, it still kind of caught him off guard, seeing her like that.

“So am I recognizable as a disgraced former duchess?” she quipped, tossing her hair back over her shoulder.

Drake couldn’t think of anything to say, so he just shook his head. It was just hard to process that she could walk into the bathroom looking like his wife and walk out so different. His brain was scrambling to try and keep up.

Something about his reaction must have bothered her, because she frowned. “What is it, Drake?”

He just shook his head again. “It’s nothing, Walker.” He knew it was nothing. It was just some hair dye. But she just looked different without her crazy dark hair. And as Riley so often pointed out, he didn’t do great with change.

Riley smiled gently at him, walking over and sitting down on his lap, looping her arms around his neck. “I take it you prefer dark hair,” she said, threading her fingers through the hair along the nape of his neck. 

He paused at that. She wasn’t wrong, but that wasn’t really it. “It’s just… one more change, I guess,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll get used to it.”

“Oh, stop with the sweet talk or else I'll blush,” she said, her fingers continuing to weave through his hair as she gave him a little smirk that made it clear she was teasing him.

“You know what I mean, Walker,” he said, rolling his eyes as his hands settled on her hips.

“I do. In fact, I’m still deciding how I feel about this,” she said, pulling one hand forward and running it along his jaw.

"My beard?"

She nodded. "I actually never dated someone who wasn't clean-shaven."

Well, that was interesting information to file away for later. "And what's the verdict?"

She leaned back and let her eyes really trace over his face with so much intensity, Drake felt his cheeks growing warm. "Undecided still," she finally settled on, inching back towards him with a nod.

"Come on, you have an opinion on everything. You can tell me if you hate it."

"I don't hate it, Drake. It kind of suits you. It's just… well, the reason you grew it just kind of hangs over everything, you know?"

"Riley…"

She just gave her head a little shake before sliding her hand back around his neck, tugging herself closer to him and tucking her face against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms tighter around her back, feeling her let out a sigh. He wished he knew what he could do or say to make things better. But the sad truth was that nothing could make this better right now.

"I'm so sorry, Drake," she muttered against his neck.

"For what?" 

"For… I don't know. I just feel like I should be sorry… about all of it, I guess." She kept her face tucked against his skin, her voice somewhat muffled. It was a sure sign she felt uncomfortable, so Drake just hugged her tighter, dropping his head to rest on top of hers.

After several moments, Riley shifted on his lap, so Drake loosened his hold on her, allowing her to lean back and look him in the eye.

"You don't have to do this, Riley. You don't have to meet with Leo. I can go."

But Riley shook her head. "No, it should be me." Her voice was quieter than usual, but there was something in her eyes that told him not to push her on it. She was scared, but she was sure. So he just nodded, running a hand through her now much-lighter hair.

"I'm not going to go into the restaurant tonight, okay?"

She frowned at that. "Drake, I-"

"-I'm gonna lose that job anyway tomorrow night when I don't show up. My boss made that clear. I just…” Drake trailed off. He couldn’t bring himself to say it, to vocalize his fear that Riley might not come back from her meet up with Leo tomorrow night. Sure, he knew he was risking arrest every time he went to go work at that shitty restaurant, but realistically, no one was looking for a former duke in the back of the kitchen of a tourist trap, hands submerged in soapy water, scrubbing dish after dish. 

Leo attracted attention, and his presence in the country where known fugitives were hiding was bound to be seen as at least a little suspicious. It was very probable that Leo’s movements in Greece were going to be closely monitored by not only Cordonia’s intelligence agents, but Monterisso’s as well, if Amalas’s earlier interest in their whereabouts was any indication. And that didn’t even touch on the possibility that this could be a set up of some sort. Drake didn’t think it was. Leo hated the monarchy with a burning passion, and Olivia had been solid in trying to help them in little ways from the start of this whole mess, but without being there for discussions, Drake didn’t know how or why this was happening. 

The fact was that tomorrow was going to be a massive risk. But they didn’t have a choice; it’s what they needed to do. Riley knew it. He knew it. But that meant that he didn’t want to spend tonight sweating his ass off and getting sworn at in Greek for not working fast enough. He just wanted to be with his wife and kid, and based on the way Riley was acting, he got the feeling it might do her some good, too.

Riley seemed to get where he was coming from, even without him articulating his horrible thoughts, as she just nodded and shifted back to hug him tightly again.

“Okay, Drake. Okay.”

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

Riley shifted in her seat, trying to avoid drawing attention to herself. She needed to keep her head down, not wanting her face to be clearly visible, but staring at the table constantly was really suspicious looking. So she just sipped her drink and played mindless games on her phone, making sure her hair swung in front of her face somewhat. It was the best she could do.

Leo was supposed to be at this bar by now. Based on what Drake had told her, she wasn’t exactly surprised, and it wasn’t like he was hours late or anything. But she had no way to get in touch with him, and the stress of not knowing was getting to her a bit. She kind of figured the fact that this was her first time out in almost two weeks was also a factor in her anxiety here, as was the fact that this was the first time Bridget was not right with her, or just in the next room over, since they’d fled the palace. But she needed to do this for her family.

When she’d told Drake that she should be the one to meet up with Leo, he’d put up the fight she’d expected. But she knew that it made more sense for her to be the one to do this, so she pushed him on it until he saw it her way. The fact was, she was terrified. Terrified of being caught and arrested without any way of letting Drake know what happened, terrified of being separated from her daughter, terrified of all of it. But that was why she had to be the one doing this. 

Drake was going out everyday, taking on those same risks and stressors, all to earn them some money and food. He’d followed her out of Cordonia, knowing it would cost him so much. He’d kept them afloat from the start, planning and buying and communicating and doing all the things Riley wasn’t able to do. She needed to do this one damn thing, if only to stop being a massive drain on Drake and their family.

She couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that Drake still seemed to worry about her. He would be highly justified if he decided to resent her after everything she put him through. He was doing all the hard work, and he had been the one reluctant to flee. Hell, he could have hated her for the fact that she was initially ready to take Bridget and run without him. But he didn’t seem to be mad about it at this point. He didn’t even bring these things up.

But Riley knew she shouldn’t keep pushing her luck on that front. Drake was running himself ragged trying to support them, and if she didn’t start contributing here, the resentment would start creeping in, slowly but surely. She would become this woman who ripped him away from his home and lifelong friends, only to make him carry massive burdens. She just knew it. So, this meeting with Leo was something she needed to do. It was one area where she could be the helpful one, the useful one. She needed to step up and handle it.

So, she’d dyed her hair, handed Drake her engagement and wedding rings, and put on her customer service blank smile and headed out. Meeting Leo at the casinos was out since there would be way too many security cameras, but Olivia had arranged for them to meet at a bar that was along the route back from the casinos to his hotel. It hopefully wouldn’t look too suspicious for him to stop in for a drink at the end of his night.

After 25 more minutes of painful waiting, including two brush offs of men who tried to buy her a drink, she finally noticed Leo come through the door, two pretty women in tow. They settled in at a booth in the back corner, and Riley waited. Leo was supposed to approach her; that was the plan. But knowing he was right there, just a few feet away, made it hard to stay put. Her instincts told her to jump out of her chair and to get what she needed from him right away so she could get going and get back to her family.

But she resisted the urge. She sat there, waiting, because she needed to do this right. This whole gamble would be for nothing if she messed things up in the final stretch. After what felt like a lifetime, she finally noticed Leo walking over to her table, two drinks in hand.

“Why is a pretty woman like you drinking all by herself?” he asked, sliding a drink over to her.

“I’m picky about who I keep as company. You might be just who I am looking for, though.”

Leo grinned at her response, taking a sip from his glass of scotch. “Loving the hair, by the way.”

Riley glanced around, but no one seemed to be paying attention to them. She leaned in closer and hissed in Leo’s ear, “Careful, you aren’t supposed to know who I am.”

Leo waved his hand through the air. “Relax, it’s too loud and busy in here for anyone to notice. Now, drink up. It looks odd that I keep talking to you when you haven’t touched the drink I bought you.”

She tried to keep a pleasant sort of smile on her face as she leaned back and took a long swig from the glass he’d handed her. She didn’t like how… casual he was about the whole thing, but he was right, this needed to look like some mild flirtation. “I didn’t realize you would be bringing friends along for this,” she said, keeping her tone light as she cocked her head back towards the women still sitting in the booth in the back.

Leo just let out a chuckle. “Yes, there was a little change of plan. They think I’m asking you to join us back in my suite, but I am guessing that’s going to be a no from you?”

“Yes, shockingly I think I’m going to pass on that invite.”

“Well, if you change your mind…” Leo reached into his back pocket and pulled out a hotel key card. “The King George, room 517,” he said as he handed it to her before he leaned over and whispered, “We won’t be back for at least 30 minutes. The two duffel bags in the closet are for you. Good luck.” And with that he leaned back and gave her a little wink, sliding away from her table and heading back to join his companions.

Riley knew it would be suspicious for her to bolt immediately after their conversation, so she took three painful minutes to finish the drink Leo bought her, then got up and left, plugging “King George Hotel” into her phone and briskly walking the few blocks to the ritzy hotel.

She tried to look like she belonged, like she knew exactly where she was going as she got into the elevator and rode it to the fifth floor. Like her heart wasn't practically pounding out of her chest with every step she took. Somehow, she made it to room 517 without attracting too much attention. She slid the key into the door, letting out a sigh of relief when she closed the door behind her, alone in a dark and empty suite. 

She knew she didn’t have much time, so started searching, quickly finding two black duffel bags tucked inside one of the closets. She unzipped the first one, and sure enough, there were some of Bridget’s stuffed animals, her leather jacket, and Drake’s winter coat, all visible beneath some bundles of Euros and a file folder that undoubtedly contained their passports and some other personal paperwork.

Time was not on her side, so she zipped the bag back up and grabbed both of them, heading for her door with a smile on her face. She and Drake would have to go through it all together, but for the first time in a long time, she felt like they might have caught a break.

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

Hana shifted on the couch in the palace library, checking the time once again. She was still early; Kiara wasn’t due to meet her here for another eight minutes. 

The social season was officially, finally underway. Tonight was the opening ball, and Kiara had texted her to meet here, away from prying eyes and eavesdroppers. It had been hard to resist checking the time repeatedly throughout the night, knowing that Kiara had picked a time late enough that their absence could easily be written off as them heading to bed, but not wanting to miss this meeting that was of vital importance.

But speeches had been given, including a rousing one from Olivia announcing that House Nevrakis would be putting up Liam Rys as a candidate for king during the Conclave, drinks had flowed, and now even the dancing was starting to wind down. It was finally time to hear what information Kiara was willing to provide.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open, Kiara sliding in gracefully when she confirmed that Hana was the only one in the room.

“Sorry, I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” she said as she sat down next to Hana.

Hana shook her head. “Not at all. How do you want to do this?”

Kiara glanced towards the door. “I suppose there is no point beating around the apple tree here. We could be interrupted at any time. Barthelemy approached my father just over a month ago to discuss the no-confidence vote. I wasn’t there for that meeting, but my father filled me in on the basics before that first vote.” She paused for just a moment, taking a deep breath before she continued. “Merde, Hana. Barthelemy concocted this plan with Godfery almost a year ago, and they aren’t working alone. They have the support of Auvernal.”

Permatag: @walkerswhiskeygirl @octobereighth @kimmiedoo5 @mom2000aggie

TRR/TRH: @iaminlovewithtrr @mskaneko @axwalker @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @debramcg1106 @masterofbluff @sarahx206

Drake/MC: @no-one-u-know @iplaydrake

FoF: @burnsoslow @bobasheebaby​

[gerberbabey]

maybe I'm honestly falling too soon | John B. Routledge

a/n: this is technically a stand alone, but i kinda wish i did a little mini series for the Peterkin!Reader concept...oh well I’ll do that now. love the support for SUMMER, i wish it was better written but I still appreciate ya’ll.

This is technically a reader insert, but I made the reader mixed with Black and Korean. always hashing out WOC representation.

masterlist

summary: You try not to question people’s intelligence. John B saves the day. 

warnings: like rlly bad writing, underaged drinking, hints of racism and stereotyping, that part is based off of a conversation i overheard but if it’s offensive in any way and if you’d like me to take it out or change it pls let me know

♫ Down to Earth by UMI ♫

You weren’t really known to go out much. Partying with either Kooks or Pogues wasn’t the norm for you considering who your parents were. But even if your mom wasn’t the Sheriff and your dad wasn’t a teacher at Kildare County High, your personality alone wasn’t really the “partying” type. Your friends tended to label you as the “sweet” one, or even the “innocent” one. It didn’t necessarily make you mad per se, it was just a bit annoying that the entirety of your being was labelled based off of the fact that you tended to not do things. 

You didn’t label your friends for the things they did, so you found it odd that they labelled you because of the things you didn’t do. 

“Pleeeaaase (Y/N), John B and his crew throw the best keggers and you’ve only gone to like one!” 

“Nicky, I just...really don’t want to, ok?” you’d been trying to decline Nicky all day. This was the 5th time she’d brought it up today, not to mention the amount of times she’d brought it up this past week. Maybe if it had happened yesterday or even tomorrow you would’ve felt more up to it. Today didn’t feel like a good day to party. At least not to you. 

“(Y/NNNNNN)!” Nicky whined and you only sat patiently as she shook you, “Please just this once? Ok I heard that Kelce’s gonna be there and he usually avoids the Cut! This is the perfect oppurtuntiy for me to get closer to him!” 

You hated that she was using her crush on Kelce against you. You truly wouldn’t say that Nicky was either a Kook or a Pogue (you didn’t even think you were either a Kook or Pogue) but she’d developed a crush on him due to her sudden frequent attendance at the country club with her cousins. She barely spoke to him and barely had the chance to but she insisted that he was a “great guy who just get’s pressured by his asshole friends”. You supported anything Nicky did (lest it get her hurt) and Kelce had only ever been kind to you. 

“Ok...fine,” you sighed and Nicky squeed in excitement. 

“Oh my god yes! Finally!” Nicky cheered and you only rolled your eyes playfully as she tackled you into a hug. 

_____

John B casually strolled through the aisles of the grocery store. He’d been taxed with getting a few snacks to stash in the Twinkie so that they had some food of their own at the party. 

“Relax ok, I just really wants some chips.”

John B perked up at a familiar sounding voice and straightened up as you and your best friend walked around the corner of the aisle. He licked his lips as he gave you a quick look over. You were dressed in your usual aesthetic, a long high waisted skirt, a tank top that was tied to cinch at your waist, large wire framed glasses on the bridge of your nose, and your bouncy curls pushed back with a bandana in your hair.

“Oh, hey John B.” 

John B shook himself out of his stupor and flashed you a wide grin, nodding to Nicky, who only gave him a look of suspicion. 

“Hey (Y/N), what are you doing here?” That question wasn’t too out of place, you lived closer to the bigger grocery store chains than the family owned one’s in the Cut. 

“I just wanted to get some chips, Heyward’s is the only store that has the one’s I like,” you gave him a sweet smile and John B tried not to melt. 

“That’s-That’s really cool,” he stuttered and he licked his lips awkwardly as his eyebrows raised. You blinked at him, the smile on your face twisting a bit in confusion as you glanced at Nicky for a moment before looking to John B again, “I mean sorry-um...Kegger!” John B put up a hand in realization, “We’re gonna have a Kegger tonight at the Boneyard. Will I see you there?” 

“Yeah for sure,” you smiled at him and he gave you that grin that’d always made you think of the sun. You’d always thought John B was cute. Probably more than cute really. He was tall (6 foot maybe?), and his body was built ridiculously...nice for a 16 year old. Plus he was like one of the sweetest guys you’d ever met. 

“Are you gonna be manning the Keg the whole time?” you teased as you grabbed two bags of your favorite chips. Nicky took them from you, looking between you and John b from off to the side. John B scoffed at your comment.

“Nah, I’ll drag JJ to do shifts if he even tries to run away from it,” the last time they threw a Kegger, John B and Pope had been ditched to man the keg. JJ had run off with some touron and Kie was hard to say no to when she insisted it wasn’t her turn. 

“So that means you’ll save me a dance?” you bit at your bottom lip as John B looked at you in surprise. He’d always thought of the two of you as friends, you and your mom were oddly involved in his life but he didn’t mind. He wasn’t going to complain about having people give a shit about him. 

“Yeah...yeah definitely,” John B confirmed and you giggled before waving to him goodbye and leading Nicky away to go pay for your chips. John B stared at where you were standing just a second ago before he turned to watch you over his shoulder. He barely caught Nicky shaking you by the arm before the two of you disappeared around the corner of the aisle. 

________

“Is that...(Y/N)?” Pope asked, passing some random Touron a filled red solo cup. John B looked up from where he was filling up a Kook’s cup and turned to where Pope was pointing. It was indeed you. You were standing in group with a few Kooks. Nicky was standing close to Kelce, the two of them seemingly in their own world and you were stuck interacting with Topper, Rafe, and some other Kook guys he didn’t recognize. 

“Yeah,” John B confirmed and Pope glanced at him for a moment before turning his attention back to you. 

“She looks like she’s having a great time,” Pope pointed out sarcastically and John B straightened up. Pope was right, and even from this far away he could tell. You had a perplexed look you on your face as you listened to one of the ook boys talk and your body language was closed off. You had your arms wrapped around yourself and you were switching the weight of your feet back and forth. 

“Maybe you should go save her?” Pope suggested and John B turned to him. 

“Nah, nah she’s probably fine,” John B shook his head, reaching for the eg hose once again. Pope snatched it out of his hands. 

“C’mon John B, you really wanna risk that?”  Pope stated matter of factly and he cringed as he looked back to you. You looked more and more uncomfortable by the second. 

“Alright...” John B dusted his hands off on his swim trunks and began to weave through the crowd to get to you, leaving behind a grinning Pope. 

Across the way, you were trying your best not to let much show on your face but you couldn’t help but cringe at everything this guy was saying. You were pretty sure he had done a line of something (probably supplied by Rafe) but you were beginning to think you should definitely put yourself in a safer environment. You hadn’t been the most bothered by Topper or Rafe, they were usually polite to you, but when three more Kooks stepped up to you, you were left to deal with five Kooks who were all under some type of influence while Nicky talked with Kelce. 

“Y’know, you have like really nice eyes,” one of the kooks pointed to you and you smiled. 

“Oh thank you-”

“They’re like real narrow. Do you put like make up on?” That threw you off guard and your mouth drpped open in shock at the question. Topper hit the boy in the chest and the Kook shot him a look of confusion, “What man?”

“Dude you can’t say that shit,” Rafe laughed and you were uncomfortable with the idea that he found it funny for a different reason other then idiocy. 

“What she’s got like real narrow eyes. So what how do you do that?” 

“Well um-” you stammered, “I’m just...Asian?” 

“Wait you’re Asian?” one of the other boys cried out, “I thought you were black?” 

Rafe snorted at that and you could feel the discomfort in your chest increase. 

“I-I am black. My mom’s black and my dad’s Korean...” you explained. Your cheeks burned and your palms were clammy due to your nerves. 

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry...” the first boy laughed, “Wait, I swear I’m not racist or anything. You’re gorgeous.” 

You wondered how your beauty had anything to do with his questions about your race. 

“Like, my sister’s just always talking about like fox eyes or whatever and she’d probably love to have eyes like yours.”

You sucked in a breath at that. Could this guy be anymore cluelessly offensive? At this point you were beginning to question his intelligence altogether. But you weren’t a confrontational person and the thought of calling him out on his bullshit terrified you. You also definitely weren’t in a position to act brave. 

“Uh hey! (Y/N)?” you turned in shock and almost cried out in relief at the sight of John B calling you. 

“What do you want Pogue?” Rafe hissed out and you looked up at him before rushing over to John B. 

“Oh hey John B, I was actually looking for you, sorry guys,” you barely turned to look back at the circle of Kooks before you were leading John B away by the hand, completely ignoring Rafe’s calls. 

When you were a good ways away, and a little closer to where the keg was, you stopped and put a hand on your chest. you let out a laugh of disbelief as you looked up at John B. He looked down at you in confusion, your fingers still intertwined with his.

“Jeez you seriously saved me,” you breathed and John B’s eyebrows raised. 

“Were they doing something-” he looked back over to the boys but you only waved it off. 

“No no, one of them was just...making me lose brain cells,” you laughed, though John B could tell see the discomfort on your face. 

“Doesn’t seem like nothing,” John B pointed out and you only scoffed. 

“I’m used to it at this point,” John B wondered what “it” was. 

“Hey (Y/N)! What’s up?” the two of you turned to Kie as the girl walked up to you, a wide grin brightening her expression. 

“Nothing much just, being a damsel in distress,” you looked up at John B with a teasing smile and he rolled his eyes. 

“I literally only called your name,” he recalled and you laughed. 

“And that saved me, the damsel, from my distress!” you reassured. 

Kie chuckled despite her confusion. She gave a pointed smile at your guys’s hands but the two of you were too distracted by one another. Kie wondered when John B was finally gonna tell you he liked you. 

“You guys are real cute,” Kie laughed and the two of you looked at her with wide eyes. Kie regretted opening her mouth as John B realized the two of you were still holding hands. He quickly pulled his hands out of yours, wiping his sweaty palms onto his shorts. You looked a little disheartened as your hands came forward to fidget on the knot of your shirt. 

“Nevermind,” Kie mumbled. She shook her ehad before walking away from the two of you to go help Pope with the Keg. You watched her walk away, the tips of your ears feeling hot. 

Your fingers fidgeted with one another as you looked up at John B from the corner of your eye.

“So um...” John B turned to you, “I think you owe me a dance?” you smiled and a smile began to stretch across his face. You couldn’t help but notice how his eyes were smiling too and the stretch of his cheeks caused his freckles to shift. 

“Would you like to dance?” John B questioned you and you pretended to think. 

“Hmm I don’t know, the guy who’s asking me to dance is being kinda...dry about it,” you pretended to cringe and John B rolled his eyes. 

He stepped back away from you and turned you so that two of you were facing one another rather than standing side by side. He held out a hand and you glanced between it and his expression. You tilted your head giving him raised brows and he laughed before getting down onto one knee. He put one arm behind his back and offered a hand out to you as you laughed at his antics. 

“Lady (Y/N) may I please have this dance?” he asked loudly and a few people chuckled as they watched him. You looked away, your cheeks burning as you tried to stop yourself from geeking out. You looked back at him again, biting at your cheek as you placed a hand into his. 

“Why of course,” you confirmed and John B hopped up to his feet before leading you into the middle of the dancing bodies. You weren’t to sure what song was playing but the bass was loud and the energy was high in that medium sized pocket of dancing people. 

You made a graceful turn, John B’s hand still in yours, and pressed your back up against John B’s front. The two of you swayed to the beat of the song as John B let go of your hand to put his hands on your skirt clad hips. He pressed himself close to you and you threw your curls over to your right side so he could lean his face down close to yours. 

The two of you grinned at each other as the song moved your body for you. 

“Those two are...definitely in love,” Pope pointed out, taking a sip from his drink. 

“Absolutely,” Kie nodded as she copied Pope’s actions. 

The two of them ignored JJ’s whines about the keg as they watched you and John B dance. 

will this be a series? who knows.....

[loser-writings]

I am here to break the door up and request NSFW alphabet for Toshinori ♡

One lanky hero coming right up!

N/SFW Alphabet || Toshinori Yagi

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He really tries his best to take care of you after but due to his injury, he can only do so much. He is pretty exhausted, but that won’t stop him from cleaning you up as much as he possibly can.

He also lives for pillow talk. He will hold you close to him and let his hands caress your body softly, talking about whatever comes to his mind.

If it really took a lot out of him, you may be the one who has to take care of him. Get him some water, make sure his body isn’t hurting, If you want to make him feel shy and loved, hold him. Be the big spoon or let him fall asleep on your chest. He will be a shy yet sweet mess.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He is pretty insecure since he isn’t as big and muscular as he used to be, but he loves his hands. They’re large and he loves to tease you by comparing hand sizes. Not only that, he loves how his hands can bring you comfort simply by holding your hand tight. It makes him still feel like a hero even if it isn’t a large action.

His favorite thing about you would have to be your legs. He just love how beautiful they are, and he loves to trace the shape of them with his eyes. When you both are alone, he will often pull your legs over his lap and rub them. It’s not really a sexual thing, but more a basic admiration for your body.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He is so bashful about his cum honestly. He doesn’t like making a mess with it, but he will pull out and cum on your thighs if you don’t want him cumming inside. He also seems to lean on the heavy producer side of things.

He will never expect you to swallow his cum and will never give you a facial. It would embarrass him so much. Not saying he would turn down a blowjob, but god he understands if you don’t want to swallow.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He is a switch so he wouldn’t be opposed to you taking the lead now and then. Especially with how weak his own body is, he feels a bit guilty that he can’t please you as well as someone else may be able to. 

Also wouldn’t mind doing some hero roleplay, being the civilian or the hero. Sure, he may not be able to hold his hero form for longer than a few minutes, but could see himself being able to work that in as well. He will never say that out loud though.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He knows the basics honestly, but he never really had a stable sexual relationship since being the symbol of peace really took a toll on any relationships he could have. Also since his injury, his confidence had went down a TON so he is really bashful about sex in general.

That being said, he is a pretty good lover. A little rusty, but he is a quick learner and will quickly be able to please you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Really likes anything that doesn’t force himself to push his body. You riding him is always a safe bet since he can focus more on pleasuring you instead of coughing up blood. 

Sometimes though, he enjoys missionary since he can hold you close. Yeah, it requires for him to do a LOT more of the work, but he loves how close he can be to you. If he had to pick between the two, he prefers this one but he just hates how much work it is and how his body can’t handle it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

God he can’t help but be a little goofy. It is sex with All Might after all. Now he doesn’t go out of his way to be humorous, but it just kind of happens. If something happens, Toshi will just laugh it off and will brush off any embarrassment as long as you are laughing too. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He’s pretty groomed just cause he is uncomfortable and it is maybe a shade darker than the hair on his head. He’s bashful about it though.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Oh my gosh he loves being intimacy. He will go out of his way to show that he loves you even if he is a little cheesy about it. He might light candles or give you roses, but he means well. He also praises like none other and will make sure you know that he adores you. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Only does it if he doesn’t have access to a cold shower or you. He feels like it’s something shameful and will do it as quickly as possible in order to fix his problem.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise Kink: If you praise this man, he might just cry. He seriously loves being praised so much and it really makes him feel good knowing he can please you.

Hair pulling: He really never knew how much he enjoyed having his hair tugged on but once he knew, He may ask you to. It’s also a good way to get him to be a bit more vocal because he may accidentally moan. He will blush so dark when he realizes it though.

Marking: Scratch his back or leave hickeys on him. He never knew how much he would love seeing his shoulders or collarbone covered in love bites. His only request is PLEASE make it to where he can hide them. He would die if his students found out.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He is kind of old fashioned, but he like sex in bed. He just likes how comfortable it can be, and he doesn’t have to worry too much about getting hurt. Also as stated before, he loves to cuddle after so cuddling in the bed is his favorite

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Playing into that ideal domestic life can really get him going. Since he spent so much time playing hero, he never imagined that there would be somebody at home cooking dinner for him, or cleaning in his clothes. It makes him feel whole and as if he was the luckiest man alive.

Speaking of wearing his clothes...Wear them as much as you can. His clothes are often big and baggy on his 7’2 ass, so imagine how big they would be on you? Your shoulder will most likely be peaking out of the collar as you cook and hey! You would most likely be able to get away with not wearing anything underneath.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I think it is pretty obvious that painplay aint his thing, but he struggles with really any extreme kinks. Bondage aint his thing, completely forget gun or knifeplay cause no way in HELL would he be okay with that, choking is a no. Really he is a pretty vanilla guy so please understand that he will try, but it will show quickly if he is uncomfortable.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Let him give. Seriously. Since he sometimes struggles with proper sex, he will often try to please you as well as he can with foreplay or oral. Because of this, he is pretty damn skilled. The first few times, it was messy but he is a quick learner.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He is very gentle, slow, and loving. Since his body can only handle so much, he has to pace himself. If he pushes too hard or tries going too fast, that might result in him hurting himself. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Personally not that big of a fan of them just because he enjoys taking his time with you, but he does have a habit of trying when he knows he shouldn’t. Only 10 minutes before you have to leave? He will insist if you are needy, but he also is very aware of the fact he will most likely hurt himself. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He is pretty open to trying new things as long as it doesn’t require him to hurt you or require himself getting hurt. He likes trying new things, and trusts you a lot so why should he worry about something you suggest. Yes, this has resulted in him figuring out that he doesn’t like 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Really can only go one round and can go for about as long as he needs to in order to make you cum. He gets tired so easily and sex really takes a lot out of him so if you aren’t satisfied, he would most likely use toys til you’re content.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He didn’t own any toys before he got in a relationship with you. He wasn’t very sexually active, so why would he need any toys?

After getting with you, he gets quite the collection. A mix of things he wanted to use on you and things you could use on him. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He really loves teasing. Working you up with his fingers and his mouth is his favorite thing to do. On the other hand, he can’t handle being teased. He will whine and complain the majority of the time til he gets his way.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He isn’t as loud as some, but he isn’t silent either. Giggly sex happens, and an occasional snort will come from him when he is laughing. As already stated, he lives for praise and praising so he is constantly telling you how attractive you are. Other than that, he does tend to moan and grunt a bit, but not too loud (Unless you pull his hair, then he will moan and get bashful about it)

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He is a switch and when he is a top, he really is a service top. He can’t tame brats to save his life either, but when he is a sub...He can be one of the brattiest people you will ever meet. He will try to challenge you, but he really loves when you put him in his place and remind him who is in control.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He is definitely on the bigger side, around 7-8 inches and is a bit thicker too. The first time he is with you, he actually is a bit worried that he might hurt you since he might have had an incident or two in the past about him being “Too big”

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It’s really not that high, but he will please you as much as he can and as often as you want to. He may ask for sex every other week when your relationship is going steady, but if you get in the mood then he is ready to help.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sex seems to give him a small boost of energy so expect him to be up for a while. He will try to take care of you the best he can and will hold you for a bit while chatting. He usually will fall asleep after you too just to make sure that you are safe and content.

[tansypoisoning]

Scrappy Doo

You got in trouble often, and it showed. Worse than every bruise and cut, though, was your front door neighbor’s concern. He didn’t know you; he was too busy to know you. You wished he would stop pretending he cared so you could move on with your life in peace, and never have to deal with intrusive thoughts of what it would be like to have a room in his heart.

Me, writing fluff? More likely than you think (and yet not that likely). This is my entry for @jtargaryen18​‘s “30 Days of Chris” I’m just trying to branch out a little, and since J’s fics tend to end up being really sweet even if they don’t start that way… Well, I thought I’d go for some sweetness too. Ended up calling out myself in this xD. Anyway, I would appreciate if you guys let me know if you think this is okay. Don’t judge the name too harshly please xD

Fandoms: MCU

Genre: Fluff? Hurt/Comfort? Things you wouldn’t expect from me, I guess.

Ships: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 3166

Warnings: Mentions of violence and injury, some blood, non-graphic descriptions of wound dressing

The bits of bandage and specks of blood in the sink were piling up worryingly fast. You had looked at them to take your eyes and mind of the gash in your arm, but you reckoned you should’ve just closed them.

“One of these days you’re going to lose your head,” The woman in front of you grumbled as she weaved needle and thread through your flesh “and I’m not going to put you back together, I swear.”

You tried to tell her ‘If anyone could it’s you, Molly’, but the stiff thrown pillow stolen from her couch so you’d have something to bite muddled the words to the point none of them were recognizable.

You ground your teeth on the linen with every new puncture, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter like a lifeline. It hurt, but you’d be okay. You’d been through worse. Your love of hiking, parkour, urban exploration, political activism and doing good recklessly (emphasis on the reckless bit), meant you often found yourself beaten and bruised and wounded and just fucked up in general, but it was all worth it. Just last week you’d rescued a woman’s purse! Molly didn’t share your enthusiasm.

“I should really charge you for this,” she complained. She said it every time you showed at her doorstep, and every time she would put you back together free of charge.

Nick by nick, all your wounds were dressed and you were good to go. You dropped the pillowcase in the washing machine before making your way to the door.

“Seriously, you gotta start being more careful.” Your friend called. “I get that you can’t always help it, but…. jumping on a rusty ladder, are you kidding me?”

“I can’t make any promises!” You smiled sheepishly and she rolled her eyes “Thank you, Molly. I really appreciate it.”

She sighed, but her lips curled upwards nonetheless “Yeah, I know. I expect to see you again in a week.”

“You know I’ll visit regardless!”

“Hopefully not bleeding!” She yelled just as you turned around to jog back to your apartment complex just across the street. The walk was familiar, if a little uncomfortable. Your bruised legs hurt as you climbed up the stairs, but you were smiling all the way.

You had just shoved the key in the lock when the door across from your place opened, and someone behind you sighed.

“Again?”

You whirled around on the balls of your feet, arms raised in preparation to salute the other person on the hall with you.

“Hello, captain!” You greeted cheerfully, resting your hand against your forehead.

Captain America’s look of disappointment could make just about everyone wilt, and you weren’t the exception. In fact, maybe you were even weaker to it than the average person.

“What happened this time?” He asked.

“Urban exploration,” you said, your voice losing a considerable amount of volume and enthusiasm “I was on some ladders when they broke down.”

The lines of his forehead deepened. No, this wasn’t disappointment; it was concern. That was somehow worse.

Who the hell was he to be concerned about you? He didn’t know you; he was too busy to know you.

“I’m okay, though. Nothing broken or anything.”

“You got stitches.”

You shrugged. “Stitches, schmeeches.”

He didn’t find it amusing. “And you’re still going on these expeditions alone.”

“Well, who else am I gonna do them with?” Most of your friends lived too far away, and the ones who lived near had no interest in your little misadventures.

Steve didn’t answer. He likely didn’t have an answer, but he also didn’t have the decency to wipe that look of faux worry off his face.

“And how are your expeditions on the culture going?” You used his silence to direct the conversation to a more pleasant topic.

You didn’t know much about Captain America – he didn’t really let himself be known – but living across from him had given you some insight on his life. Given he’d been stuck on ice for seventy years, it was no wonder he’d needed help to acclimate to the radically different world he had woken up in. He got used to the social and political changes with surprising ease, and it didn’t take him long to acquire a passable understanding of current technology. What he struggled with was pop culture.

You had been his media dealer for a few months now, supplying him with an endless stream of movies, series and music (some of which of questionable legality, but he didn’t need to know that). He had told you of his difficulty finding some of the things people had urged him to look into, and you offered to help him with that. You used the opportunity to introduce him to some things that you liked, because it was always nice to have another person to talk to about these things.

“It’s been going,” he said, and you were happy to see his expression softening “slowly, but it’s been going. Thank you for the Prince songs, by the way.”

“You’re so welcome,” you answered with a grin. He had initially given priority to media other people had suggested to him, but he’d been getting around to your things in the last two months or so “Have you watched Mr. Rogers Neighborhood yet?”

“Not yet.”

“You really should. Fred Rogers might be the one person who beats Steve Rogers at the whole ‘being a good human being’ thing.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m putting it off,” he smiled, but it was short-lived as he stopped to clear his throat. “I gotta go now.”

“Okay,” you nodded and stepped back to press your back against the wall. The hall was almost too small for the two of you. “Gotta rush to save the World, huh?”

“Something like that,” he said as he moved toward the stairs, but he turned back to you as he reached the railing. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

You recoiled at his words. “Sure.” You answered stiffly, then rushed to open your door before he could say anything else. You didn’t need this. This fake concern, those empty words… You much preferred hostility, that was at least less confusing, less painful.

It really was stupid of you to nurture such a silly crush. Steve was just your front door neighbor. The sooner you accepted that, the better.

Molly wasn’t home, and she wasn’t picking up her phone. Where the fuck was she? It’s not like she had an obligation to help you out, yes, but… She always did help, and now she had to pick the worst possible moment to go M.IA.

The walk up to your apartment was familiar and painful. You were worried about your right arm; it wouldn’t move, and whenever you tried to touch it, it hurt. Could it be broken? You hoped not, but if anyone could be sure, that person was Molly. And she always picked up.

Your key was in your backpack, so you had to take it off before you could open your door. You tried to be quiet, but when the strap brushed your injured arm you couldn’t help but yelp.

Your neighbor’s door opened instantly, and at such a speed you felt the air in the room being rearranged. Steve’s gasp behind you only made you feel worse.

“What happened to you?”

“Nothing,” you sniffed “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.” There was a pause and then a hand was at your right arm, squeezing it as if to turn you around. You were loathe to show any weakness in front of him, but it hurt too much. You howled, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes, and Steve let go. He walked around you, coming to stand in front of you. He didn’t look angry at all, just deeply concerned.

Great. You didn’t need this shit on top of everything else.

“Steve, let me get into my home.”

“Where’s Molly?”

“I don’t know,” you whined. It was getting harder and harder to keep the little composure you still had “Please let me in, Steve.”

“I’m taking you to the hospital.” His voice brooked no arguments, and something about it was too much for you.

You broke down with one sob, then several more, and the look on Steve’s face only grew more worried. “I don’t know if I can afford it.”

“I’m paying,” he said, and you were about to tell him no, but he didn’t give you the chance: “This is serious. You can’t wait this out. I’m taking you and I’m paying for it. Do you need me to carry you or can you walk on your own?”

You wiped at your tears with your good hand and nodded. “Yeah, I can walk.”

You followed Steve out of the building, pausing ever-so-often. Steve would wait for you whenever you did, not once complaining or frowning. He helped you into his car and buckled you in.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” He asked once he’d settled in the driver’s seat.

“I don’t want to.”

He took a deep breath as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t press the issue. You didn’t want to talk about the incident, but you didn’t know what else to talk about, so you kept quiet. Steve didn’t speak much either, occasionally asking you for updates on your state, but otherwise letting the radio do the speaking for you. The songs playing were ones you’d recommended to him, you noticed.

The trip to the hospital was longer than the waiting in the lobby, and thankfully that wasn’t very long. Steve remained outside while you were being patched up. You were glad for it. Having to explain your wounds to the staff was already bad enough, you didn’t need him to hear it as well.

You left the hospital in bandages and with a cast on your right arm. Despite the weight of the plaster, you felt a hundred times lighter, knowing you’d gotten the care you needed for free. Steve didn’t share your enthusiasm. He sighed when he saw you walk out of the room, and you felt your smile slip just a little.

The two of you were quiet when you entered the car. Steve drove in absolute silence for about two minutes before you thought to thank him – and you really were thankful, but thanking him almost seemed a waste. He looked so frustrated, just like everyone else when it came to you. Reckless, hasty, imprudent, you should just know your limits and not go past them. You should just stop doing the things that made you happy and the things you felt were needed because you would get scratched in the protest. That’s what everyone said. You couldn't imagine a super-human who put his life in graver danger every day being any more understanding.

You were about to bite the bullet and thank him, but Steve opened his mouth before you could: “You’re kind of like Scrappy Doo.”

“What?” All your previous feelings of goodwill vanished from you like the air in a popped balloon.

“I started watching some of the cartoons you-”

“I’m surprised you’re even here if I’m such a burden.”

It was his turn to look incensed. “What are you talking about?”

“Scrappy Doo. Am I seriously that much of an annoyance to you?”

“No!” He took his eyes from the road for a brief moment to direct them at you. “I was making a reference. Isn’t that what people like to do nowadays?”

“You compared me to a character everyone hates.”

“I don’t. And I don’t know why anyone would.”

“That’s not-” Your words didn’t come to you as fluidly as you would like them to.  “It doesn’t matter. He’s an annoyance and only ever makes things worse.”

“Is that what you think of yourself?”

“No, that’s just what everyone else thinks of me.”

You looked at the rear view mirror to see him frowning. “Who told you that?”

“You don’t have to tell me anything.” Of course he didn’t. If you were a nuisance to normal people, imagine how pathetic you must’ve seemed to someone as strong as Steve.

“I-” Whatever he was going to say he interrupted with a shake of his head and a sigh. “I shouldn’t say you remind me of Scrappy Doo. Rather… you remind me of me.”

It was your turn to frown. “You?”

“Before I was recruited for the serum program, I used to be very small. Short, frail… that didn’t stop me from getting in trouble whenever I saw injustice. I thought it was wrong to let bullies go unchallenged, even though I knew I couldn’t win. I always had to get rescued, but I kept doing it because I knew it was the right thing to do.”

“And then you got jacked and that helped a lot.”

He laughed. “I’m way better at doing helping out nowadays, but even so… I don’t think you’re an annoyance. I worry about you because I used to get in the same sort of trouble. I ask you to be careful because I’m afraid you won’t come back home one day.”

Your heart leaped in your chest, and then you remembered you had been there before. That wouldn't be the first time someone pretended to care for you on a personal level, then abandoned you when it wasn’t convenient anymore.

“You don’t really know me, Steve. I get if you’re worried about me just like you’re worried about everyone else, but I would rather… It feels fake, you know? Like you’re just helping me because I’m right there, and if one day I didn’t come home you’d just go on worrying about everyone else.”

“No, I-” He started, then cut himself off to huff. “I can’t talk about this while I’m driving. Hold on.”

You were quiet as Steve turned into a side street, darker and quiet than the one you were on. He looked around until he found a place to park, and then turned to you once the engine was off and the key was out of the ignition.

“I do care about everyone. If I was neighbors with someone else and they got hurt as often as you, I would worry and I would help them however I could, but I wouldn't feel the same way I feel about you. If you suddenly didn’t come back I- Why would you think I don’t care?”

“I just don’t see why you would. We only talk when we meet in the hallway, and you don’t look at the things I reccomend you, because you never talk about it.”

“I was watching Scooby Doo when you showed up.” Steve said, and there was an edge of frustration to his voice “Whenever I’m home I’m looking at the things you gave me. I don’t have as much time to learn about the things you like as I wish I had. I don’t have as much time and energy to know you as I wish I did. And you-” He stopped himself and shook his head. “Nevermind. I don’t want to do this when you’re injured.”

“No, tell me.” You and Steve were finally conversing rather than exchanging pleasantries. Now that you were being honest with each other, you didn’t think you could go back to how things were before. “I told you I wanted honesty. And whatever it is you’ve got to say, I bet won’t hurt more than this fucking thing.” And you pointed at your injured am.

He hesitated. He looked back and forth from you to the windshield, then swallowed hard before proceeding. “You put up a wall. I couldn't get you to talk to me about your injuries for months, and every time I ask you to be careful, you brush it off. It’s like you don’t want me to know anything about you.”

You considered his words for a second, then your own feelings for a moment longer. You couldn’t pretend it was just because you didn’t want to be a burden. “This is going to sound weird, but I’m scared I can’t trust you?” You turn to him. His brows are scrunched together, and he almost looks to be in pain. “I know, right? If you can’t trust Captain America, who are you gonna trust?” Your chuckle sounded hollow to your years.

Steve shook his head as his right hand moved from the wheel to latch onto your left wrist. His hold was gentle, and you knew you could pull away if you wanted to. You didn’t want to. “I thought you disliked me.”

His words sent a shock through you. Dislike him? How could he think that when the truth was the exact opposite? Then it dawned on you that you really had avoided him. Whenever he tried to get you to open up you deterred his efforts, like you really didn’t like him, like you didn’t want to know him. You did, you just… You were just afraid of what could happen if you let him in too deep.

“That’s funny.” You said, even though it wasn’t. “I was so scared you wouldn't like me, or you would stop liking me, that I didn’t even give you the chance to do that.”

He was quick to respond: “No. I could’ve talked about different things-”

“It wouldn’t have worked.” You said. The words came to you easily, products of an epiphany rather than a thought. They’re not a product of your own reason, rather a universal truth. “It’s not your job to chip at my barriers. I was avoiding you, I was fighting this. Why would you keep pushing if I gave nothing back?”

“I don’t know why you put up walls.” Steve’s fingers skimmed against your skin. Was he still afraid his touch wasn’t welcome? “You must have your reasons, and I’m not going to ask them. I want to be someone you can trust, but I can’t make you trust me. Do you think… Do you think we could make this work? I’d like to get to know you, if you’re okay with that.”

You pulled your hand from his. His shoulders slumped, but he looked up when you entwined your fingers with his. His surprise was evident, and behind it, subtler, there was something else. You didn’t know what it was, but something in his expression sent your heart fluttering.

“I would like that too.” You said, smiling at the same time he did. “And you can let me know when you’re free so we can watch some series together, and you can explain to me how the hell you don’t hate Scrappy Doo.”

He laughs and squeezes your fingers in his. His touch is reassuring, and you feel nostalgic. You remember your childhood bedroom, and being snug under covers while a hand ran through your hair. Safe. That was the last time you had felt this safe.

[mochikeiji]

Rest Your Heart

↠ Pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x Akaashi Keiji

↠ Warning: TimeSkip AU! Over thinking, anxiety, angst to fluff

↬ Word Count: 2,052

Summary: Everyone has that one person who will always look after them and their well being. Bokuto has had enough of Akaashi torturing himself from all the papers and projects given to him. He didn't like knowing the fact that he was always drowning into an ocean of hardship and darkness, so he steps up his game into letting Akaashi take a break.

⇢ Day 5: Touch (cuddling, hand holding, huddling for warmth), Bed-sharing! @bokuakaweek2020

✎﹏

Working is tiring for everyone. It's even more exhausting to use your brain into thinking with good ideas. What's worse is that sometimes, people tend to force to milk out every bit of their brain juice in order to master and reach their own satisfaction in their work.

Akaashi was not a stranger to that description.

When you work as an editorist, like he is, it's automatically embedded in you that what you must submit it worthy to be read. Like a every writer, the common thing they had was content. Will it be good? Will it be read? Thousands, even millions of thoughts would swarm a single person for that matter. There mustn't be one speck of mistake in your work. Everything must be already there, written, revised and correctly formulated.

Dealing with this especially when you were assigned to take care of a big project from your seniors was a huge amount of pressure for Akaashi. He couldn't say he hated his job nor loved it. But he can tell that he wasn't happy knowing he wasn't taking care of his health anymore.

"Akaashi~ you're taking too long."

Luckily Bokuto was there.

"10 more minutes, Bokuto. I'll be done." he replies without taking his eyes nor hands off of his laptop. Still hunched over his desk, eyes squinting on each word he's typed in so far checking to see if there were grammatical errors or spelling errors that needed to be changed.

"You've said the same thing 6 times way back now, look," raising his foot, Bokuto points it out on their wall clock above his desk, "It's already 7:30 pm. You haven't even touched your onigiri!" Akaashi takes a small glance to his left side. The onigiri's were left cold and untouched for the past hour since Bokuto had bought home, "Seriously, you need to stop over working your self. One of these days you're bound to collapse.." He mutters the last past, not wanting to imagine his beloved Akaashi fall without him around to pick him up.

He hears a frustrated sigh coming from him. When your partner is stressed and you were just trying to help, it usually ends with the stressed one blowing up on the other one. Atleast, that's how other couples work.

"I'm sorry." not for both of them though, neither one would dare to hurt the other one. For one reason, Akaashi was just not the type of person you'd want to yell at, look at him, he's just a quiet, little man trying to pass by. Next is Bokuto, you can never yell at someone who looks like a child filled with innocence, and besides, he was right at this point for scolding him.

"The deadline is in 2 days time..I'm just terrified that if I don't submit something properly written, they'd stop giving me these opportunities." looking over his right side where a stack of papers were unorganized.

"So? Atleast you won't have to over work yourself. It doesn't matter anymore if you can't be happy and healthy." sitting up with crossed legs on the bed, Bokuto observes Akaashi from there, ready to attend to any needs and necessity.

"I'll be marked with a lower rank and get paid little..."

Bokuto knew how much Akaashi wanted to help him pay for their rent and other taxes ever since they've agreed to live with each other. Even though Bokuto had a lot of money in his pocket to aid them both, Akaashi simply doesn't want to be dependent on his lover and let him do all the hard work.

That's why he loved Akaashi so much. Even up until now he was still giving his all to him like in highschool.

His 120 percent in things.

Akaashi leans back on his chair, closing his eyes for a brief moment to gather all his thoughts to think properly. That gave Bokuto a chance to get up from their shared bed quietly as he walks up to him from behind. He wraps his strong arms around his neck from behind, placing a soft kiss on his forehead as he strokes away the frustrated tears now streaming on his cheeks.

"If it ever went down to that, I'll talk to your boss," moving his hand on both of his shoulder blades, he held the male down by pressing on the tight knots that had formed way back, "No objections, Keiji. You've been working hard, if they treat you like shit I'm complaining. There's no fairness." it was endearing to hear that coming from him. He had grown up to be a mature man than he was before. If Akaashi wasn't so frustrated he would've been crying from so much love coming from Bokuto.

He raises both of his hands, cupping Bokuto's smaller ones on his chest, "You're too nice to me." smiling sadly as he let's all pent frustration out with his tears, "I can never know what'll be enough for me to give you."

That was another thing that Bokuto was saddened about. The fact that Akaashi was an over thinker he'd often degrade himself to the lowest of all. To Akaashi himself, he was nothing more than a bother. A hindrance. But to Bokuto, how he wishes he could tell him he was more than enough and that he has given him too much even before.

"You're already good enough," tapping his chin with his fingers, he pushes his head a little, making his eyes flutter open, "I mean it, Keiji."

There was a short pause of silence. Neither one daring to move as they clung onto each other's love language and affection. Pretty soon, Bokuto found this opportunity as a good sign to lead him back to bed for a break. Removing his arms away from the seated male, much to his dismay, he grabs on the plate of onigiri's and walks to their shared bed, placing it on top.

"Come on, I'll eat with you."

Akaashi watches as Bokuto sits back down on their bed with his legs wide enough. Enough for him to fit and sit in between them, and pats the free space.

"But I have to fini—"

"Your dinner, yes, you're gonna finish your dinner. Now sit here!"

He can never say no when it comes to Bokuto whining. With a sigh, using his sleeves, he wipes away all the excess tears. Not bothering to take his glasses off, and stand up from his chair.

"I'm going to get im trouble after this." nesting himself in between Bokuto's legs and leaning his back on his chest. Bokuto hands him an onigiri along with his and watches Akaashi take his first, but small bite. He didn't have the mood to eat from his constant thinking which makes the owl haired male frown deeply.

"No, you're not. Have a little faith. I know you," taking a huge chunk of the onigiri in his mouth, "You always manage to make things work, that's what I love about you." Akaashi didn't like messy people, but he couldn't make any comment on how silly Bokuto looks and sounds with his mouth stuffed.

"Please don't chew your food while talking, Bokuto."

"And please don't be sad in front of the onigiri's, Kei. They have feelings too."

Hearty laughter filled the room coming from Akaashi. Bokuto savored every moment of it. His happiness was his happiness as well.

Watching Akaashi finally take bigger bites and chowing down like a starved man, hr let's him have all the onigiri's to himself, using an excuse that he was already full. He can see the way his eyes sparkled shyly as he took all the rice filled meals into his stomach.

"Hmm, you're getting kinda chubby there, Keiji," pushing his pointer finger on his cheek, he watches it squish adorably from his touch, "Not that I'm complaining. You look hot and cute." grinning when he saw his lips pout a little with his cheeks growing red, he couldn't help but pinch them.

"Bokuto please, I'm trying tk eat."

"I wasn't suggesting anything!"

Disposing the plate to their night stand, Akaashi wipes the side of his mouth with his sleeve, Bokuto hugging his stomach with his hands rubbing them.

"You're so soft, Keiji." he hums, squishing the baby fat from the smaller male.

"I need to get to work." he was feeling embarrassed. Had he really gained weight that much? Akaashi was taking a note in his mind that he was going to join Bokuto in jogging next time.

"But its late. And you need to rest." nuzzling his head on his shoulder. He really didn't want to see another one of those nights Akaashi would be sitting, hunched on his desk until sunrise.

Stroking his stomach to his chest, Bokuto whines a little when Akaashi tries half heatedly to break from his hold, "And I wanna cuddle you to sleep. It gets lonely when you always leave and work yourself to the bone."

There were times Akaashi would slip from his hold around 3 am to get back to work. During those times Bokuto would pretend to be asleep and wait for his return. And he got pretty upset he's reached until the birds started chirping. The bed was cold without him.

Akaashi feels the guilt rising from him as he remembers all those times he's left the older male. Thinking of what was more important, he forces the arms around his stomach down and turns his body to face him. Bokuto already had a sad expression on his face knowing he was still going to over work himself. It was already part kf his nature.

Until Akaashi wraps his arms around his neck and pushes him down to bed with him placed on top of Bokuto.

"I thought you were going back to work?" nonetheless, Bokuto wraps his arms tighter around Akaashi. He flinches when he feels him started to shake and his neck getting wet.

He was crying again.

Petting his head, Bokuto reaches out for his glasses, removing them and placing it gently on their night stand near the plate. He pushes his head deeper on his neck side, allowing him to cry as he whispers sweet words next to his ear.

"I promise, Keiji. You're already fine as you are. Please, let me take care of you."

He hears a choked sob escape from his lips, "You don't have to keep doing this if it doesn't make you happy. If you're doing this for me then I'm not hapoy if you're not." sniffling from his words, Akaashi listens to him, finding his body warm and home like feeling. His words soothing like a sweet lullaby.

"I don't care about anything, Keiji. I'm hapoy because I have you. But I'm more happier to see you happy and well."

Turning his head, golden eyes meeting teary gun metal ones, Bokuto swipes away the tears again with his thumb and places a small smooch on the tip of his nose.

"You're already enough for me and others. So please," pressing his forehead against his, they both closed their eyes, feeling their breaths close and their bodies warm with fluttering feelings, "Take a break for me."

Akaashi knows to himself sooner or later he'll crumble again like today. He knows to himself that he couldn't help but let his thoughts overcome his sight on things. But that didn't matter right now.

He was in his arms, and that's all he could think of with his presence.

"I love you so much." whimpering softly as he buries his face against his neck again. He felt so safe and secure woth Bokuto around. Loved. That everything around him got a little better. Brighter. It made him nuzzle even more into him and his small arms squeezing him.

Bokuto counters back the same squeeze of affection and kisses the side of his ear. His breathing soon slowing down and into a calm one before he hears soft snores from Akaashi.

"I love you too, Keiji. Sleep tight."

That day Bokuto doesn't sleep until 3 am. He has spent his night watching over him. Occasionally stroking his hair or back whenever he moves from his position.

He wasn't going to let anything ruin Akaashi and his peace for the day.