#ferry are you also feeling normal right now

[miodiodavinci]

was anyone going to tell me that kyo's dad followed me on twitter and gave a shout-out to some of my works

[dreamertrilogys]

dating dani has made me feel SO #normalcore (not in a bad way obviously) like this is the most NORMAL i’ve felt in my life (not that feeling abnormal was bad: i have a tumblr complex.) but like i’m just some 16 year old guy with his first girlfriend. & i skip school for fun (hanging out purposes). that is the most normal-est thing on planet earth

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three

Dustin looks squirrely, which is as weird as it is nerve wracking for Steve. When Dustin looks squirrely it’s usually shit like he’s keeping a baby fucking demo dog as a pet.

Which Steve just...doesn’t want to deal with it any more. He’s had enough. He needs Dustin to have normal kid shit problems, not apocalyptic ones.

So Steve is, silently, praying to whoever will listen that Dustin wants, like, the sex talk or something, and not that there’s an inter-dimensional creature with a taste for nougat in Hawkins.

“Eddie says he’s okay.”

Which, Steve just kind of shrugs, because it’s the same message Dustin’s been bringing back for months. Nancy and Robin have stopped to listen too. John and Argyle have gone on a snack run and the rest of the kids are outside; so this feels kind of worryingly tactical on Dustin’s part that he’s telling a very select group this information.

“I’m pretty sure he isn’t, though.”

“Okkkayyyy...tell us what’s going on,” Robin leans against the counter, and Steve is so glad Dustin chose to do this with the girls here.

“Well,” and Dustin looks squirrely again and Steve figures he...he thinks he must be betraying Eddie, or something, “I thought he was, at first, you know? He was planning campaigns and writing music and just seemed to be...you know. Normal.”

“But…”

“Well he...the last few times I’ve been there he...he hasn’t gotten out of bed and,” Dustin wrinkles his nose, ready for the big betrayal, “there’s always a lot of empty like, beer cans and stuff and...he smells kind of. Bad.”

The girls looks at each other before Nancy finally says, “we will go and see him, don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

Steve watches as Dustin relaxes, and realizes for the first time that this was, probably, way over Dustin’s pay grade, emotionally speaking. They are the adults, and dealing with someone who...well, it’s got to be depression, right? Eddie was never okay, he was faking to start with. Even Steve can figure that out from what Dustin’s just said. Just because they’ve dealt with alternate dimensions and world ending monsters, it doesn’t mean that Dustin is equipped to deal with shit like this – yeah, definitely heavy stuff for a kid. And Eddie, would Eddie have been able to fake it if say the girls, or Steve, had gone over? Would they have noticed a problem that Dustin just, didn’t? Because for all they’ve been through, they’re still just kids. Dustin might not have noticed that Eddie was dragging himself out of bed and cleaning up just for the one or two hours a week that Dustin was stopping by.

But Robin would have...and Nancy definitely would have.

And now Eddie doesn’t have the energy to just...fake it any more, simple as.

This is heavy shit, too heavy for Dustin to have to deal with.

And that’s how Steve ends up ferrying the girls to the brand new Munson trailer, right at the other end of the park from where the old one was. Nancy’s in full investigative reporter mode, Steve can sense it. Luckily, Robin goes first, " we shouldn't have left him this long."

Nancy hums in agreement.

The doors not locked and no one answers, so they all end up spilling unceremoniously into the bedroom.

Dustin was being kind; it reeks of stale cigarettes and sweat. He was being nice about the beer cans too; it’s not just beer cans, worryingly there’s also empty vodka bottles and even a couple of wine bottles in the mix.

This is not something that has happened recently; this has been going on for months.

The place is a mess. Like a can’t even see the floor kind of mess.

In the middle of his visibly dirty bedding, Eddie snores on, oblivious.

“Steve, you get him in the shower, Robin and I will clean this up.”

Steve’s dubious, but he shakes Eddie’s shoulder gently. Nothing.

He tries again, firmer this time, and Eddie comes awake with an undignified snort and hands flapping at Steve’s, trying to get the movement to stop.

Steve can hear the girls rummaging out in the kitchen, looking for trash bags and rubber gloves, maybe a box for the bottles.

Maybe two boxes.

Steve shakes him again, “Eddie come on.”

Eddie does blink up at him then, clearly groggy and confused, but he smiles. Smiles so big and happy, he grasps one of Steve’s hands now, rather than trying to push it away, still smiling, he pulls it up to his mouth and kisses Steve’s knuckles softly.

Steve doesn’t know what his face is doing, but Eddie’s frowning, something like realization dawns on Eddie’s face, and then throwing Steve’s hand away like it’s burning him. Eddie moves quick, scrambling to the edge of the bed and leaning over it, and Steve realizes what’s about to happen a second too late; Eddie starts to throw up just as Steve moves, so his sneakers do get splattered a little bit.

Which...Steve’s probably trudged through worse, realistically speaking. There’s not really anything Steve can do about it now, so he gingerly sidesteps the splatter of vomit and, briefly, feels really sorry for the girls, “come on Munson, up.”

Eddie grumbles nonsensically, but does allow Steve to heave him up, his head lolling, still clearly very drunk. Eddie doesn’t put up much of a fight when Steve strips him; made easy by the fact that he’s wearing a stained tee shirt and dirty boxers that Steve abandons in a smelly pile on the bathroom floor.

He’s too thin; far too thin. Barely any weight at all on Steve’s arm, ribs all knobbly and skin stretched strangely over his joints.

Eddie slides to the floor under the warm water and Steve, not wanting to get any damper, makes no effort to stop him. At least sitting on the floor he’s safe; he can’t fall any further. Steve vaguely recalls something about little kids being able to drown in an inch of water, and keeps half an eye on Eddie as he digs around for toiletries.

He finds a sad bar of soap and shudders, but it’ll do. Steve gives Eddie the most perfunctory scrub down ever, doing his best not to look at or be aware of any part of Eddie’s body as he flicks the cloth over it.

The towel that’s hanging up looks dubious, but better than nothing.

Eddie’s showing no sign of rousing; Steve has no idea if he’s just...really really drunk still, or if he’s hiding. Steve’s brain prods at what he saw; Eddie’s reaction to him.

There’s one logical conclusion that he’s trying his best to avoid. Unfortunately, no matter how he angles it...his conclusion remains the same. There’s one obvious answer. Eddie looks like a sad drowned rat under the water, and Steve shuts it off, covering him with the one sad towel.

Eddie shivers without the heat of the water, and Steve tries not to feel guilty. This isn’t his fault. He’s not...if Eddie had a Steve, he’s not him. He didn’t, die, or anything. It’s a bit of a headfuck, and thankfully Robin interrupts by shoving the door open far enough to press through a bundle of clothes; black sleep pants and a hoodie, but better than nothing, “there’s no clean clothes, it’s the best we could find,” she whispers.

Which, okay, they’re kind of musty, but at least not obviously dirty.

Eddie huffs through Steve pulling his clothes on, standing awkwardly as Steve pulls his pants up like you would with a little kid.

Steve dumps him on the couch; immediately feeling bad about the whole thing. Guilt, maybe, but he pushes that away harshly because this isn’t Steve’s fault. It’s no one’s fault.

Well, except for the labs and then One. But there’s no one here to blame and it’s...ridiculous that Steve would feel bad about it.

This isn’t the time. Eddie’s passed out again, so Steve gets a glass of water from the kitchen, leaving it on the table where Eddie will find it, before he goes to help the girls.

“We absolutely cannot leave him here.”

“No, agreed, being alone is not good for him.”

“He’s not alone,” Steve protests, “Wayne’s here.”

“And Wayne works twelve hour nights six days a week and has done nothing about this so far,” Nancy replies, brooking no argument, “we’ll take him to yours, he needs to dry out.”

“Mine?” Steve squeaks, “look, uhm, maybe not mine-”

“Why not yours?” Robin cuts him off, “you have the space, and no one else around. I can come and stay, help you keep an eye on him.”

And although all of that is true, Steve doesn’t know how to tell them what he’s just figured out, and having Eddie in his house feels...awkward as fuck.

Eddie’s like a zombie out of one of his games. He has to be encouraged out of bed, Robin putting herself to the task, and that takes a good hour on the really bad days. He picks at toast. He picks at eggs. He picks at whatever's put in front of him.

He doesn’t fight it when they take the spirits away, he doesn’t fight it when he’s allocated three beers a day; he never looks for more. He doesn’t fight anything. He’s broken. So broken Steve has no idea what to do about it. The kids come and go, maintaining conversation around Eddie that Eddie will vaguely engage with whenever one of the kids addresses him directly.

Otherwise he sits there, inert. The kids talk about school and their nerd games and all that normal stuff, and then they leave again.

Sometimes it’s just Eddie and Steve in the house, and that's enough to make Steve want to throw himself into the lake; Eddie’s presence is uncomfortable, and Steve immediately feels guilt every time he feels like that.

Eddie saved their lives. Eddie fought off actual mind control and took out One like it was nothing. Eddie saved the world, at great fucking sacrifice to himself, and Steve feels like a total dipshit every time he has to remind himself of it.

He has to do something for Eddie. He has to try and get through to him somehow.

He has an idea, and when he tells Robin he’s going out for a bit, she doesn’t question it.

Steve delivers Wayne an update when he picks up Eddie’s records. Wayne seems like a good guy, even though he’s completely out of his depth with Eddie, he seems to be able to roll with the punches. He believes the kids want what’s best for Eddie, and that seems to be enough for him for now.

Eddie’s lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, seeing nothing.

Steve picks one of his records at random, ‘Holy Diver. Dio,’ and puts it on the record player on low. He has Eddie’s guitar too, his notebooks, the rule books from his dumb game. Steve brings it all in in bits and pieces and leaves it on the coffee table. He leans Eddie’s guitar against the end of the couch.

By the time he’s finished, Eddie seems more alert; is actually watching Steve. Steve gives him a nod, and leaves him to it.

It changes something. Something undefinable. Eddie seems to be...making an effort. Robin says she thinks he’s coming around; remembering how to be a person. She thinks he’s making a good first step. He still drinks three beers a day, but they’re pretty much the weakest ones available and Steve thinks he’s doing it more out of habit than anything. There’s no other alcohol in the house.

What Steve thinks he knows has been gnawing at him too. Bothering his insides. He understands the girls logic; this is probably the best place for Eddie to be, but given what Steve thinks he’s figured out, this might also be the absolute worst place for Eddie to be.

He feels like he’s haunting him; the dead love of Eddie’s life, following him around every single day. Steve can’t even imagine what that’s like; Eddie even just having to look at him must hurt. Other questions always follow, like, why Steve? Was it random? Eddie must be gay, right?

Was Steve just the easiest one for Eddie’s brain to summon up in the moment? Or was there something else there, feelings that were easy to manipulate? Was there a reason it was Steve, or not?

He could spend hours chasing the thoughts if he let himself. Instead he makes himself and Eddie something to eat, a couple of sandwiches, and then takes them through. He sits, eating his own, and watching as Eddie nibbles on his. Things have moved; even as Steve watches, Eddie puts down the sandwich and scribbles in his notebook.

Steve’s just getting up to leave when he stops at the sound of Eddie clearing his throat, he still won’t look at Steve when he speaks, “thanks, uhm, for getting my stuff.”

It’s been a while since Eddie has spoken to Steve directly, and Steve hesitates a second, feeling like this is his chance to try and...he doesn’t know. Say something meaningful. Fix Eddie, somehow, say the exact right thing to make it better, eventually he just says, “no problem, man.”

Eddie nods, Steve waits in case there's more, but there doesn’t seem to be. He makes it to the kitchen door before Eddie speaks again, “you guys, you’ve probably saved my life.”

He is looking up as Steve now, chewing on the end of his pencil nervously, “you saved ours first,” Steve tells him.

Eddie huffs out the smallest, driest laugh, “didn’t realize it was a competition, Harrington.”

Steve leaves him to it, it’s not much, but it’s a start.

“You had a kid, right? Tell me about them?” It’s a push Steve knows. Their brief conversations turning into the occasional ten minutes on the deck when they both go out for a cigarette might have become regular, but they’re by no means secure. Steve might be about to bring the whole fragile thing down, but he needs to know. It’s eating him alive.

Eddie just shakes his head, ‘no.’ and sips at the beer he has. A beer Steve is pretty sure Eddie should not have, even if it is only a psychological thing, at this point, but Robin continues to be adamant that Eddie going completely cold turkey would be a really bad idea, so Eddie continues to have an allowance.

‘Well, fuck it,’ Steve thinks, ‘might as well try it,’ “come on, they were ours, right?”

Eddie snorts, “she was always more like you than-” he stops, cutting himself off. But it’s all the confirmation Steve needs.

Eddie looks at him then, horrified, before scrambling up.

“Eddie, stop, it’s okay-” Steve tries.

“Fuck you Harrington,” Eddie growls at him with more emotion than Steve's seen in Eddie since the whole thing happened, and then throws the beer bottle, not at Steve, exactly, but close enough that broken glass scatters around his shoe, beer smattering the patio slabs and the smell of it rising to fill Steve’s nose almost immediately.

Eddie stomps into the house, and Steve can hear Robin asking what happened, clearly concerned; she must have heard the bottle smash, “I cannot stay here with him,” Eddie spits, before the moment passes.

Robin comes out a moment later, “Nancy’s with him, what the fuck just happened?”

Steve’s a little stunned by the confirmation and then the close run in with the beer bottle, but regardless he wouldn’t hide this from Robin, “it was me, Robs. The...Eddie’s wife? I guess, not a wife, me.”

@autumncrocusandladybug @duckyreads @neonfruitbowl @slv-333 @starlight-archer @skys-archive @justdreamersdream @moomkin77 @prazinos @dragonmama76 @lingeringmirth @darkwitchoferie @weirdandabsurd42 @zoeweee @thennic @xiaq @tinyplanet95 @steddieyourself @chrystal-lovee @futuristicunknown86 @grtwdsmwhr @mugloversonly @wonderland-girl143-blog @a-little-unsteddie @marvel-ous-m @ajeff855 @gutterflower77 @thedragonsaunt @xxbottlecapx @hairdryerducks @catateme9 @gleek4twd @jaytriesstrangerthings @rovia2323 @carlajim98 @stevesbipanic @steddiecameraroll @thermofisherscientific @ninjapirateunicorns @whenindoubtb72 @dreamwatch @spectrum-spectre @eddiethehunted @sticknpokelightningbolt @kittycatcrackhead @hawkinshighflunkee @plasticcrotches @metalmunson @rosered93 @p0lybl4nkk @bluexvelvet @nicememerino @semi-precious-stoner @persnicketysquares @bj-freeplay @practicallybegging @yesdangerpls @cryptid-system @nadineseaday @platinum-sunset @bookworm0690 @clockworkballerina

[bandgie]

Wish Upon a Genie

boypussy!han x girldick!reader

warnings! MDNI 18+, pussyjob, pussy play (m!), reader and han are virgins technically?, no penetration, handjob, domish reader, subby han, feminization (obvi he has a clit now), PIV implied

notes! intro is inspired by BIG. also im aware some people are uncomfortable with this type of writing and that's okay! just scroll :)

3.6k words

It stares back at you. Unblinking. Unmoving. Out of all the little gimmicks and arcade games at the carnival, it was this one, without a plug-in or light, that called to you. You’re not quite sure why. Maybe it was the silly hat with a feather poking out from it for extra effect. Maybe it was the fact that the machine lacked any sort of light to indicate that it was on. There isn’t a wrong or necessarily a right answer to the question, but the fact that you’re drawn to it remains.��

Jisung clings to your side, using your body as a shield from the animatronic that stares back at you two soullessly. “This is freaky. Can we check something else out?”

You roll your eyes, tilting your head to look at your beloved, but cowardly lover. “Don’t you wanna get your fortune read?” But Jisung shakes his head rapidly. “No! I wanna go on the Ferris wheel and eat funnel cake. Not get cursed by some…genie. That doesn’t even have an outlet, by the way.” Jisung points to the plug-in that isn’t connected to anything. “How are we even gonna play?”

Reaching into your pocket you take out your wallet and peer inside. It only takes a few seconds to find the shiny coin.

You hold it up in front of his face. “With this. It’s probably battery-operated anyway. The cord is just for show.” Jisung eyes the metal worriedly, his eyes widening in fear. “Baby! Don’t do that. Come on! I’ll buy you two snowcones.” Rather than taking his deal, you give him a wicked smile.

“Make a wish, baby.”

“I don’t want to!” His plump lips turn into a pout. Jisung fakes determination against your stare, but it takes less than ten seconds for him to cave into your sick joke. “Fine. I wish you weren’t such a dick sometimes.”

That sputters a chuckle from you, leaning down to insert the coin into the machine’s slot. “And I wish you weren’t such a pussy.”

Magic erupts from the machine. The genie comes to life, light shining from every space behind the glass. Its eyes glow yellow, smoke coming from its mouth as it booms with laughter. “Mwuahaha…”

Jisung squeals, rushing to hide behind your figure as the animatronic, not so fluidly, turns its head left and right before it settles on you two. Even you, who had the idea to play this game anyway, recoils in surprise. Jisung hugs you close to him, breathing heavily into your neck until goosebumps form on your skin.

Ding!

Both of you look down to see a single card sticking out, old and yellowed. You look back at Jisung who only looks back at you. His eyes say it all, don’t read it. But of course, being that pissing off your boyfriend is your favorite hobby, you do.

He whines when you quickly snatch the card from the machine’s card slot. Just as abruptly it lit with life, the animatronic shut down. You adjust yourself until Jisung’s chin is tucked into your shoulder, staring at the slip of paper until you turn it over.

Your wish is my command.

-

The first thing you feel when you blink your sleepy eyes open is pressure in areas you normally don’t feel pressure. You excuse the sensation as two things:

One: you’re still half-asleep and the sun’s not even up yet Two: the carnival was a bust

Jisung must have bought rotten funnel cakes. The moment you two got your dessert, a wave of pain coursed through your systems. It felt like a pounding headache through your limbs. The Uber back home was embarrassing. More than once did your driver think you two were frolicking in the backseat of his car, but every time he turned around, he was surprised to see you two hunched over groaning with pain.

The aching turned into tiredness as you struggled with the front door. You wanted to at least make it to your bed before you collapsed, but black spots began to appear in your vision that made you find comfort on the living room couch instead. Jisung was only a step behind you, whining and yawning before he finally found sleep squeezed beside you on the sofa. 

Now you’re waking up in arms, trying to figure out why your crotch is so stiff.

Fuck, did you piss yourself?

You reach downwards to feel for wetness, but you let out a squeak when you feel hardness. You snatch your hand away quickly as if you’ve burned yourself. No. No, that can’t be right. How can Jisung’s hard-on be on your side? That doesn’t make sense. And you’re sure that insane pressure is coming from you. 

Again, you snake your hand down, slow and steady. Using your stomach as a guide, you trail lower before you feel your pelvis, your thighs, and horrifyingly, a cock. 

Jisung startles awake to your frantic movements. He sees your blurry figure sitting up, staring down at your thighs with your shoulders shuddering as if you’re shaking. “Baby?” He croaks. “What’s up?”

Your dick. Your dick is what’s up. It stands proud, throbbing, and leaky. Even though you could feel your erection through the material of your pants, you still couldn’t believe it. You shrugged off your pants in a haste, uncaring how your flailing limbs woke up your sleeping boyfriend. It was when you saw the head of the cock- the head of your cock easily straining against your underwear that you realized how real this was.

Words are far from you now. All you can do is uselessly open and close your mouth. If you keep blinking, maybe it’ll go away. Maybe all that pre-cum staining your pretty, girly underwear will magically disappear and you’ll wake up from this strange dream. You feel a warm hand on your shoulder, making you jump. Jisung’s saying something. His words sound like static in your ears, but you manage to make out the worriedness in his voice. Then the static suddenly stops and you know he’s staring at the very thing you’re looking at. 

“Is it real?” You just have to make sure. Even if you can undeniably feel every vein and twitch, you just have to. 

Jisung doesn’t say anything. A beat of silence passes before the same hand that rested on your shoulder comes to the space between your thighs. He squeezes your cock, tugging it downwards and back up to cover the tip with the palm of his hand. 

You cry out, hips bucking and you moan pathetically. The pleasure that coursed through your body was so familiar, so used to what you already know, but it’s unexplainably different. You smack Jisung’s hand, hissing as you say, “What the fuck?! Don’t touch it!” But he doesn’t move his hand. Jisung doesn't as much as flinch when you lightly slap him. Instead, his grip tightens. You can’t help but lean down just a tiny bit to allow him access to your new organ, hand pumping you at a steady pace.

It’s been less than a minute, but you feel what you think is an impending orgasm. Your balls - holy shit you have a sack - tense and relax. The tip begins to leak so much more and you briefly think how Jisung was ever able to last more than a minute inside you. You moan, throwing your head back and curling your toes. Just a little longer, just a little tighter, and a little faster and you’ll cum all over your undies and Jisung’s hand. That doesn’t happen though, not when your boyfriend unwraps his fingers from you to reach for himself.

Jisung shrugs off his own pants as you whine, quickly shimmying down his boxers. You can’t help but scoff at him freeing himself, ignoring how much your cock aches from being accidentally edged. “Are you really about to compare dick sizes right now?” However, there’s no tent in his briefs that you’re sure would be there. Not even as he’s nude from the waist down do you see any indication of the cock you’ve sucked on, but a cunt. Between the lower lips, his clit peeks out cutely, shiny with arousal. 

“I woke up before you, just for a little bit.” His eyes are wide. “I…I thought it was just a dream. I went back to sleep and then you woke up and…” He doesn’t need to finish the rest. Turns out this swap of cock and cunt is mutual.

Worried. He’s worried. Even with his hand slick with your juices and his pussy glistening in the dim light of the TV, he’s scared. You brush your nose against his, pecking his cheek soothingly. “It’s okay. I’m scared too.” You take his soiled hand in your dry one. “But we’re together. And safe. We’re gonna be okay. Nothing a quick Google search can’t fix.” You and Jisung smile at your attempt to lighten the mood. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips, and despite seeing the tears in his eyes seconds ago, your cock twitches. 

“I know,” he whispers. “I’m just upset because it’s bigger than mine.”

His gummy smile shines in the shadows. You giggle with him and lean against his shoulder, hands intertwined. 

The sight of your dick quietens you and him. It’s still hard, leaky in all its cocky-ness. Jisung jerking you off was really the only thing that helped make you feel better, literally and figuratively. Biting your lip, you tilt your head up and bat your eyelashes prettily. “You were really good at…touching me.” 

He blinks at you almost innocently. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah. Didn’t know a penis could feel that sensitive.”

Jisung hums, nodding with you. He doesn’t need to hear you say it to know what you want but asks anyway to make sure. “I-I can keep doing it. If you want me to.” He waits for your nod and it’s only a second it takes for you to agree. His hand unlaces from yours and he places it over your thigh.

Weirdly, it feels like you two are virgins all over again. The nervous touches, the uncontrollable moans, and the shy look you give him when he inches closer to your dick. It’s almost endearing but in the crudest way. 

Jisung starts at your shaft, hardly flicking his wrist up and down for friction. He’s warming you up, you realize. The thought makes you smile and you kiss his neck. “You’re so cute.”

With your cock in his hand, Jisung doesn’t understand how that can be so. He blushes anyway and tightens his grip just the slightest. “Am I?” You nod, kissing his throat again and again until he presses his thighs together. Your boyfriend always had a cute, but slightly irritating, habit of getting lost in pleasure. Sometimes forgetting that your pussy was in his mouth when he was too busy jerking himself off. Even with his cunt, he’s doing it all over again.

“You are,” you confirm. You trail your hand from the couch to his hip. Fingers caress his bare thigh until you dance on his pelvis, grazing the hair there. “Can I touch you too?” Jisung’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth. He knows what it feels like to have his dick ooze precum, to leak so much that it looks like he’s stained his boxers. You’ve made him do that countless times. But this feels insufferable. How he can rub rub rub without ever feeling like he’s getting anywhere. 

Shit. How do you deal with this?

He nods, bangs covering his eyes. You hear him sharply inhale when you finally come in contact with his wet cunt. Jisung isn’t sure what to do. He seems almost restless with you sliding one finger up and down his slit. It’s hard to do anything else with his legs closed, but you don’t tell him otherwise. You reason he must be nervous with everything going on.

That changes however when he spreads one of his legs until it hangs off the couch. You look at him for permission to do more and his response is a beautiful moan. 

Now with two fingers, it’s much easier to explore his folds. You ignore his clit for now; he doesn’t need to know how overwhelmingly good that can feel. Instead, you focus on the meaty part of cunt, swirling and flicking until his hand stops pumping you altogether.

“Hannie.” Not baby. Hannie. A little warning you usually give him when he’s being a little too selfish, but it’s hard to focus on anything else but the foreign pleasure. You finally swipe your fingers up until they catch his sensitive nub and his body jolts.

“Ah!” He squeals high-pitched. “S-sorry. ‘m trying but it feels so…so…good when you touch me there.” Those pleading eyes. You might have caved in like you always do and given your Hannie what he wants. However, you’re not feeling so generous at the moment. Especially when the raging hard-on only gives you pain when ignored. 

You use your free hand to swipe against his cheek, steadying his eyes on yours. “You think that’s fair, Hannie? That you get to use your new pussy and ignore my cock?” How foreign those words sound to you, but it feels so right to say them. He shakes his head, giving you a pouty look. “I didn’t think so. Here.” You place your hand on his chest and lean him back. You flip around until you’re facing him on the other side of the couch, pressing down until he’s flat on his back. 

You’re hovering over him like this. A perfect view to see his flushed face and exposed cunt. Jisung’s leg still hangs over the couch, but it allows you room to fit between his thighs. “I can do all the work, like always, but we’re gonna do it my way. Okay?”

A strap is the same thing as a dick right? At least you have some experience fucking your boyfriend, but you don’t know if you’ll be able to take it all the way. Your cock is already throbbing, aching, and begging for a release. You think you’d cum the moment you put it into his wet walls. But you can imagine.

Sliding your tip across his pussy lips, you imagine what it’d be like to slip inside. His hand felt soft and warm. Whenever he squeezed, it made every nerve on your cock jolt. Good, it felt really good. His cunt would be tight. It’s already so wet just letting you rub against his clit. You forget how wet pussy gets when they’re hardly touched. Virgin pussy is-

“Holy shit. You’re a virgin.” It’s a statement. The realization hit you far too late. You should have been more conscious. You shouldn’t have teased Jisung to the point of clawing your stomach and thighs. He’s breathing heavily, eyes hooded with lust as he whines. “O-oh. Are you gonna…” He trails off. Even without the hesitance in his voice, you can see it in his eyes. The arousal mixed with uncertainty. 

You lean down to kiss him. Your lips meet his sweetly, the complete opposite of the kiss your cock is giving is clit. “I won’t. We can stay just like this. Is that okay?”

Gently, you rock your hips. The head of your cock slips past his cunt until it reaches under his belly button. Your shaft grinds on his pussy and the grip on your stomach tightens. “Mmmm! Mhm mhm! Yes! I like it.” Jisung’s dazed look makes you smile. “Good.”

You sit yourself back up and grip your cock. Experimentally, you tap it on his fat clit. You only get two slaps in before he squeals, his hanging-off leg comes up until it bends in the air. Strings of arousal connect your bodies in the crudest way. 

Faster, faster, faster! You smack the head of your cock so quickly that you overestimate how much you can handle. Even with your tip now unbearably sensitive, you grit your teeth and dip lower until his lips wrap around your cock. 

Jisung’s cunt twitches. You can feel his hole fluttering against your tip, almost begging to be used. It takes immense control to ignore his beckoning, to slide up back and pretend that you weren’t thinking about just putting the tip in. 

God, he’s so wet. His juices drench your entire cock and leak onto the couch. You try not to, but you help but smear the arousal on his tummy every time you thrust against him. “Fuck, baby.” You moan. “Your pussy’s so wet.”

He whines, both from pleasure and embarrassment. “D-don’t say that.” 

But of course, it only makes you want to do it more. “Say what? How wet your pussy is? But it is, baby. Just keeps on leaking onto my cock and the couch. You’ve always been my dirty little boy, haven’t you?” Jisung can’t say anything to that even if he wanted to. Whether it’s his ass or cunt, he has a terrible habit of making such a mess.

Without warning, you grip the undersides of his thighs. You easily push them until they touch his chest, forcing his pussy to let you view it in all its glory. Jisung gasps and then tries to use his hands to push you away. You only hold onto him tighter, shaking your head condescendingly. “Nuh-uh. I wanna see what I'm playing with.”

Your words make his pussy clench around nothing. He mewls how he always does when he’s shy, but like the good boy he is, Jisung moves his hands until they’re on top of yours, helping you keep him spread.

You coo at him. “Ooo yes. So good for me.”

It’s easy to find a rhythm to grind in this position. Your cock slides against his pussy like butter, smooth and slick. The heaviness of your sack slaps against his ass with every thrust and the sound only grows louder when Jisung bounces back onto you. Looks like all those times he’s taken the strap paid off as well.

He’s warm, he’s wet, he’s a moaning mess, but you can’t feel the sweet, sweet tightness you once did when he was jerking you off. You look at Jisung and move one of your hands to your dick, a silent command to keep himself spread. He listens diligently, nodding and biting his lower lip as you use your now free hand to add pressure.

With your thumb, you press down just under your tip. It’s slight, but it still makes you two moan out loud. Now you can feel every crevice and crease on his cunt. You’re pleasantly surprised to be able to feel his swollen nub. Not that you should be too surprised, his cute clit is so chubby that it’s hard not to feel. 

Goosebumps cover your body every time you rut against it. Jisung pants at the sensation, head lifting up to see how your lower half moves together. You grin, “You got a cute pussy, huh?” Rather than shying away, Jisung blinks up at you. “You really like it?”

“I love it.” You purr. “Gonna cum all over it. Make it all pretty.”

That seems to do it for him. A loud moan tears through him. You apply more pressure on your cock as you continuously thrust against him. That orgasm builds again, starting just below your dick before your entire body contracts. Your cock feels like it hardens even more and judging by the repeatedly convulsing of Jisung under you, he must be close too. 

His fingers dig harshly on his thighs and his hips just won’t stop moving against yours. They speed up, they lift higher so you can hump against his sensitive spot again. You lean your weight forward and slap against his ass so hard that the sound echoes in the living room.

“Fuck!” You swear you see black dots. “Baby. I’m so close.”

Jisung speaks between his gasps. “Pleasepleaseplease! Give it to me!”

You groan again. Pre-cum oozes so much that you confuse it with your orgasm, but when you feel the tightening and releasing of your body, you know that this is your cum.

It spurts onto Jisung’s stomach, staining his smooth skin milky white. Your entire body shakes with your release. You don’t even notice the drool seeping through your lips even as it mixes with Jisung’s chest. It takes a few seconds to notice your lover trembling with you, tongue out in hopes of catching your drool in his mouth. With a hum, you lean down and capture his mouth in a heated kiss. It’s all tongue and spit, teeth clashing with muffled moans spilling out.

“I-I…I feel so empty.” You swear he looks like he’s about to cry. He speaks with your lips still brushing against his. “I just came. I know I just came but the pus- my pussy just feels so…so…” He doesn’t know the words yet. He can’t describe the restless feeling he’s experiencing. The urge to be full, to be stuffed, to be bred. 

Is he ovulating?

You pout with him, lifting your hips so you can play with his clit at your own leisure. Jisung moans in relief, eyes rolling to the back of his head while he babbles against your mouth. Carefully, you dip your fingers lower until you catch his entrance. The tips of your fingers barely push through his hole. Shit. He’s squeezing so hard that this time, you’re not sure if you can deny it much longer. 

“You want it inside real bad, huh?” You watch as he nods. Any fear he had felt before is gone. You sigh, looking down at your deflating cock. The sun isn’t up yet and you’re not sure how much longer you have with your new organs. You might as well make the most of it.

[theemporium]

💛30. grabbing onto their arm with luuuke please!! (hopefully ur not overwhelmed by luke requests but who doesn’t love him!!)

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

30. grabbing onto their arm

.

Luke Hughes was totally not in love with his best friend.

Yeah, maybe his heart tended to beat a little faster around you. And yeah, there was the fact that he went out of his way to seek you out or send you anything that reminds him of you. And okay, maybe there is also the fact that Luke will find any and every possibility to bring you up in a conversation without even realising it. 

But there was no way he was in love with you. You were just his best friend, the person in this world he would choose over anyone else, the person who he sometimes imagined kissing in a totally,platonically acceptable way. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

At least, that was what he kept telling himself because otherwise he would lose his goddamn mind—kind of like how he was right now.

The group had decided to check out some carnival near the lakehouse. It wasn’t too far, less than an hour drive out and it was almost a tradition at this point to visit during the summer. And everything was going completely normal with two cars making the road trip, everyone packed in like sardines until they spilled out once they arrived at the carnival. 

They had naturally split up into little groups, everyone mostly wanting to do their own thing and Luke had managed to be alone with you. Which was fine, normal even. Everything was so fucking fine and so fucking normal and then you reached out to grab his arm, slapping his bicep excitedly to catch his attention and just—

You left your arm there, wrapped around his and Luke was trying so hard to pretend like he wasn’t spiralling at the small action. 

Because, despite the mantra he had been repeating in his head since the summer had started, Luke was painfully aware of his feelings for you and just how coupley the two of you seemed to act without even realising it. 

Exhibit A: the fact you share a bed every summer because there is no need to have separate rooms when you will both end up sleeping over in the other’s anyway. 

Exhibit B: everyone already thought you were a couple. 

Exhibit C: your fucking arm wrapped around his like it fit perfectly, like it was always meant to be there and now, he was coming up with a million and one excuses for you to not move it. 

So yeah, he was coping so well. 

“Ferris wheel or bumper cars?” 

Luke blinked, pulled out of his thoughts when you pinched his arm. “Huh?” 

“You good?” You asked, your brows furrowed together. 

“Uh, yeah,” Luke blurted out, almost wincing a little at how unconvincing he sounded—even to himself. “Just tired.” 

You snorted. “You napped the whole way here on my shoulder.”

“Yeah, because you kept me up all night watching that stupid summer show with you,” Luke jabbed back, something warm and fuzzy erupting his chest when you squawked in protest. 

“You fucking love it, don’t even lie to me,” you huffed, lightly smacking the same arm you were still clinging onto with your other hand.

“Not enough to stay up until four,” Luke retorted. 

“You’re such a liar,” you grumbled under your breath.  “Maybe so, but you can’t prove it,” he said with a boyish grin before tugging you along. “C’mon, let’s go on the ferris wheel. I don’t trust you in a bumper car at all.”

.

[ruukina]

WOLFISH

FANDOM: final fantasy xvi PAIRING: clive rosfield x reader ( gender neutral, afab ) RATING: explicit / 18+. minors dni. SUMMARY: After an exhausting week of running around Valisthea, you return home with your heart full and missing a certain outlaw. What you find upon your return is different... but not unwelcomed. WARNINGS: slightly rough sex, dirty talking, breeding kink, implied heat cycle. WORD COUNT: 7.7k

A/N: yeah i'm fairly down bad for this man. i normally don't write reader fics but i'm trying to expand my horizons so. here we are. gotta feed myself in this economy right?? expect more ffxvi stuff, whether its reader insert or other shit because the brainworms are very bad.

read on ao3!

It’s a silent ride back to Hideaway, as it always is on these solo missions of yours.

It’s not a common thing, but every so often you find yourself having to run around all of Valisthea with the job of making payments and collecting orders from the many kind souls that have been helping the cause that even keeps your personal home afloat. In fact, you could even say as Cid’s personal advisor, this was your main job; Otto was busy running the Hideaway and keeping it in check, so the job fell to you when you weren’t tailing after the man you worked under.

You also didn’t mind it, because it meant you had some time to yourself. You had the wind at your back, the smell of sea water to keep you company, and you could be in your thoughts alone.

Usually you didn’t mind it, at the very least. 

It’s not a long task to do or even a hard one, in fact you’d argue that most of your time spent there is arguing with the likes of Martha and Isabelle and even L’ubor to accept the gil that Cid himself has offered to give them, but this month’s mission of yours was different. It seemed like a certain boss of yours had racked up a few requests and the people he graciously helped either wanted to give him a reward or send a letter to ask for more help. And since you were unfortunately playing messenger, it meant that you were basically running around and doing his job… in the sense of gathering the requests and gifts, of course.

So, you were being a little delayed in returning. You made sure to send a Stolas, to let everyone know you weren’t dead - just incredibly busy.

But now you finally found yourself on the ferry back home and you were impatient to get back. Excited to get back to everyone, excited to finally be returning after about a week of having to travel by Chocobo to get to everywhere.

Excited to return back to him.

“Hey, Obolus, are we almost there yet?” You peer over to the ferryman, the wind wilding through your hair.

Obolus didn’t even look back at you, as he ‘tsks’ in response. “We’ll get there when we get there. Asking every five seconds won’t make the boat go any faster.”

You scrunch your nose at him, but he did unfortunately have a point. The trip usually never feels so long, but after being away for what seems like months, you were just anxious to get back and rest your feet. The silence of the ride passes, with only the sound of waves pressing against the exterior of the boat. 

You lean against the side and take the chance to reflect on all that’s happened. All that you’ve experienced. 

All that you’ve done.

You don’t really remember when you became Cid’s advisor. It’s had to have been years at this point, you remember only barely being what one would call an adult. You were a bearer without a brand, hiding your magic behind crystals. It’s what your father had taught you, to protect you from the cruel world you were born in. You were cursed, your mother refused to even acknowledge your existence - even more so after the death of your father. You only lived the way that you did because your mother loved your father more than she loved you, and made your father take care of you.

Your father never gave up on you. An idealist in a world of realists, he really thought you could be the one to change the world. 

He set himself up for failure, you bitterly had thought when news of his death arrived at your doorstep. He died for a cause he believed in, sure, but now he expected you to carry on that torch for him. And maybe there was a part of you that wanted to fight for a better world than the one you were handed, for those like you. You weren’t really sure what your true feelings were at that time.

There was one thing you did know, however; you knew you weren’t safe in your mother’s care, so you ran the day after your father’s passing and never looked back. You’re not even sure if your mother is even still alive or if she even misses you. Did she start anew, start all over with someone else and have a child she could be proud of?

As the years went on, you found that you didn’t even care. You can’t remember her face anymore.

You were crafty, a trickster, because that’s what kept you alive. Somehow, your paths with Cidolfus Telamon crossed. Not just once or twice, but five times. Four times, you rejected his appraisal and invitation to join him.

On the fifth path crossed, and the day he saved you from death, you finally joined him. You didn’t really expect to stay long in Hideaway, only thinking you would spend a few weeks or even a month before you jumped ship. You never stayed in one place for long, because it was always too dangerous for you to attach yourself to people. But everyone was so kind, so nice to you, and welcomed you with open arms. 

Especially Cidolfus.

You clung to him a lot, maybe because despite only meeting him five times he was the only person you really knew, and somehow you managed to become his advisor with your skills and your ability to pull him back to the ground. Otto was against it at first, not because he didn’t like you, but you were barely an adult. Yet, Cid had smiled and patted you on the shoulder, telling Otto that there was more to you than meets the eye.

It’s much more than what your mother gave you. Worthless, unneeded, dirty, sinful - that’s all that she had called you. Your own father would try and raise your spirits, but her words were sharp as a knife and they cut wounds in your wrists. Weeks turned into months, months turned into years, and you stayed. You stayed with the people who would become your family.

One day, Cid left with Goetz and the wolf he ( or rather, charon ) cared for, because of rumors of Shiva’s Dominant finally rising in a place where he can finally catch her, to give her the freedom she needed. He came back with Goetz carrying a girl on his back, and a branded man with the wolf practically attached to his hip.

Clive Rosfield.

You didn’t realize it at the time, but the man before you would change your life completely.

Cid introduced you to him, asking you to watch over him and help him adjust to the Hideaway. It’s almost funny to think about, because despite Clive’s grumblings about ‘not staying long’ ( words that echoed in your head as familiar, because you had said the same thing ), when you finally got track of him again, he was out helping the people of Hideaway. 

You made a joke about that and he quickly looked away, some colour on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It was a cute sight, unsightly for a rugged man like him. Despite his appearances, he was kind and soft, albeit a bit cynical from the hardships he faced in his life. Then you ended up helping him help people, because there wasn’t much to do at that time and you needed to stretch your legs, and that’s how Cid decided on his great idea to make Clive your personal assistant.

Clive then realized when Cid told him you ran him ragged, he meant it, because once Cid assigned Clive to you, it didn’t take you long to get him working because as long as someone could move, they could work. But of course, you joined Clive on his journey to help him out. Some days you had to stay at Hideaway but for the most part, you were at his side alongside Cid. 

You and Clive bonded together. Quick whips with one another, long nights together trying to figure out your next course of action with the Mothercrystals and how to save Valisthea, and slowly he became someone you… well, liked, essentially. You don’t exactly make friends with people, because you’ve never really had the chance to do so, but somehow Clive stabbed his way into your life and heart. 

He became softer with you, and you did too. You found it was easy to smile with him, to laugh with him, to love him. It scared you, because Clive was a Dominant - the second, mysterious Eikon of Fire, and yet something so much more than that. It was basically a target on your back, even more so than the relationship you had with Cid.

But you found that you couldn’t stop loving him, that you would endure the burning world for him. Maybe that scared you more.

He held you when you sobbed and broke down over Cid - the first time your mask of being strong ever cracked. You hated it, you hated being weak, because Cid didn’t need weak people helping him. Cid needed someone who could put themselves back together, but this time you couldn’t. The pieces of you were scattered all over the floor like glass and every time you picked one up, you cut your hand and let the blood drip from your wound.

Yet, Clive held you. He held you close, he didn’t judge you, because he was crying alongside you. Cid meant so much to everyone, including him. You sat in his arms, and he didn’t leave until he knew he could leave you alone without worrying over you. His gentleness contrasted his roughened up look, he looked at you so softly and filled with fondness towards you. He was not afraid to help pick up the pieces, even if it meant cutting his hands in the process. 

He put you back together, and he didn’t complain about it. Not even once.

Your relationship with him bloomed. Your friendship with him became something new, something else. It was a dangerous love, because of who Clive Rosfield is - what he is. Yet, you never swayed. You never faltered.

No matter what, he’s Clive to you.

But in public, he is Cid and you are Cid’s advisor - like you always were. You two were professional on the outside, only sneaking away to shed those titles when you had enough time to. You didn’t get those chances a lot, but when you did he made sure to treat you like you were a deity. You’ve had lovers in the past, but they never made you feel like Clive made you feel. He made you feel loved, appreciated, cared for. You took care of him, but he always took care of you in return. He never simply just took, he always gave back.

No wonder you were anxious to get back to him; you’ve missed him dearly.

“We’re approaching the Hideaway!”

The ferryman’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. You open your eyes, quickly looking towards the horizons. Even in the blackest of nights, with the moon being your only light, you could see the shape of the broken down airship that you and everyone else called home. You could feel the smile creeping on your face.

“I’m home,” you whisper.

To who exactly? Not yourself, but to the man who was waiting for you.

You thank Obolus for the ride home as you step off of the boat, quickly rushing up the stairs. Most people had turned in for the night so there were only a few souls still haunting the Hideaway, and they offered their greetings to you and a cheery ‘welcome back, advisor!’, to which you returned with a smile.

You feel a little silly rushing through the halls, like an eager child, but you were happy to be home. 

You were happy about seeing him again.

You skid to a stop when you reached your destination. The Tub and Crown was a bit of a ghost town around this time, but you knew there were still a few people aside from Maeve haunting the area.

And you weren’t wrong. There sat Gav and Jill, with Torgal laying at Jill’s side. The hound lifts his head up at the sound of your footsteps, and once he lays his eyes on you he quickly stands up and rushes over towards you with a happy sounding bark. Since becoming Clive’s partner, Torgal never really left your side either. If he wasn’t with his owner or Jill, he was shuffling at your hip and following you around.

“Torgal!” You greet happily, kneeling on the ground to pet him and spoil him with some treats you carried on hand once you got close enough to where the two sat.

The two break from their conversation to see what Torgal was barking at, both of them greeting you with a smile on their faces.

“Well, if it ain’t our favorite advisor!” Gav slams his drink down. He looks you over, peering at the basket of gifts and requests at your side - all for a certain someone. “Talk about bein’ fashionably late. You weren’t kiddin’ when you said almost everyone in Valisthea was keepin’ you away.”

Jill nods her head in agreement, cupping her own chin to look over the heavy basket. “It sounds like you’ve had quite the adventure yourself.”

“Oh, it was the same ol’ stuff I deal with everyday. Just this time everyone in Valisthea caught wind that Cid’s advisor was in town and decided to make it their problem.” You rub Torgal’s belly, to which the hound accepts with happy pants. 

Speaking of the aforementioned man… You look to the side of Gav. No handsome brooding man there. 

You look to the side of Jill. No handsome brooding man there, either.

“Where is Clive?” You stop petting Torgal for a moment. “I figured he would be hanging out with you.”

Gav rolls his eyes a little, both good naturedly but also in some slight annoyance. “Went right to his chambers to work on things when we got back. He’s been in a bloody mood all week.” The scout holds up a finger. “Scowlin’ more than usual, more antsy than usual, tappin’ his foot while he waits at the door.” Every reason is met with a finger going up. “Not like everyone is afraid of him here, but it felt like we had to walk on eggshells around him. Even Charon was tryin’ not to rib him so hard.”

You blink a little, a brow raised. “Has the missions been going poorly or something?”

“Fuck no,” Gav shakes his head in response. “Everything’s been going smoothly. He’s just been actin’ like a shite.”

“He hasn’t been that bad,” counters Jill. Though, there’s a slight pause of hesitation from her. “But Gav isn’t wrong, he has been in a bit of a mood. More than likely, he was just worried about you.”

Worried about you? It’s not like you can’t handle yourself, and you’ve definitely been on missions longer than a week without him. You can’t help but scrunch your nose in thought - as always, when you’re thinking hard. Something was up with him, clearly.

Jill reads you like a book, with a smile on her face. “He’s still up, last time I checked. He’s burying his nose in reports as to distract himself. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the visit from you.” She stands up from her seat, as Torgal also rolls over and trots back to her side. “I’ve got some work to do with Tarja, but it was nice seeing you tonight.”

You nod your head, standing up and dusting yourself off. “Tarja, huh? Try not to stay up too late with her, alright?” You laugh a little when Shiva’s dominant huffs softly at your teasing, giving you just a gentle nudge in return. The two of you have gotten quite close over the years, and she was supportive of you and Clive. You felt like you could sigh in relief at that, that you didn’t have to worry about Clive’s childhood friend coming after you.

Gav finishes his drink, standing up as well. “I’m turnin’ in for the night.” He pats your shoulder with a grin on his face. “Make sure you give our leader a nice, warm welcome!”

He only grins harder seeing your cheeks turn red like a tomato at the implication of his words, and Jill’s soft laughter only makes you turn ever redder. Ah, there was your punishment for teasing Jill. The three of them make their way out of the alehouse, your eyes following them as you think about your conversation.

He’s in a mood.

What could he be in a mood about? You’ll have to do some digging, which isn’t hard - if there’s one thing Clive is with you that not even a sour mood could change, it’s that he was honest with you. It’s one of his best traits, really, that he’s open with his feelings and doesn’t usually shy away from speaking his mind about certain things. It’s not always easy, because there are some things he keeps to his chest, but for the most part communication is always important between you two. You pick up the basket of gifts and quickly make it to the end of the hall, where Clive’s chambers were.

And well, they were technically your chambers too, you think with the heat growing at your cheeks once more.

Shifting the basket a little, you use your free hand to knock on his chamber doors - once, twice and thrice.

“The door’s unlocked.” Clive’s low voice fills your ears. He already has you sighing and letting out a quivering breath. Founder, you’ve missed him.

You open the door with a smile on your face. You take in the sights before you - his room is as you left it, with the man himself seated at the desk. He seems to be burying himself in his usual reports and paperwork, just as Jill said. He didn’t even lift his head upon you entering.

“Guess who.” You smile, as you close the door behind you.

The sound of your voice has Clive immediately lift his head from his work. Cerulean eyes widened, the quill he was using drops from between his fingers and clattering on the desk.

“You’re back.” He sounds almost breathless. His chest raises a little as he breathes in and out, those cerulean eyes of him looking a lot more puppy-dog than usual.

This was different, indeed.

You walk towards him, placing the basket on the edge of the desk not covered in scattered papers. “Just got back. Gifts for you by the way, I was hunted down by weary souls who wanted to give their thanks to the so-called Cid the Outlaw.” You peer at him with a gentle, loving smile on your face.

He laughs a little in response, a rare smile forming on his own features. “No wonder you’re late. Sorry about that. I’ll be sure to pen my thanks to them soon.”

You shake your head at him. “Oh, don’t even start with the apologies. It’s my job to aid you, it’s kind of in the title.” A pause, shifting your feet a little as you hold your hands behind your back, shyly. “And… you know I’ll do anything for you, Clive.”

The words you whisper made him smile a little more. “You have perfect timing. I’m actually finishing up and I could use your advice.” He nudges his chair back a little, gently patting his thigh. 

For a moment, you stare with a tilted head, until you realize the implications. Your cheeks turn red.

Oh, he’s inviting you to sit there.

Oh, this was different, indeed.

But you don’t hesitate or falter at all. You take a seat on his thigh, leaning against him. One of his strong arms wraps themselves around your waist, pulling your body flushed against his. The position is a little embarrassing, you have to admit to yourself, but it feels warm, comforting - loving. It doesn’t take long for you to fall back into place, flipping through the letters and offering your advice and help to him.

It also doesn’t take long for Clive to stop paying attention. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. His hot breath tickles your skin, a shiver running down your spine, as his fingers draw circles in your hip. His lips ghosts around your skin, pressing the gentlest of kisses to your neck as though he was whispering forbidden words in your skin. The quill from his fingers once again falls onto the desk, the reports forgotten about as his attention shifts to you. It’s hard to focus when he’s like this, so you decide to also forget about the many papers that littered his desktop.

“Jill and Gav told me you were in a mood.” You finally shift the conversation to what was really on your mind.

Clive only offers a grunt at first. “I’m not really in a mood.”

“Are you? You’re acting a little differently tonight.” Your fingers run through his hair, out of his eyes. “What’s on your mind, Clive? You know you can tell me.”

For a moment, he hesitates, but he knows he doesn’t like keeping secrets from you. You know he doesn’t like keeping secrets from you. He pulls you close to him, finally lifting his head to look you in the eye.

“I was fine when you left, but after a day, it felt like there was a pit in my stomach.” Clive runs his fingers up and down your hip. “Hunger, I suppose, is the best way to describe it.”

“Hunger?”

“I felt like I couldn’t focus with you gone. It was worse when I was here alone. Your scent was so much stronger than it usually was…” Clive recounts, averting his gaze for a moment from slight embarrassment, but he quickly focuses back on you. “The more days you were away, the more the hunger grew.”

“And the grouchier you got?” You tease him, though your tease was cut short and replaced with a slight yelp when he pinches your thigh with a huff.

“I wasn’t grouchy.” He counters, but his tone of voice sounds like he’s not exactly fighting the accusation.

You think about what he’s said, though. A hunger he felt for you. It started happening when you first left. He found that your scent was stronger than normal, even when you weren’t there. The symptoms sounded fairly familiar to you, and you hummed a little in thought as you ran your fingers through his hair. He groaned in delight at that, leaning into your touch and burying his face in the crook of your neck once more.

“Maybe you’re going through a rut?”

Clive lifts his head up. “A rut? I’m not a dog, love.”

“I mean, you travel with a dog, you constantly have a permanent puppy-dog eyes look on you and you turn into a dog-lizard thing. You’re kind of dog-adjacent.” You shrug cheekily, with an equally cheeky smile on your face. “But I’m serious about the last thing. We don’t know a whole lot about Ifrit. Maybe it’s going through some kind of rut or something and it’s affecting you. It is springtime, you know. Maybe nature is just setting course for Ifrit, too.”

It’s a pretty plausible theory. Clive stops to think about it for a brief moment, his breath tickling your neck once more as you sigh. Still, he says nothing at first and pauses his movements, until he looks right back up at you, his gaze meeting yours.

“You do realize the implications of your theory, right?” His pupils are blown out, more than usual. His strong, calloused hands grip your hips, shifting you a little so your lower half is flushed right against his.

Oh, there’s something pressing against you. Your body warms up, a heat and ache pooling right in your core. 

You didn’t realize how much you miss his body pressing against yours in such a sinful manner, until he rolls his hips against yours in want and need.

“I meant what I said,” you begin to say, your hands gripping to his shoulders as you slowly grind against the bulge in his pants, meeting his hips’ movements. You couldn’t help but grin a little when he moaned lowly, a sound just for you. “You know I’ll do anything for you, Clive.”

That’s all you’re able to get out at that point, because once you give him permission to do what he needs to do, Clive’s lips press against yours. It was only a sweet, soft kiss for a for seconds at best, because it quickly turned into something fierce, hungry. His tongue prods against your lips, wanting access into your warm mouth, and you gladly part your lips for him, because you need him as much as he needs you. Your tongue presses and swirls against his - it’s a small battle for dominance you never win, but you know he likes a small challenge. His own tongue presses and pins yours, until you ease away to let him completely take the reins.

The kiss is hot, wet, truly sinful. His hands grope everywhere he could, mostly squeezing at your thighs and hips with his fingers digging into your soft, plump flesh until they found their way to your rear. Squeezing and grabbing, groping in such a way that would make you flustered had you not been needy with your own arousal, he lifts you up as though you’re made of nothing but feathers, and truly you’re a little limp in his grasp. Clive’s strength always managed to make you feel dizzy, in a good way, and that doesn’t change here. He pushes his chair back, leaving the desk and the many reports he still has to do in the dust and makes his way towards his bed - your shared bed.

He only breaks the kiss to place you down on the mattress, gentle pants leaving both of your lips as a string of saliva connects the two of you. It breaks as he pulls away a little more, only to dive back in and press fluttering, wet kisses to your neck. Just like the kiss from before, it turns into something a little more hot and brutal; his lips suck at your skin to give it a bruising mark, teeth sinking into your flesh to draw just a little bit of blood from you. You groan hotly, your fingers gripping at his dark locks as your hips jolt upwards. Clive licks and kisses at the bruise and bite mark he left, panting gently against your flesh.

“You still taste so, so good.” Clive whispers into your skin, as his hands tug right at your shirt. He tries his best not to rip it, but unbuttoning your shirt during these kinds of acts was never exactly a cleanful tact, because you can already see a few buttons pop off just from him ripping it open. You chuckle a little; some things really don’t change.

Your chest is bared to him, and Clive wastes no time in pressing gentle kisses on naked skin. Trailing down, he kisses, licks and sucks on any skin he could latch himself onto and sinks teeth into your sink that leaves behind a delicious sting of pain, until finally reaching your left breast. Your breath hitches a little as his tongue swirls around the nub of your nipple, the hitched breath morphing into a needy moan once his lips latch around it to give it a gentle suck. His fingers tease and play with the unattended one, his attacks on you relentless and cruel - cruel in the sense he never slowed down.

“Clive.” you whine with a high-pitched voice, trying your best to roll your hips against his. But he doesn’t let you, pinning you down with just his pelvis. He lifts his head up, a smirk on his face.

“Just lay there and let me make you feel good,” whispers Clive. The way his low voice sounded so commanding, you can’t help but obey him. He was always like this, though; he was always chasing for your pleasure and never his own. He loved you, he wanted to make you feel good. It was never really fair! But at the same time, it truly was nice. He was so different from lovers you had in the past, who only cared about their own needs.

He attends to your other breast, giving it the same treatment - a lick here, a suck there, leaving a trail of bruises and bite marks in his wake. Once he’s satisfied, his lips start to trail downwards. He worships you like this, with his lips and his tongue, making sure there’s a patch of skin with his mark on it. His hands make work of your bottoms, pulling off the offending fabric until you were just left in your undergarments. You expect to feel his fingers on your skin so he can pull them down, but instead when you look down, you see Clive is using his teeth to pull them down.

Oh, this is different. Normally he takes his time with you; press himself against you, kiss you all over. Even as someone who prefers to please his partners more than please himself, it seems like tonight he’s impatient.

“Seems like someone’s been wanting this,” chuckles Clive as he spreads your lower lips a little to inspect you. “You’re already so soaked. All I did was tease you a little. Founder, you’re as depraved as I am.” His hot breath hits your wetness as he speaks, never once pressing his lips against you. You jolt a little at the feeling, a soft huff escaping your lips.

“You started this mess,” You tell him, your fingers already gripping in his hair. “You finish it.”

Another chuckle leaves his lips. Clive is impatient, though, and he wastes no time in pressing his lips right against your dripping entrance. His tongue is relentless here just as it was on your skin; it wastes no time in slipping inside of you, as he starts to drink your essence and fuck you with his tongue alone. It’s almost unbearable to you, in a good way - he drinks like a man starved.

Clive is so good to you, but he knows how to be so cruel, because he knows you enjoy it. He knows how easily you melt on his tongue, and he enjoys every single moment of it.

His fingers slip in as well, two of them pumping in and out as he moves upwards a little, finding your clit. The tip of his tongue flicks at it and you feel the smirk against your entrance as soon as you squeak and moan from his actions. He licks, sucks, his movements becoming faster with each second that passes. You’re trying so hard to swallow back your moans, but the moment his lips wrap around your clit and give it a hard suck, you can’t control your volume anymore. It echoes off of the walls, embarrassingly so, but your mind is so fogged that you don’t seem to care like you usually would.

The knot in your lower stomach painfully tightens, you can feel yourself reaching your peak as Clive continues to tease your clit and thrust his fingers in and out of you. Just as you’re about to find your release, though, he abruptly stops. He pulls himself off of you, his fingers are coated with your essence.

“Clive–” You begin to whine, almost in pain. You stop yourself short when you watch him lick his fingers clean - slowly, like he’s putting on a show for you. Once they’re clean, he looks at you as though he’s a predator who has caught prey in his trap. The slight darkness of the room makes his cerulean eyes have a glow to them. The knot in your stomach returns.

He intends to devour you, his way. He’s going to drag this out, until you’re begging and crying for release.

Clive crawls back onto the bed, his hands moving to undo all of the leathers and fabric of his clothing, until he’s as bare as you are. His cloak and shirt go first, dropping onto the ground until his chest is revealed to you. Greagor, you could probably write several missives about Clive’s chest and muscles, but despite what your lover may say, you’re not that depraved. You keep all of those thoughts to yourself, like a good advisor should. Your eyes drift down with his hands, watching as they fumble a little with his belt, stifling a laugh from how needy and excited he is.

You stop laughing once he finally does undo his belt and pull his pants down, revealing his hard cock to you. You’ve seen it before, it’s been inside of you multiple times now, but you still hitch your breath when you see it. The gods certainly graced Clive with something to brag about, for certain. 

If you ever do meet Ultima maybe you should thank him for giving his vessel something that would make you cross your eyes and forget your own name, but something tells you a narcissistic god obsessed with the purity of his vessel may not appreciate the sonnets a mere mortal would write about said vessel’s cock.

Pre-cum dribbles at the tip, his fingers coated in a mix of his saliva and your juices as he uses it to his advantage to stroke himself a little, to really give you a show now. You hear yourself panting, your chest heaving up and down as you watch the sinful sight before you.

“Enjoying yourself?” Clive smirks, smugness in his voice.

You huff a little in response. “I’ll only enjoy myself when you actually fuck me instead of showing off, Rosfield.”

He laughs a little, leaning down to kiss your forehead sweetly. “As my faithful advisor commands.”

You have no time to respond, as he quickly flips you so you’re on your stomach, face slightly pressed against the pillow beneath you. He presses his front against your back, the tip of his cock pressing against your wet folds teasingly. Your needy whine and rear thrusting back to try and get him inside of you earns a laugh from him, but thankfully he’s not intensely cruel tonight. He presses inside of you, though it’s not as slow as he normally is. Normally he takes his time with you, but in just seconds he’s got his entire length inside of you. You feel the way his body shudders against your back, your soaked walls clenching around him. A sigh passes your lips, morphing into a moan. 

You’ve missed this. You’ve missed him.

His thrusts are slow at first, but it doesn’t take him long for him to pick up his speed. His hips meet your backside, a wonderful symphony of skin slapping against each other fills the room, loud enough to make your ears burn with embarrassment. You bury your face in the pillow to muffle your moans. A hand wraps itself around the back of your neck, though, to pull you up towards its owner. Clive’s heavy breath is in your ear now, worsening your arousal.

“Don’t hide your voice from me,” pants Clive, sharp teeth nibbling at your earlobe. “I want to hear you.”

And you find that you can’t deny him. Your moans are loud, needy, your knuckles turning white from how roughly you’re gripping the sheets to the point where they might tear. His other hand snakes down your stomach, reaching your lower half, and his fingers make work on your clit. It’s a slow rub, his thrusts contrasting the gentleness of his fingers. You can feel yourself reaching your peak, you can feel the knot in your stomach tightening and tightening until–

Until he pulls right out of you.

You whine, loudly, at the loss. Your walls clench at nothing, and you try to thrust yourself back towards him, but Clive doesn’t let you do that. Instead, he flips you both again - him on his back and you sitting on his lap. He looks up at you with a smile, his hand running up and down your stomach once more.

“I know exactly what you like.” The outlaw says, pulling you forward so his cock rests right against your stomach. You feel how hot it is, how hard it is, and how it throbs and pulsates against your skin. “Show me how much you want to cum.”

Oh, he’s definitely dragging this out as long as he can. You can’t exactly blame him, you don’t want this to end either. 

But you also really need to reach your peak, otherwise you may burn the whole Hideaway down.

Your wobbly legs manage to hold yourself up, slowly moving down on him. Your whole body shudders as his cock fills you up again, the tip pressing against the deepest parts of your inside. You move up and down on his length, moans and pants spilling from your lips as you decide to not hide your voice any longer - because he wants to hear you. And you can’t deny him, because you don’t want to deny him.

“Founder, your voice alone drives me mad.” Clive growls, his hand squeezing your thigh as he thrusts upwards to meet your own movements. “Tried to focus on my work, tried to put you out of my head for days, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I needed you blissed out on my cock–”

He’s rambling, his voice low and rough, and you love every second of it. Clive’s not much of a talker, but when he is, he makes you feel so depraved for him. Your legs were starting to shake and feel weak already, but you push yourself - you push yourself because you want this. Because you need this from him, just as much as he needed this from you.

“Clive,” you chant his name like a prayer, over and over again. You must sound delirious.

But Clive clearly doesn’t seem to mind, the way his back arches a little just from the sound of your sweet voice. It’s a powerful feeling, you realize, having such a powerful man like him weak at you - a mere mortal, a bearer but not a Dominant. Yet, it’s a good reminder that beneath everything, Clive is a mortal man as well.

“Can you feel me, sweetheart?” He places his hand on your lower stomach, feeling the way it bulges a little from the sheer size of him. You look down, shuddering at the sight as he continues to thrust upwards, your eyes following how the bulge disappears then reappears. “You take me so fucking well. It’s like you were made for me, the way you shake your hips like a woman at the Veil.”

You can’t respond, any time you try to all that fumbles from your lips are moans and whines of pure pleasure.

“I can get so deep into you like this,” groans Clive, his other hand grasping at your hip. “All the way into you. Fuck, I could breed you right here. I could make you swell with my child.”

Oh, that’s different.

And it’s clearly a good different, the way your body responds. Your walls clench around him, as if your body had a mind of its own, as if your body was begging for the man to breed you. He notices too, and he licks his lips and smirks once he realizes you may enjoy the idea as he did.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Another thrust upwards. His thrusts are getting sloppier and rougher, but Greagor does it feel so good. “I wouldn’t be able to control myself, seeing you like that. I’d fuck you every single day–”

You moan, so lecherously. “Clive, fuck, I’m going to cum!”

Both hands grab at your hips, fingers digging and sinking into your skin so hard you know there’s going to be some bruising there in the morning. But you don’t care. All you care about is the man underneath you, and chasing after your own release. Clive makes you move faster onto him, a growl rumbling from his throat.

“Go on, let yourself go.”

You were already so overstimulated from the foreplay from before, and the way his cock brushes against your sweet spots and bashes against the entrance to your womb, you can’t help it. Your walls tighten around him, and you let yourself go.

Another growl rumbles from his throat, this time he pulls you right down onto him, hard. It doesn’t take him long to follow you into a blissful climax, his hot seed pouring into you and flooding your insides. It’s a lot, more than usual, to the point where it floods out from your entrance and onto him.

You collapse onto him, and he instantly takes you in his arms. Slowly, he flips your positions again, just so he can press himself deeper into you. Thank the Founder, because your legs were about to give out.

A moment passes, until he finally pulls himself out from you. His blown out pupils watch as his seed overflows from you, dripping onto the sheets beneath you. He shudders at the sight, and you can’t help but shudder as well.

You’re fading in and out of existence, but when you mostly come to, Clive has wiped you and him down, cleaning you up and gently pressing kisses against any marks he’s left on you. The sheets will unfortunately have to wait until tomorrow. Frankly, you could give less of a shit about that.

The outlaw slumps himself against you, pulling you into his arms. You both lay there in a comfortable silence, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“Thank you.” His voice trembles, a little embarrassed - that’s the Clive you know. “I’ll, uh, make sure Tarja prepares a herbal tea for you tomorrow, so that you don’t…” He trails off, hiding his face against your neck even more now.

You chuckle, feeling the hotness of his cheeks against your skin. “Feeling better?”

“Yes,” answers the male as he lifts his head up with a smile. “Much better. You always seem to know how to cure my worries and needs.”

“What can I say? I know my boss pretty well.”

He laughs, and your heart feels so warm, so in love with the man before you. Clive leans in, pressing his lips against yours to share a sweet, innocent kiss that contrasts the sinful act you both just partook in. And you kiss him back, wrapping your arms around him. You only stop when you feel something hard rub against your thigh, pulling back to see he was still pretty aroused. He’s a little sheepish at that, but he looks at you in want, in need - and love, as always.

“I don’t think one time is going to be enough for you, big guy.”

A sheepish laugh falls from his lips. “I don’t think so either. I might need a few more rounds. That is, if my faithful advisor is up to it.” 

He’s challenging you, clearly. The smirk on his face tells you all you need to know. You smirk back, bucking your hips against his to accept.

“Only if you do most of the work.” You tell him, a leg going in to wrap itself around his waist. “You made me weak in my knees, Lord Rosfield. A gentleman should take some responsibility for his actions.”

His low chuckle reaches your ears, as he leans in to press his forehead against yours. It’s a tender action, one that definitely makes you feel weak in the knees - if you hadn’t already. It doesn’t take him long to reenter you, and you can’t hide the shudder of your slightly overstimulated body. 

But you want everything he has to offer, the good and the bad of Clive Rosfield, and he’ll give it to you. 

Because he wants everything you have to offer, the good and the bad of his faithful advisor, in return.

“As you wish, my love.”

He claims your lips. The night goes on.

“Somethin’ seems to be on your mind.”

Jill looks towards the source of the voice. Gav stands next to her, arms crossed as he meets her gaze with a raised brow. The Dominant says nothing to him, only slowly returning her gaze to where she once was looking. Gav’s line of sight follows hers, landing right on the scene that was unfolding before them.

“Clive, I’m trying to do work!”

Hideaway’s poor advisor was currently trying to shake an overgrown Cid the Outlaw off of them, who has currently draped himself over you. It had been a single day since you had returned from your trip and needless to say, Clive was acting as though you had been gone for years. Arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your body flush against yours.

“Nothing is stopping you from doing your work,” is all Clive remarks with, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Except for a fucking overgrown dog!”

Gav whistles at the sight before him. “Someone seems to be in a good mood.”

“Indeed,” nods Jill, her gaze never leaving the both of you. Right now you were trying to walk away, which resulted in you basically having to drag the second Eikon of fire around because he refused to let himself off of you. “But, I can’t help but wonder if this is worse than the mood he was in before.”

The scout shrugs his shoulders. “Our advisor has dealt with worse from him. And we don’t have to deal with him slobberin’ all over us, so I’d say a good mood is better than nothin’.”

The woman says nothing. She knows it’s going to be a few days before Clive will return to his normal self, if your theory about why he’s been moody all week rings true. Such things don’t end with a simple, pleasurable night. You’ll be fine, she knows that, so she’s not too worried that you won’t be able to handle Clive Rosfield.

It’s in your job description, after all.

( she’ll still pray to metia for you, at the very least, and hope you come out unscathed. )

[pyr0-kai]

Hi, please can I request a Mike Schmidt x reader where Mike’s snoring wakes them up at night? And the reader is annoyed but also a little glad that he’s able to sleep deeply with them around ahaha

Love this one, thank you kind anonymous stranger <3 hope this is good

Fluff - Bad title and writing - maybe a little OOC mike?

Sweet Dream

The night was going pretty good. Abby was soundly asleep, the Schmidt house was cleaned up. You decided to lay in your boyfriend’s bed, reading with a book light (flashlight) before he returned home from his shift.

Not too much later, you heard shuffling outside the bedroom, before the door swung open. You clicked off the light and put the book down, now that your boyfriend was home. Mike kept the light off as he grabbed fresh clean clothes to change into. He didn’t say much before climbing under the covers with you.

“Hi baby..” he spoke, in that tired grumbly voice.

“Hi Mikey” you whispered back, before pulling him closer. Within minutes he was asleep. You fell asleep not too much later.

You ended up having a great dream. You and Mike at at county fair, playing games, enjoying over-price treats, and the best part? Sharing a ride on the ferris wheel. Right as you two were leaning in for the perfect kiss, you were awoken by a few loud snores. You huffed, annoyed, but also a little concerned. Looking at Mike, he was out, sleeping on his back, arm around you and mouth slightly open.

You poked him a few times. “Baby… Mikey? Wake up.”

He slowly opened his eyes, groggy and still tired, “hm? We still have a few hours before Abby has to leave for school…”

“Are you okay? I’ve never heard you snore before! And I was having a great dream before your snores woke me” you whispered back.

“Mmm sorry baby… I… I don’t snore very often. Only when I feel comfortable, and that doesn’t happen a lot. Why, what exactly were you dreaming about?” He responded.

You blushed a lot, thank god it was still dark. He felt comfortable sleeping around you? Enough to snore when he doesn’t snore normally. That’s the sweetest thing you’ve heard in a while. “Uh… uhm, I was dreaming that we spent a day at the fair, and I woke right as we were going to kiss on the ferris wheel..” you whispered.

Mike smiled in return before leaning In to give you a loving kiss. “Better”.

“Better”.

“Lets go back to sleep yeah?”

You nodded, before snuggling close to him, happily falling asleep, and Mike started snoring again not too long after.

[ultfreakme]

Okay I’m still on the verge of tears and can’t do this rn so buddy daddies ep 10 jumbled thoughts

Idk wtf anyone says anymore the entire kazurei relationship is queer there is absolutely NO denying it anymore. That scene where Kazuki is looking at kids with their moms, then it cuts to himself? Yeah that’s basically insecurity and feeling terrible he can’t fit their own family into societal standards. Yeah it’s about Miri missing Misaki, about how their careers aren’t meant to accommodate a child but its also about how society has made us all internalize that a ‘right’ family involves a mom, a dad, and a child/

Miri is absolutely sad that Misaki isn’t with her, but she’s never like, so upset she gets devastated. Misaki herself asks “do you like it here better than with me?” and what does Miri answer? She doesn’t says “yeah i like it better here”, BUT she also doesn’t say “I like it best with you!”, she completely dodges and says “I love you mama, and papas too”. Any time a situation involving a mother comes up, she’s like “would be nice if mama were here....anyways!” and doesn’t dwell on it.

I thought Rei smiling would kill me but Kazuki almost CRYING DESTROYED MY SOUL. It’s like watching either of my parents cry its heartbreaking and horrible and i want it to stop. He thought he’d never find that normal happiness, wanted it oh so desperately and then it’s....gone. The Ferris wheel symbolism was horrible I hate the OP for doing that to me. That opening where they’re in front of the billboards was just-- IT WAS IN FRONT OF US THE WHOLE TIME

I think even Rei almost cried. On the ferris wheel, when they focused on his mouth and it twisted downwards before Miri pointed to the city. Kazuki crying was bad enough and had me tearing up too. If Rei was added into the mix I’d have been in shambles

Misaki holy shit wtf, life hates her, cut the woman some slack wow. Throughout the show she was defined by her singing and they took her voice away. It’s horrible, but I’m glad she has parents to go back to. I’m not fully convinced she can take care of Miri, but if she’s being genuine I think she’ll be just fine and would learn just like Kazurei.

Rei sounded so devastated when he was like “you can’t do this when we’re all attached”. Yeah this was his glimpse at normalcy, the one time in his entire life he got to be part of something that didn’t stifle him and it’s gone now. 

Kazuki wrapping the scarf around her- hey why don’t I just eat glass? Why don’t I just go on top of a cliff and scream?? Or set fire to my bed???

“I guess we can’t change” BABY NO YOU CAN. YOU CAAAN!!!

I thought Rei would defy the organization and say “screw it I want to protect this family I have”......but his most prominent memory of his mentor is him dying. How defiance led to his and his wife/gf’s horrifying death. In his head he’s probably thinking that’d be Kazuki and Miri if he doesn’t quit while they’re ahead. Alive and miserable, or dead while holding onto hopeless situations?

Kazuki.....idek.....just Kazuki baby I’m so sorry

[l0vergirlatheart]

Can I request the jealousy reactions from the Victims of Mandela Catalogue? I read your other post of victims reacting to receiving affection my heart just absolutely soared. If it’s too complicated, don’t do it. :]

HOLY SHIT MY FIRST REQUEST!!! HIHIHI<333

ofcofc, if it's on my masterlist then I'll def. write it <3 love the victims frfr

also ty for the compliments, got me melting over here💕

c.w // jealousy (obv..), d/ckhead (?) in mark's part ngl, also really oblivious reader

JEALOUS MUCH?

start under cut.

MARK HEATHCLIFF

look at the goofy lil skrunkly

he doesn't get jealous easily

or in general

but...

if you're skipping or canceling hangouts with him just to see someone else constantly...

well, you'll see--

"Hey (Y/N)!" Mark called out behind you. You'd been walking around with (?), and he just happened to be close by.

"Hey Mark." You greeted with a smile as he jogged up to be by your side.

"Who's this?" He asked, pointing at (?).

"Ah! This is (?), my new friend! We've been hanging out a lot!" You exclaimed, and Mark nodded, smiling. But then, (?) locked arms with you and leaned into your side.

"Yeah, me and (Y/N) have been hanging out pretty much everyday this month, only besides the short 2 days when she was hanging out with you." (?) said, with a condescending smirk on their face as they stared down at Mark.

"..I see." He turned to look at you, "Is this the one who keeps having you cancel the hangouts?"

"I don't force (Y/N) to do anything, I think they just like a little better than you--" (?) started.

"I'm sorry? I don't like any of my friends more than the other!! You're all my friends, so I like you all equally!! Please don't pick another fight, (?).." You interjected. (?) just rolled their eyes and looked back at Mark.

"We've got somewhere to be right now, so goodbye." (?) said turning around and attempting to take you with them.

Mark grabbed you other arm softly and pulled you out of (?)'s arm lock, and silently lead you two away from (?).

yeah..

ya'll just left (?) in the middle of nowhere

oh well

skill issue

CESAR TORRES

go homosexual alternate go!!

yeah he's technically an alternate the entire timeline so...

he's one here too

since alternates don't usually feel, well, feelings

jealousy is new to Cesar

he has no idea why he gets that clenching feeling in his stomach when he sees you with (?), all close and even just slightly touching

and that voice telling him to just take you away from them is getting louder and louder

so what does he do?

he listens to it.

There you were, laughing with (?). You two had just gotten back from a fun time at a carnival in the next town over, and (?) was walking you home.

"Oh! Remember how scared you were on the Ferris wheel? Your face was priceless!" You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand.

"Oh, shut up!" (?) said, nudging you with their elbow.

"You know--" You started, but then (?) stopped moving and laughing. They were staring at something straight ahead in fear; you followed their eyes to see Cesar, standing ahead, just a couple feet away. The only thing that really scared (?) was that half of his face was missing besides his eye.

yeah safe to say your friend ran away

"why'd you--"

"I missed you."

yeah he took you away after that <3

away as in home

ya'll had a fun time there doing whatever it is you do with someone

idk i havent had human contact in years leave me alone /hj

JONAH MARSHALL

cute and goofy. perfect combo. just add in some stupid.

↑ recipe to make ur very own jonah

anygays

he is very goofy

so it seems impossible for him to get jealous right??

wrong.

he gets jealous very easily

and constantly tbh

he'll just pout at you and whoever he's jealous of

You were sitting at a restaurant with Jonah and (?). You and (?) had been chatting the entire time since they sat across from you, and the normally very loud Jonah was dead silent.

"Yeah so then I--" (?) started, but you stopped listening after a second because you felt something tug at your (shirt/sweater) sleeve. You looked next to you to see a pouting Jonah, with his cheeks all puffed out and goofy lil' mad face. <333

"How come you're not talking to me too??" He whined quietly, and you just had to let out a small giggle.

you had to let him in on the convo

he was back to normal in no time

when you guys left he was very clingy tho

no im not showing favoritism wdym

ADAM MURRAY

lets pretend adam wasnt a fr d/ckhead in the last volume ngl

he is chill

...sometimes

if he's woken up on the wrong side of the bed or sum

then he will get jealous quickly

not as fast as jonah but still

pretty fast

"Yeah so what movie did you want to watch?" You asked (?). You were at your house, and were going to have a movie marathon together.

"I was thinking.."

Little did either of you know, a groggy and grumpy Adam had entered the room, not have founding you anywhere in the other room with him.

"what're you doing?" he said, shocking both you and (?).

"HOLY SHIT ADAM-- You scared us!!" You said, whipping your head back to see him right behind the sofa.

"So?"

"sighh... we're having a movie marathon."

"Move over then, I'm joining."

he had his arms wrapped around you the entire time

silently pulling you closer and closer to him

he kept going 'till you two reached the edge farthest from (?)

poor (?)

they just wanted to watch movies

adam probably dragged you away to make popcorn with him lmfao

END

fandom masterlist

req. guidelines

[anrieee]

⇝ 24 - (✍︎) déjà vu

“You look like shit.”

“Thank you, Tao.” You looked at her blankly. “The party the other day is still killing me.”

“You’re still hangover?” Ayaka looked at you in concern.

“Well- no, more like they’re hung over something or someone.” Lumine whispers the last part and you give her a glare that said to not spill anything more. She puts her hand up in mock surrender and does a motion with her fingers that ‘zipped’ her mouth.

“Is Venti gonna come with us?” You change the topic.

“Yeah, but he’s going to be late.”

“What’s taking Miko so long though?” You were starting to get impatient waiting at the entrance of the amusement park. After all, you all had agreed to meet here.

Lumine grumbled, “Obviously taking her sweet time with her girlfriend. Couples, I swear.”

“Now, what did I hear about couples?”

“Hey, Miko and Ei!” Ayaka is the first to greet them and you guys follow suit.

“Alright! First stop, the roller coaster!” Hu Tao excitedly exclaimed. She couldn’t wait to try the rides, but also put the plan in motion.

-

As much as you didn’t want to admit it. This amusement park was having a bigger effect than you initially thought. Looking around the place made you unbelievably sad for no reason— no scratch that, you knew why. You were grieving a relationship that could’ve blossomed but didn’t. But then again, what right did you have to grieve something that didn’t exist in the first place?

This was the place you and Scaramouche started to open up to each other, so there was definitely a lot of good moments you had with him. Your heart should be swelling up with joy because of the memories, but with the recent incident all you can feel is bitterness, sorrow, and anger. You can’t help but think about what could have been. The what ifs eating away your entire being.

You’re mad at Scaramouche for saying those nonsense about you. Whether you can forgive him or not depends on his apology, but you also don’t want to talk to him yet. You’re angry at yourself too. You’re not sure if it’s because despite it all there’s a part of you that yearns for him. Or it could be that you managed to like him at all. Or it could also be because you’re still hopeful. Hopeful that everything could go back to normal, to the time you were starting to get to know him better.

“Hey, why are you frowning so much?” Hu Tao asked from beside you on the rollercoaster, she frowned as well. She’s the type of person whose mood is easily affected by those around her.

“Nothing.” You shake your head, you try to give her a smile but it comes out looking strained.

“Alri— AHHHHHHH.” And the rollercoaster quickly took off.

-

“Do you get déjà vu~” Lumine sing-songed close to your ear and you jumped.

“Will you stop that? I just got goosebumps.” You made a face the same way you would when you smell something unpleasant.

“What? I just brought you back to reality.” She rolled her eyes. “Besides, you looked kinda pitiful just staring at your cotton candy.”

“I don’t even know why I bought it.”

“Give it to me, then.” Lumine does a ‘gimme’ motion with her hand.

“No.” You refuse and she gives you a dirty look before mutterring a ‘you’re not gonna eat it anyway.’ You take a piece of it to prove Lumine wrong.

The cotton candy ended up leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

-

“Oh, Venti!”

“And Scara…” When you caught sight of Venti’s group, your eyes were quick to search for him.

‘Why is he here? Is this why Venti was late?’

“Perfect timing! We were about to ride the ferris wheel, especially since we can only ride it in pairs.” Hu Tao nudged the ferris wheel conductor. “Right?”

Bullshit.

“Y-yes.” The poor guy agreed as he rubbed the spot that Hu Tao nudged harshly.

You don’t know how they managed to make the guy agree.

“Hey, Lumine do you wanna—?” You didn’t even get to finish your sentence before Lumine is already dragging her brother in one of the booth.

“Sorry, I’m going with Aether.” Okay. That was weird, Lumine choosing Aether?

“Well, I’m obviously going with Ei.” Miko is quick to make her way inside. “Good luck figuring this out though.”

“Hu Tao and I will be partners!” Venti announced.

You glanced at Ayaka, “How about you?”

“Kazuha and I agreed to be partners for this one.” She gives a sheepish smile.

“It’s me and Xiao for this one.” Childe gives you an apologetic smile.

Well. That’s wonderful. Absolutely terrific. You are going to be stuck with Scaramouche for the whole ride. But then again, once all of them gets inside no one will be able to stop you from not riding it.

“Don’t even think about ditching on us.” Venti is already behind you before you can even think about your plan.

“I thought you were already inside.” You grumbled.

“Just call it a gut feeling.”

“Fuck you.” You flip him off.

“Aww, you love me so much.”

-

Scara tried his hardest to calm down. He felt like he was suffocating and his hands was starting to feel clammy. He wiped down his sweaty hands on his jeans every few seconds.

‘Just say it. It’s only two words.’

“I’m sorry” was what he wanted to say, but when he tried uttering the words they ended up drowning in his throat. He swallowed and tried again, “I’m sorry.”

A crack in his voice. He wanted nothing more than to disappear right here, right now. Especially since silence enveloped the two of you, and not the comfortable one.

One minute. Two. Then three minutes. He was starting to think, you didn’t hear him. Or you were deliberately ignoring him. He’s biting his lips in anticipation and nervousness now.

‘Maybe I should say it louder?’

“I’m sorry too.” You continue to stare at the window. “I’m sorry for saying those harsh words to you.”

“It’s not your fault.” He’s baffled why you’re apologizing. “It’s my fault. I was an asshole for no reason at all. You don’t have to apologize.”

“That’s true, but I could’ve handled it better.” You finally look at him. “But anyway, why were you an asshole?”

He falls silent and casts his gaze on the floor, “I was jealous and angry.”

You look at him in shock then you laugh. You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it, because, wow, you also felt mad and jealous when you said those words towards him.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t laugh.” You cough to recompose yourself.

“It’s okay, I know I shouldn’t have lost my shit just because I was jealous.”

“No, no, I get it.”

Silence again, but now it’s less tense than before.

“Sorry, I can’t forgive you.” You said firmly. “Not yet, at least.”

Scara looks disappointed, but then it changes to a defeated look. It’s like he’s seen this coming and has accepted it. He smiled sadly, “It’s fine. I’ll wait for you until you’re ready to forgive me.”

“No, Kuni. I want you to work for it. I want you to earn my trust and forgiveness. You can’t let time do it for you. If you want it, do it yourself.”

“Are you giving me the blessing to court you?” An attempt to make a joke.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” Why were you so nonchalant about it?! Scara stared at you with bewildered eyes.

Bonus:

“Can you read their lips?”

“No, it’s too dark.” Venti squinted his eyes.

“Goddammit.”

-

“Uh, fine weather isn’t it?” Childe attempted to make a conversation.

“…”

Childe has been at it for the past 5 minutes. He’s tried to make Xiao talk to no avail. He swears he loses a year of his life the longer this goes on.

-

“Move, bitch.”

“You, move.”

“STOP MOVING, AETHER. IT’S WOBBLING.”

“FUCK.”

-

“How has it been?” Kazuha kindly asked.

“Hectic and exhausting.” Ayaka sighed deeply.

“I get it.” Kazuha nodded in understanding.

-

As for Ei and Miko, they were just doing what couples would usually do in a ferris wheel.

just a hater — [ prev | masterlist | next ]

Synopsis: In which you major in astronomy and scaramouche is the biggest astronomy hater (in your eyes). What happens when someone confesses their feelings for you, and you not knowing how to handle affections, suddenly blurt out that you are already taken. By who? Well, scaramouche of course.

a/n: reminder that taglist has been full and closed for some time now 😭 i’m sorry but if you asked to be added, i won’t respond

taglist: @lovelyiez @linn-a-a @itsyourgirlria @beriiov @kunikuzushiit @bubiblossom @jiminscarmex @starfruiitzz @baelloraa @bleedingwhiteroses222 @zanashair @criminalinthemaking @dee-zbignuts @lxry-chxn @mangobee @sukunasrealgf @reverse-iak @monochromaticelliot @scaranaris-lil-niko @zannivrs @lovely-scaramouchie @ireallylikehamsters @angryhope @monaypo1 @shirmxie @pooonyo @ladyv1n @thenightsflower @aerinrin @suzukara @lfgceo @elysiasbae @saoiirsee @kairxse @prefesro @purpl3bo1 @l-l-u-x-x @otomegame-oneshots @mcryv @kunikuzushisbeloved @cupids-chamber @justawalkingdisaster @scaraapologist @elakari @hishui @loveroftheoldestdream @doppoluvbot @crowbird @lunavixia @mirology

[pink-tk-a-latte]

hellooo!! i’m back :D

may i req siglai (ler!nikolai, lee!sigma)? maybe a bit of silly romance because i ♡ them, (and i feel like making sigma twice as flustered just for fun. haha)

for the scenario/vibe, maybe nikolai decided that sigma looks too “grumpy” or stoic all the time, so he tries makes him laugh by tkling him? it’ll be funny if nikolai accidentally tkled him and decided to continue after sigma reacted. but that’s just a silly “what if” you don’t need to put it in the fic if you have other ideas!! /gen

also i’m so happy to see an atsulucy fan here. i love them so much they make me explode

- 🎀

SIGLAI REQ SIGLAI REQ!!!!!!!!!!

I love Siglai and Atsulucy an UNHEALTHY amount so thank you so much for the request, bow anon!!!! EXCITEMENT!!!!!

I thought this one would be a bit quicker to write since I already have so much Siglai written LMAO— except I didn’t use ANYTHING that I’ve already written and instead wrote a FERRIS WHEEL SCENE FOR SIGLAI (bc I read a fic recently and I love Ferris wheel scenes…) 🎡

AGAIN I’m sorry for how long this took. AGAIN I don’t have any reference for how long it should take. I’m seriously in love with this prompt so I feel bad for not getting it done right away 😭😭 I hope it is to your liking!!! Siglai anthology date— I love you, it’s ruining my life

Disclaimer for heights, possible claustrophobia, and getting stuck on a Ferris wheel (but it’s okay cuz abilities)

Sfw tickle fic!!!!!!! 1.5k words. Romantic (Pre-Relationship?) Nikosigggggggg

you can be alice, i’ll be the mad hatter

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

“It’s nice to be back up in the air, isn’t it?”

Nikolai chirped as he turned to his companion. He hoped to see that normal-ish wonder and glee in Sigma’s eyes as he gazed out the window of the Ferris wheel box, watching the hustle and bustle of the fair below, neon lights and neon colors and the screaming of ride-goers fearing for their lives.

Instead, he found Sigma watching him, frowning as if in contemplation.

“Sigma~!” Nikolai waved a gloved hand in his face. “Sum Sum! Cookie! Siggy-my-Siggy!”

“Hm?” Sigma snapped to attention, mirror-like eyes clearing as he shook his head. Nikolai squealed internally as the braid in his hair flicked about (the one that he’d plaited). “Sorry, could you repeat that again?”

Nikolai pouted theatrically. “You’re not even looking at the view!” He put his hands together and looked up at Sigma with widened eyes. As Sigma chewed his lip guiltily, Nikolai held back a grin. “Do you not like it? Are you not having fun? Are you secretly plotting my demise?”

“What!? No! What even…” Sigma sighed and shoved Nikolai’s face. “I just had… stuff on my mind, I guess.”

Nikolai pulled closer to Sigma in response to being pushed away, now flush against his side. “Always in your head, hmmmmm?” He sandwiched Sigma’s cheeks between his hands, relishing the warmth of skin. “But I dragged you here to cut you free from all that! Look at your face! You’ll have wrinkles from sulking so much.” Nikolai squished and kneaded his face until his hands were batted away.

“It’s because you dragged me here that it’s hard for me to enjoy it! We’re supposed to be on a mission.” Guilt faded, Sigma crossed his arms and rumpled his brow. “And people keep giving us strange looks.”

Nikolai put a finger to his lips. “Have they? I didn’t notice! Why ever would they do so?”

“Because you’re wearing that.” Sigma eyed him up and down.

Obediently following his stare, Nikolai looked down at his full clown ensemble, a mishmash of patterns with a huge, frilly collar and balloon-like pants. Compared to Sigma’s lavender turtleneck and star-patterned slacks, Nikolai was dressed as though he were part of the carnival.

“But this is my normal date attire!” Nikolai wrapped himself around Sigma’s arm, winking. Framed by azure and white cotton clouds, the sky shifting behind him as they rose gradually through the air, Sigma’s face glowed pink.

“This isn’t a date!” Ah, Sigma’s flustered scowl and oh-so-cliché reaction — truly something to behold! His pretty eyes were narrowed and his perfect nose creased. It was a face that gave Nikolai impish butterflies, but he still found himself unfulfilled.

“So close! This isn’t a date… yet! Can you guess what’s missing?” Nikolai’s voice became grander, like a pop quiz host; before Sigma could respond, he continued. “I haven’t seen you smile once!”

Sigma frowned. “I have smiled.”

“Not enough! Oh, how I have failed you! What a sad, sorry, pitiful tragedy.” Nikolai pulled his lips into a grin of manic glee. With a flourish of his Overcoat, he stood, the clank of his boots on metal echoing in the bright red car. Sigma yelped, paranoid of it swinging.

He tapped a finger to his chin. “I’ve decided that I’m going to make you laugh! I bet it’s like waking up to angelic birdsong ♡.”

Sigma huffed, even as poppy red bloomed across his face. “I can laugh just fine without your help.”

“Oh? I’ve never heard you laugh before.”

“I’ve never heard you say anything funny.”

Gasping, Nikolai threw himself at Sigma’s feet, squeezing at his knees. “Cruel, cruel, so utterly cruel!”

Like that, he’d stumbled upon a windfall.

Sigma jolted, face freezing in a wobbly smile and pool-sized eyes. With a garbled yelp, he kicked at Nikolai’s chin and slapped a hand over his mouth.

Blinking, the jester squeezed again. And again. And again until Sigma, red in the face, was yanking his wrists away and shouting at him to cut it out.

Nikolai grinned.

“Whoopsie-daisy! Have I just discovered the key to Sigma’s smiles~ ✩?” He pulled himself up and leaned into Sigma’s space, forcing the other to peer up at him, fearful.

He swallowed. “I- I don’t know what you’re— WAHAhaha NOHO!”

Twisting his own arms, Nikolai had freed himself from Sigma’s grip and captured his wrists in one hand. His other kneaded circles into the top of Sigma’s knee. Sigma shook his head desperately, his cheeks curved, his lashes glued together in giddiness; Nikolai’s heart somersaulted.

“AHEAha STAhahaHAP! NAHakoholahai!”

“Yes, Little Red?” The color in Sigma’s face grew more radiant, and Nikolai trilled proudly. “Ooh, I know, you’re wondering if my theory was correct? Let’s see, let’s see… Your laughter is certainly a melody! Not quite birdsong though, perhaps more like a squalling pigeon!”

In Nikolai’s hand, Sigma’s fists clenched and unclenched. Cute. “ShuhuhUT AHAhahup!” Sigma shrieked and protested and headbutted his shoulder, attempting to push him away. Nikolai just nuzzled into his hair’s poofy, jagged part. His fingers found the contour of Sigma’s hip and exhumed a squawk and a lurch.

Like a capricious explorer, Nikolai’s mitts darted around the map that was Sigma’s figure. Fingers crawling, spidering up his thighs. A hand worming between his arm and his ribs despite how tightly he squeezed them together. Nikolai imagined Sigma’s nerves must be audibly fried, like so many hay bales after catching a spark.

“I rather like that you fight back, you know?” hummed Nikolai. “A little birdie born in a cage doesn’t know to be free, yet here you are!”

“STAhahap tahahalking about freeHEHEedom!” Even through squeals and giggles, the exasperation in his order was obvious.

Nikolai pouted. “You don’t wish to listen to my philosophy? But you’re my muse! The sight of you simply brings such marvelously poignant prose to my mind.”

He dropped Sigma’s hands, which thwacked Nikolai on his shoulders, then dug into his sleeve. “Dohohon’t youHEEhee stAHahart! PftahahaHEY!”

As he pinched at his hips, Nikolai found himself swaying to Sigma’s laughter. Rolling, euphonious, sprinkled with light, like the cosmos. Like stargazing, his joy felt pacific and snug, blanketing.

Nikolai would keep this memory locked in his vanity. With a hazy forlornness, he pondered if he would miss this sound when he was finally free.

Or perhaps he was merely losing his mind.

As suddenly as he’d started, Nikolai concluded his mischief when Sigma had burrowed into his arms, screeching muffled nonsense and beating his chest. The magnificent finale found Nikolai supporting the man by his shoulders as he wheezed and wiped away tears.

“Youhou’re such ahaha nuisahance…”

“Thank you!” Nikolai dodged the blow thrown his way.

In the end, Sigma’s meticulously sectioned hair had fallen into disorder, lily and lilac confused and astray. Out of the kindness of his heart, Nikolai began guiding the tufts back in place.

“So, is this a date yet, diamond? Is it is it!?” Nikolai fished for attention.

“You’re ridiculous,” Sigma puffed. His voice was warm and giggly, his nose buried in Nikolai’s ruff. Nikolai could feel the suppleness of Sigma’s cheek against his neck and pretended not to lean into it.

“I guess… it could be a date, but—”

Gthunk.

Sigma wrenched his head away as the Ferris wheel cart bumped and swayed. Against his wishes, Nikolai let him go.

“What happened? Did the wheel stop!?” Sigma, finally, mushed his face against the window. Indeed, they were at the peak, and the shifting of the scenery and gentle pull of the mechanisms had ceased. “We’re trapped! We need to call someone!”

Contrarily, Nikolai cackled. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean ‘don’t worry about it’?” Sigma whipped around to glare at him, frantic.

He beamed. “I mean we’re not trapped!” Brandishing his Overcoat, Nikolai stuck his hand through to boop Sigma’s nose. “Don’t work yourself into a tizzy, silly!”

“Oh.” Sigma’s posture opened in realization, coupled with a bashful sideways glance. “You… You’re right. Sorry to panic.”

“No need! It’s what I like about you.” Before Sigma could ask what that meant, Nikolai pointed to the window again. “And now you can admire the view! Isn’t it astounding?”

Relaxing in his seat, Sigma gazed at the cloud-covered sky and the flurry of the festivities below. He pressed close to Nikolai, and the pair curled around each other, like two turtle doves. “It’s nice.” He smiled his aloe vera smile. “It’s familiar.”

“Right!?” Nikolai took Sigma’s hands in his own. Sigma laughed freely, breathily. “I had a hunch you would fancy it!”

Sigma met his stare. “Thanks.” His moon-toned eyes crinkled and shone. Nikolai’s chest clenched to have such a face trained on him for once.

If he were standing, he would’ve spun around. Instead, he bowed. “Only my dearest pleasure!” He kissed Sigma’s hand just to feel his skin warm.

Then Nikolai pulled Sigma’s hands over his shoulder, so abruptly their noses bumped. Surprised and suddenly nervous eyes locked with Nikolai’s. He simpered. “But we still have so long before we’re rescued. It would be a shame to waste it.” Roguish, he rested his hand on the other’s waist. Sigma, despite his apprehensive gape, was already smiling. “Why don’t we have some fun?”

Thus, the pair made good use of their free time, and not much of it was spent enjoying the fair below.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

IB this fic <33 kiss kiss get stuck on a carnival ride

I am what they call an EmuKasa truther, I see a Ferris wheel scene and my heart explodes

Also I continue to not know WHAT COLOR SIGMA’S EYES ARE

[askthekoopsandjr]

Happy Valentine's Day! I don't have a drawing, but do know that it's chocolate chaos in Bowser's Castle right now lol.

Suzuka drew Ludwig a sketch of him and gave him homemade sachertorte (adorned with a rose teehee), which Ludwig absolutely adored. Ludwig gave Suzuka a GIANT pile of konpeitō (his favorite little candies) and chocolates he had the castle chefs make lmao, as well as an entire day of cuddles, heartfelt piano sessions, and sappy words. :,3

Wendy asked Pom Pom to hang out like gal pals. Like total gal pals who do normal gal pal things like go to the fair and sit really close on the ferris wheel and-

Morton baked chocolate cakes for everyone... And actually did a good job??

Iggy and Lemmy made heartfelt pranks... But made up for it by giving everyone little trinkets they thought they would like (and hugs!)

Roy acted grumpy and careless all day: "None of that sappy crap!" ... But secretly really appreciated getting chocolates and candies from his siblings. Maybe some confections will come in return when they least expect it...

Larry, being the 9 year old he is, was absolutely insane all day from all that sugar. He was zooming up and down the halls, crash-hugging anyone who got in the way.

Junior was showered with gifts galore from his papa, of course. He shared some of it with the Koopalings, pretending like he was told to instead of doing it on his own accord.

Kamek gave everyone little cards that said what he appreciated most about them, along with a little chocolate. He was a very happy "grandpa" watching over everyone today :,3

And Bowser... Well, I'm sure you can imagine his attempts to Peach. He may have also gotten a little valentine from Luigi to try and make him feel better, which certainly stirred the fire within him...

[lovings4turn]

could you maybe plz write something w/ steve harrington coming out as bi to his gf?? he’s just my lil bi boy and i feel like it’d be cute 🥹

☆ you're still you (s.h.)

— steve has something important to tell you, and you're there to reassure him

+ as a bi girlie myself,, bi steve holds a special place in my heart so i love this idea — is it the most realistic portrayal? no but its fun n cute and thats what matters!

instantly, you can tell that something isn't right.

the first sign: steve doesn't immediately hug you when you open the door.

he still envelopes you into his arms at the speed of light, sure, but there's a moment of hesitation that is never normally present when it comes to you. you're willing to brush it off, until the strange behaviour continues.

the second sign: your normally talkative and clingy boyfriend is acting oddly quiet, and his jokes and comments towards the movie you're currently watching seem almost forced.

it's after his fifth halfhearted joke of the evening that you pause the movie, turning to face your boyfriend despite his protests and complaints.

"we were just getting to the best part!" steve whines, a teasing pout playing on his lips.

"steve," you begin, voice soft. steve notices the way you're acting, treating him as though he's a wounded animal, and it's like he knows exactly where this conversation is going.

"i'm fine," he says, voice firm but still soft. it's a tone reserved only for when he doesn't want to speak about something, which does nothing to quell your growing suspicions.

his hand goes to rest on your arm, the touch grounding, and he runs his palm up and down your skin in a soothing motion. "don't worry about me, baby, 'm okay."

"but you're not, steve. you've been acting off all night."

you aren't annoyed, no, you're the furthest thing from it right now. concerned is more of an apt word. you take his silence as a sign to keep talking, knowing if you press just a little longer, he'll come out with it.

"steve, babe, i just wanna know what's wrong," you say, putting your hand on top of his own and squeezing it in a show of reassurance. "hate seeing you like this and not being able to do anything about it."

steve sighs, and the force of his exhale causes his body to shake slightly.

"alright," he mumbles, more to himself in an effort to build up the courage to confess whatever it was he was holding so close to his chest.

"i like you," he begins, wetting his lips with his tongue as he weighs over his next words carefully. "but i... i think i might also like boys, as well..?"

his voice turns up at the end of his statement, making it more of a question as he scans your face for any sign of a reaction. he looks scared, and it hurts you to think steve had felt a level of worry or shame about admitting such a thing.

giving him your most reassuring look, you pull him into a tight hug and can practically feel his body go limp with relief, muscles no longer tense and alert.

"oh steve," you hum, pulling back to cup his face with your hand. his deep, brown eyes are wide as they look into your own, and you can't help but pepper kisses all over his face, delighting in the sound of a laugh escaping his lips. "is that all? you're still you, y'know. it doesn't matter to me, not one bit."

after a pause, you give him a cheeky grin, nodding towards the tv.

"now i see why you're so obsessed with 'ferris bueller's day off'," you tease. "ferris and sloane are quite the eye candy."

as he shoves your shoulder with a disgusted groan, unable to hide the wide smile spreading across his lips, you can't help but feel your heart swell.

your normal steve is back, and you couldn't be happier.

[collisvng]

COTTON CANDY KISSES ♡¸.•*

Pairing ♡ Choi Yeonjun x Fem Reader 🩷

Synopsis ♡ You stumbled upon a random carnaval after the guys had just finished filming a music video nearby. During filming you spotted what looked like a ferris wheel in the far off distance. After one brief mention of it, that was all the boys could talk about. And Yeonjun made it a point to make you his ride buddy. 🩷

Word Count ♡ 2,719 + 3 sm screenshots 🩷

YOUR HEART WAS RACING.

Breaths of air entered and exited your body as you were being forced to run. 

You were hand in hand with your best friend Yeonjun, rushing through crowds of people to try and be the first in line at a ride he so desperately wanted to get on. His eyes were full of excitement, giggling at your exhausted groans as you trailed behind him.

He was taller, his legs were longer, and you… were struggling.

The two of you stumbled upon this random carnaval after Yeonjun had just finished filming a music video nearby. The staff let you sit in on shoots sometimes upon the guys’ request, and today you were especially lucky.

During filming you spotted what looked like a ferris wheel in the far off distance. After one brief mention of it, that was all the boys could talk about. The staff found their excitement so enamoring that they simply couldn’t say no.

So now you were here; standing in line with your pink-haired bestie as he shifted from foot to foot in excitement while staff stood at an unnotable distance.

The guys were off on other rides, purposely leaving you and Yeonjun alone.You knew what they were doing, and you wanted to fight them because of it. They knew you liked him—the subtle wink from Soobin followed by the thumbs-up they all gave you as Yeonjun yanked you away was more than enough confirmation. 

With each new ride you got on, your heart continued to lose control. Whether it came from the carnival adrenaline or simply because Yeonjun wasn’t letting go of your hand was a whole other topic. 

You were also both wearing facemasks to blend in, just as the rest of the boys and staff were. Every once in a while his mask would slightly fall down his face during rides, leading you quickly panic and fix it for him once each ride was over.

He’d wink at you each time you helped him, gaining a shy eyeroll from you in response. The way you’d frantically pull the fabric over his nose while checking around to see if anyone noticed was amusing to him.

You thought he was a dork—he thought you were the cutest thing ever.

After going on what felt like the hundredth spinning ride of the afternoon, you took a deep breath.

“I think I need a break,” you said as you untwinded your fingers from his. “You are crazy. This is crazy. How the hell do you just get on rides and keep going? Where are the breaks?”

He shrugged. “You know I don’t like taking breaks baby.”

Wiggling his torso, he walked up to you. His little dance granted you free range to playfully punch his side before bending over and resting your hands on your knees.

“If my heart wasn’t revving so hard right now, I’d fight you,” you huffed as he let out a loud laugh.

It took you a moment to catch your breath, which he took considerable notice too. He hadn’t realized that you were actually suffering from the constant ride hopping. He started to feel bad and decided it was best to just take a moment to yourselves. You thanked him, then the both of you just continued to walk around.

It was a lovely day. The blue sky looked like a beautiful backdrop to the chaotic plethora of people skedaddling from one destination to another in front of you. You looked up at the ferriss wheel in the distance yet again, taking in its charm. Yeonjun noticed as he spared a glace at you, smiling.

“Hey,” his tone came out more cheery then normal, “do you know what sounds really good right now?”

“An inhaler?” You coughed.

“Nope!” 

He skipped ahead, making the jeans jacket he was wearing flutter a bit with each hop. You slowly followed behind, only stopping when you both came up to a small concession stand in the middle of the crowd.

The small booth had an array of snacks lined up: churros, corn dogs, popcorn, and even those little Minute-Maid gelato cups. But Yeonjun’s gaze fell on the beautiful bags of cotton candy that cascaded along the side of the stand like a beautiful rainbow.

As he picked a pink bag out of the bunch, you heard a small PING! coming from your pocket. You took out your phone rolled your eyes. 

Of course it was Soobin.

“Who ya texting?”

“GOSH!” You instantly shuttered at the sudden voice whispering in your ear. 

As you turned to face your friend, you immediately locked your phone and slid it into your back pocket. Yeonjun stood there with a mixture of satisfaction and confusion on his face as he watched your screen disappear from his peripheral view. He opened his small, clear bag filled to the brim with strawberry flavored clouds and began pulling out individual pieces.

“Geez,” he pulled down his mask and put some of the pink fluff into his mouth, “if I had known you were going to react like that I would have just let you stand there until you were done.”

The cotton candy was a hue somewhere between baby and bubblegum pink. It was wooly, flocculent, and only a few shades lighter than Yeonjun’s lips—which you found yourself staring at as he fed himself. The pout on his face left you in a trance that you so desperately needed to get out of before he noticed. You shook your head, blinking a few times, before focusing on the cotton candy bag yourself.

“You know what,” you snatched the bag away and began walking off, “just for that, I’m stealing this!”

Your strides only became more rapid as you rushed away in the other direction. A loud “HEY!” left Yeonjun’s mouth as he hurried towards you, once again skipping a little along the way. It made you smile, maybe a little bit too much, which only made you walk faster. 

Eventually he caught up with you, reaching for the bag of spun sugar. You playfully held it away from him, leading him to lean over you for it. His face was only millimeters away from yours; eyes fixated on the bag and a bright grin spread across his face.

He was so endearing, it sent you into a small spiral that you tried to defer from. Grabbing a piece of the cotton candy, you held it up to his hair and stepped away. The pink was almost an exact match to his hair, which made a great excuse for a joke. Surely that would break the tension in your mind… right?

“Oh look,” you pretended to pull a piece of fluff from his head. “Who needs a bag when I could just eat you.”

“In your dreams,” he took the bag back from you in one swoop. “I like the sentiment tho.”

He winked.

You groaned. 

“Ew.” You wanted to hit him. “You wish.” 

You were completely enamored with him.

“Fine,” he held up the bag as high as he could with his right arm, staring down at you. Shoving his face very close to yours, a smirk tattooed itself on his lips yet again. It was something he always did before he challenged you, and you loved challenges.

You pulled your mask down and stuffed the cotton candy in your hand into your mouth before standing up to him. When you reached for the bag, he leaned his face lower as if to kiss you.

It was a trick he used on his band members, which you were well aware of. Nine out of ten times they would shy away, giving into Yeonjun’s manipulation tactic.

But you were different—never backing down when he pulled that kind of thing with you. Which is why when you stood on tip-toes in order to kiss back, he pulled back immediately.

“Aye!” His eyes widened as he gritted his teeth. “Damnit. I forgot you’re not like the guys.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I dunno,” he handed the bag back to you and shrugged. “I guess we’ll never know.”

*•.¸♡¸.•*

The day quickly turned to night.

You and Yeonjun had practically gone on every ride you possibly could.

There was a brief intermission where you both met up with the guys for a bit to eat and go on a few rides together as a group. But after about the third ride, the group seemed to disband once again. Yeonjun appeared to be completely oblivious to his friends’ schemes, but you were on your last limb.

You could only get flustered so much for so long; it was getting to the point where you wanted the day to just end so you could relieve yourself from the torture. And luckily for you, it was about to. 

As the sky began to darken, one of the managers signaled that it was almost time to start heading out. Yeonjun pouted and pleaded to at least go on one more ride before leaving—which staff gave into (again).

Straight away, your hand was grabbed yet again and you were being dragged along to whatever destination that was on your friend’s agenda. It wasn’t until you both approached the ferris wheel that you were taken aback.

You cocked your head to the side, looking at him without a word.

“What? You kept staring at it,” Yeonjun stated as if it were the most obvious thing ever. “Plus this was the whole reason why we came here in the first place.”

The two of you stood in line while Yeonjun shifted his weight from side to side, tip-toeing forward. You couldn’t comprehend why he was getting so anxious; he literally loved heights. In the end, you figured it was just the excitement of it being the last ride of the night and let it go.

When you guys got to the front, Yeonjun held the cabin door open for you then followed suit as the two of you sat down. The both of you sat across from one another; his side facing more towards the fair while yours had more of a view of the fair parking lot than anything else.

Your face masks were pulled down and forgotten yet again at this point as you stared straight ahead; seeing the lights grow smaller and smaller.

“Wah…” Yeonjun’s astonishment for the sight came out in just one simple breath as he looked down.

Aside from the lit up beams of the ferris wheel holding the carts in place blocking a fraction of his view, he could see everything. The crowded spaces on the ground were dark, but the rides surrounding the people were filled with light.

Various greens, reds, yellows, and pinks glowed amongst the people with brief white lights here and there from different street lamps. As the rides moved in different directions the lights blurred and re-focused in his vision. 

“You can see everything from up here,” he turned to face you. “Look, you can see the ride that we—”

It was in that moment he realized that you couldn’t really see much on your end. The parking lot behind you was a gray contrast to colors that shined from behind his silhouette. You were leaned over, stretching your neck out to see the view that he was seeing instead. And to him, that just wouldn’t do.

“You should come sit over here,” he stated as nodded towards the fairgrounds behind him.

You shook your head. Not because you didn't want to, but because the thought of sitting next to him made your heart rev all over again. “I’m okay… really.”

An eye roll from him ensued as he began to playfully whine. He was urging you to move so you could enjoy the ride, but you weren’t budging. Or at least, weren’t until he discovered your weakness.

He briefly stood up and reached over to grab your hand, causing the cart to sway. You let out a scream and grabbed hold of your seat. Pleading words telling him to stop shaking the cabin due to fear spilled out of you, yet he wasn’t stopping.

You could tell he was also afraid of what his shaking might do, but you also knew it wasn’t going to end until you did what he wanted.

So you stood, pressing your palms to the side of the cart to hold yourself up as you slowly inched forward. 

“There you go,” Yeonjun winked, followed by you quickly replying, “I hate you.”

As you made it to the other side, the ride stopped and you stumbled forward. In a state of panic, Yeonjun let out a swear and reached out to catch you. There was a brief moment of pause before the both of you realized you were now only centimeters away from his face, leaned over with your hands firmly gripping his shoulders to hold yourself in place. 

Your body became tense as the air filled with sudden tension. Yeonjun had his hands around your waist, and the most panicked look in his eyes. Before he could speak though, you glanced up at the view behind him.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled, taking in your new distraction. “I think we’re actually at the top now.”

Your breath was taken away as you could finally see the beautiful view Yeonjun had seen. The lights, the sounds—everything was wonderful.

The only difference now was that the people below were so far away at this point that they looked like ants to you. You chuckled at the thought, causing Yeonjun to snap out of his flustered state and spare a glance at you.

“What is it?”

“They look so tiny,” you laughed. “It’s like I’m watching a bunch of sims walking around from a sky view.”

“That’s a strange sentiment,” Yeonjun stated.

You glanced up at him for a moment before looking out to the world again. “Strange, but pretty.”

A smirk appeared on your friend’s face, but you were too entertained to notice. And while you were seeing the view, Yeonjun was seeing you.

The way your eyes sparkled in astonishment. How the altering colorful lights bounced off your skin, changing it to different colorful hues with each second. And realizing that your smile was unmatched to any other smile he had ever seen in the past.

You were his best friend… How could he have missed this before?

“You’re pretty,” were the only words he could manage to get out. His voice was quiet, yet soft. But not enough for you not to hear. 

Your smile dropped and your heart immediately felt like it was going to leap out of your chest.

Frozen by the sudden statement, you slowly turned to face him. His eyes were narrowed, and he searched your face. It was like he was trying to look at any other part of it to avoid looking at your lips.

His body was suddenly leaning forward, and by instinct yours was too.

“What is happening?” You breathily questioned as your faces were once again only inches from each other’s.

Without a second thought he replied, “Can I kiss you?”

“Will you actually let me kiss you this time?” You were so close your noses were touching.

“I’ll let it slide just this once.”

Grabbing your chin with his thumb and index finger, he pulled your face downward to completely close the gap between you. Your lips met for a moment before the both of you pulled back to look at each other. There were no words. There was no questioning.

The both of you knew this was probably going to be an awkward conversion that you had to have once the ride ended. But that didn’t matter to you—you were finally kissing your best friend who you’ve had a crush on for years.

You were on cloud nine. And by the way he ran his finger down your cheek and lifted your chin to kiss you again, you could tell he felt the same way.

The second kiss was more passionate and lasted longer than the first. When it ended, Yeonjun rested his forehead against yours and sighed. 

“The guys are gonna give us such shit for this.”

You shrugged. “Oh trust me, I already know.”

Notes ♡ Ayeeeeee! Hope you guys liked this small drabble... 🫶🏼 I wanted to post it on Yeonjun’s birthday, but unfortunately didn't get to finish it in time. I am working on part 2 of Walk of Shame to post as a late Jisung birthday present! And there might be something for Felix being posted in the future as well. 🫣 Thank you guys for reading! Hope you look forward to what else is coming soon. 🩶 — collisvng✨️

[fangirleaconmigo]

Is it too Late (Can we Start Again) Geraskier. 3600 words. Mature. Hurt/Comfort. Geralt taking care of Jaskier and his burns. Gift fic for @masterlokisev159 for the @witcherficwriters Winter Gift Exchange.

Also on ao3

Jaskier had never been a martyr. 

After the unpleasant business with Rience, he had planned to take a break from being the Sandpiper until his hands healed. After Yen had left and he’d gotten out of jail, he had gone home.

A young elf had tracked him down at home when he hadn’t shown up to the tavern the first night. Jaskier looked into her eyes and gave his apologies. He showed her his angry, blistered hands. 

“I’m so sorry, dear, but I can’t play the lute with burned hands, and I can’t sing a capella for these philistines. The proprietor won’t allow it.”

Surely, someone else could do it for a couple of weeks. That was all it would take to heal up enough to play. He was only human after all, and he wasn’t the only one helping smuggle the elves out. Someone else could play and then sneak them onto the ferry.

But that same night, they closed the ferry to tourists and visitors. Jaskier didn’t know it.

With the ferry closed to visitors, the performer the elves had gotten to take his place was not allowed onto the boat. Jaskier was home for a night of rest when the stranded elves decided to try to swim. 

The next morning, Jaskier was walking along the water, headed to his favorite bakery, when he came upon the scene of an elf’s body being fished out of the river.

He ran to the tavern and found a survivor. After listening to the whole story, Jaskier understood his predicament. Under the new rules, he would be the only performer qualified for admittance onto the boat. He was the only one here who could help.

Before things had gotten too bad, he'd bought a place across the water, so he was considered a resident. He was a resident with a gig that warranted his travel back and forth nightly. There was also the matter of his fame, which afforded him a certain amount of protection. 

It could only be him.

Jaskier marched directly to a healer and coated his hands in an adhesive that felt like the flames of hell. That had worked his first night back, but the second night, it started peeling.

So, the healer devised a special pair of thin gloves that were thicker than adhesives, but more supple than cloth. It helped for a night, but then his burns began to weep. 

But he kept playing. What else could he do?

His friend, Sam, noticed. “Why don’t you take a break?” he asked. 

Jaskier laughed a little too loudly, just before downing his tenth shot of whiskey of the night. “I’m a whore for attention, my sweet friend, I’d waste away without a night of the stuff.” He threw his arms wide and stumbled towards the stage. “I just can’t live without the applause, dear Sam.” 

If Jaskier had known more about infection, he would have known to be worried when the fever hit.

--------

Geralt of Rivia threw open the door of the tavern. The first sensations to hit him were those of the crowd. Ale. Sweat. Lust. 

The second sensation to hit him was his body’s reaction to hearing that voice again. It was sweet and sour. It made him feel joy, followed quickly by shame and guilt. He closed the door quickly and slunk against the wall, looking for a place to watch.

At least he’d made it in time. Jaskier was still upright. Still singing.

He knew his friend must hate him. If Geralt had spoken to him right away after he’d lost his temper, if he had set things right, it wouldn’t be like this. But Geralt had left without a word. It was what he did. 

He shouldn’t be there now, he knew that too. But he had to be. Jaskier needed him. He might not want him. But he needed him.

He examined his friend from the cover of a shadowy corner. Jaskier wasn’t prowling the tavern like he normally did. He was perched on a stool. His voice was breathier. His hair was longer. He wore a long leather coat now, and a hat. 

The most important bits were the same, though. Those were his eyes. That was his voice. This was the man who Geralt now understood that he loved, though it was far too late to do anything about that. But he could still make himself useful. He could still help.

As Jaskier sang, the crowd hung on every note. Being a witcher, with all the sensory inputs that entailed, was an overwhelming thing when sitting in Jaskier’s audience.

Jaskier always broke open deep wells of longing in his audience. But whether people were feeling those things for memories long past, or for the man in front of them, Geralt never knew. He could never separate it out.

Despite himself, Geralt felt something like territorial anger. He let it subside. 

There was no time for his childishness, because the third sensation that swept over him was panic.

Underneath the mass of things to see, smell, taste, and hear in a crowded tavern, lurked an evil, wicked scent too faint for anyone else to detect. It was like vinegar and something rotten.

It was an infection that had spread and turned into something else.

Unlike the audience, Geralt could see the truth of the matter. Jaskier’s eyes weren’t sparkling. They were glassy. His skin wasn’t glowing. That was sweat. The heat radiating from his skin wasn’t the heat of excitement. It was the clamminess of illness. Jaskier held a long note, and finally, looked straight at Geralt.

The bard’s eyes widened in shock. A string twanged and broke. Silence fell. There was an awkward, pregnant pause. Then, Jaskier’s eyes rolled slowly back in his head, and he pitched forward.

His body fell hard from the stool, like an unbalanced sack of bricks. His head would have hit the corner of the table as he fell, but by the time he reached it, he was already in Geralt’s arms.

-------

The first time Jaskier awoke, it was like a nightmare. The world was hazy. His tongue felt fat in his mouth. He could not hold onto reality. It slipped out of focus. It faded from his grasp.

Was he dead? Dying?

As a poet, Jaskier thought often about life and death. The moment of death, he supposed, cut through a lot of shit. The thought that occupied your mind the moment you believed it was all over was the thing you should have lived for. The people who were there by your bed were the ones who lived for you.

And there, in his moment of death, or near death, what he saw surprised him, though it shouldn’t have.

Lurking in the tiny dark room was a gleam of white hair. A glint of feline eyes. He did not know if Geralt was really there or if he only imagined him. But he thought of Geralt, only of Geralt, and he whimpered. 

Darkness came for him again, but the inky black could not take everything from him. There was another presence in the pitch black. It was his Witcher sitting by his side. It was the man he thought did not care for him. But he was there, so maybe he did.

Then, there was the cold.

Jaskier was being poked and prodded. Voices floated above his body, arguing with one another.

One voice was low and rumbly and, yes, it was Geralt. His Geralt. 

Jaskier’s consciousness slowly flickered to life. He was naked and cold. So cold. It was the kind of deep cold that ached in your bones. It was the kind of stabbing cold that made you want to sell your own grandmother for a shred of warmth. He felt several blankets atop him, but they didn’t seem to help.

“We need a fire.” Geralt sounded angry, but he was hiding it well.

The other man in the room demurred. “They’re rationing our wood and tinder now. We’re all freezing.”

“But he’s sick!” Geralt roared, all of his restraint gone. “He’s in shock!” 

The man squeaked in fear and scampered away, slamming the door behind him.

Geralt cursed as many curses as he could summon, calling upon all the languages of the elder races and humanoids put together. He strung them together like a symphony. Jaskier didn’t even know that Geralt knew so many dwarven curses. Then, Geralt plopped down at Jaskier’s side and buried his face in his hands.

His hands. Jaskier’s eyes fluttered open for heartbeat, catching a glimpse of them.

They were just as thick as before. Just as gnarled. His hair hung over them in a curtain. His broad shoulders hunched, pinched in grief.

And then he whispered.

“I frightened the man away. I’m sorry, Jaskier. I keep fucking it all up. But I’m here. I don’t know what I’m good for. But I’m here.”

Jaskier shivered. His teeth made a clattering noise. Geralt’s face whipped up and his hand darted to Jaskier’s neck, groping for his pulse. 

“Are you awake? Jaskier? Are you there?”

“Cold.” Jaskier croaked. “Cold.”

Geralt disappeared for a second. It was only an instant, but Jaskier felt like the whole sun had been plucked from the sky.

Then there was a cup being tipped to his lips. 

“Just sip. Slowly.”

He obeyed. He took a few sips.

“Cold,” he insisted. 

Jaskier wrenched his eyelids open again. Geralt’s face was etched deeply with worry. The last time Jaskier had seen him, he’d been angry. Shouting. But now he looked old and tired. 

Jaskier had thought that the next time he saw Geralt, he would shout at him. 

In his fantasies he would be dressed to the hilt. Sometimes he pictured himself in black, with kohl around his eyes, and hair sweeping his forehead. Sometimes he pictured himself in maroon. It set off his eyes. But no matter what he wore, it would be tailored. It would show off his newly honed athleticism. He would be performing, or at least he would have fans nearby, one of whom would interrupt their conversation asking for a kiss.

Jaskier would grant it of course.

Then he would continue his righteous, angry rant. 

He hadn’t planned on being too angry, of course. He couldn’t seem pathetic or out of control. He had settled on expressing a cool, casual anger. He would express himself in verse, and be clever. Geralt, in this fantasy, would say that he had been right. In fact, Jaskier would be so eloquent that Geralt would have no other choice.

You are right Jaskier, I should have never abandoned you.

You are right Jaskier, you do not make my life worse, you make it better.

I love you Jaskier, and I’m no longer afraid to say it.

He would kneel, and Jaskier would decide whether he forgave him or not.

In all of his fantasies, Jaskier forgave Geralt, of course. He pictured walking away from Geralt once, denying him, and he’d almost thrown up. 

But now there Geralt was, worry and kindness written on his face. Love bathing in his eyes. It was not the kind of face you shouted at, not if you had a heart beating in your chest. And further, there Jaskier was. No finery. No admirers. Sick. Stinking. Weak. And as for his eloquence, all he could say was... 

“Cold.”

Geralt cleared his throat and his eyes darted around the room. He spoke haltingly, unable to finish a single sentence. “I could warm you. But… the best way to do that is… It’s indecent.”

Jaskier allowed his head to roll over, until his eyes locked with Geralt. “Do it,” he croaked.

Jaskier’s eyelids dragged closed again, but he managed to hang onto his consciousness by a sliver. Geralt undressed in the dark, fabric sliding over skin, falling to the ground. He removed each of his rings. They clattered on the nightstand. Then he removed the ties in his hair, and lastly, his medallion.

“Are you alright?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier’s heart was pounding.

“Maybe this was a bad idea. We have to keep your heart rate steady.”

“Do it,” hissed Jaskier, a tear sliding from one of his eyes. 

Geralt’s hands were on him again. Geralt’s lips were pressed to the corner of his eye, blotting out the tear. Then, Geralt climbed into bed with him.

Geralt was a mountain of a man. The bed creaked under him. But he was so gentle. He arranged himself around Jaskier, draping his limbs over him tenderly. Geralt touched him like he was the most precious thing in the world, and would tear if handled carelessly. Geralt pulled the blanket over the two of them, and a refuge of heat formed around them. 

Jaskier was in Geralt’s arms, just as he had always dreamed.

“Am I dead?” he croaked.

Geralt kissed his temple. “I thought you were for a minute. You scared the shit out of me. I thought I’d really lost you.” 

It was the first time Jaskier had ever heard real fear in Geralt’s voice.

“This is real? This is actually real?”

Jaskier had been experiencing odd visions just before he’d collapsed. What if this was one of them?

“It’s real, Jaskier.”

“Oh, fuck yes.” Jaskier burrowed into his arms, luxuriating in every press of skin. That was Geralt’s chest. His arms. His hips. His scent. His breath. His heartbeat. He rubbed against him like a contented house cat.

Geralt huffed in flattered amusement at Jaskier’s joyous reaction.

When Jaskier had fantasized about being in Geralt’s arms, and he had fantasized about it many times, he figured he would be wildly aroused. But now, he was very ill and all he felt was comfort and love. 

Darkness took him again.

He awoke later to the sound of Geralt whispering. “I am sorry, Jaskier. It’s easier to say it when you’re out. I’m a coward, I know. But I’m sorry.”

“Ha, ha,” Jaskier huffed. “‘M ‘wake. Heard you. You’re sorry.”

Geralt smiled softly, obviously relieved to see him awake again. 

Jaskier was pressed to Geralt’s chest now, and a pool of drool was formed around his chin. 

“‘M sorry too.”

“What are you sorry about?”

“‘been singing that butcher song about you for months like a rotten cunt. And after everything I’ve done to erase the butcher thing, I just...I wasn’t thinking, you know. I was only feeling. And...well...I regret it, my friend. The moment I saw you, it hit me like a stone what I was doing. You aren’t a butcher. You don’t deserve that. I’m sorry.” His voice failed from exhaustion and grief.

They sat for a heavy moment in the silence of their regrets. When Geralt answered, his voice was light but careful. “It’s alright.”

“But it’s not alright.”

“It is.”

“It isn’t. You’ll forgive me, but I will not forgive myself. I could have called you anything.”

It was quiet again. Geralt was the first to speak again. “Your friend Sam--”

“You know Sam?”

“He’s the one who came to find me. Told me you were ill. Said you wouldn’t listen to him.”

“Oh, darling Sam. I owe him one. What did he say?”

“He told me how you got your injuries. Jaskier,” Geralt’s voice choked and he was forced to pause and breathe. “Jaskier,” he continued, “I am going to find Rience and I am going to kill him.”

Geralt said it like it was a simple fact, and Jaskier believed him. But the simple mention of Rience’s name caused him to flinch. 

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Alright.” Geralt kissed his shoulder. 

It was odd how natural it felt. How Geralt had just started kissing him and they were both treating it like it was a normal thing for him to do. They were silent again for several long moments. 

“Thank you for coming, Geralt. I didn’t think--”

“I know, Jaskier. I know what you thought, because I know what I said. And I regret that. None of it was true. I wish I could take it back. I do care. And I am here.”

Jaskier lifted his head with difficulty and looked into Geralt’s eyes. “I thought this would be more difficult.”

“What?”

Jaskier smiled, lopsided and wry. “Getting you to apologize. I had it all planned out.”He tried to gesture in his normal manner, but only managed a sad little pirouette of one finger. “If I had only known. All I had to do was get disgustingly ill, look and smell deeply revolting, and you would come running to my aid. You saved my life Geralt. You are my hero yet again.”

Geralt blushed. He never took compliments well. Next, Jaskier knew, Geralt would change the subject. And he did.

“You had it planned out?”

“Obviously. First, I was going to accidentally run into you on a night in which I looked elegant and sophisticated, entirely by accident. I was going to speak my mind eloquently and compel you to see things my way.”

“You don’t have to convince me I was an ass. I know I was.” Geralt smirked and softly dragged his thumb across Jaskier’s forehead, pushing back the hair that had fallen into his eyes. “And I don’t want elegance and sophistication. I want you.”

“Hey. Rude. I’m plenty elegant,” said Jaskier, wiping the crust of drool from his chin with the back of his hand. His hands were still bandaged but felt remarkably improved. Geralt must have employed a magical healer. Jaskier didn’t want to know how much that had set him back. 

Geralt chuckled to himself for a moment, but then he cradled Jaskier’s hand and grew serious. “What you’re doing here, Jaskier, for the elves. Helping.”

It was silent again, as Geralt wrestled with his words. Jaskier managed to stay silent. 

“That’s what I—” He inhaled and exhaled. He examined Jaskier’s bandages with too much intensity. Then with much effort, he finished his sentence. “That is what I love most about you.”

“Are you saying that Geralt of Rivia is more impressed by kindness than by fashion? I should have known you’d be so boring.”

Geralt hummed in the affirmative. He pulled Jaskier in tighter. He squeezed him until it became laborious to breathe, but Jaskier would sooner faint than tell him to loosen his grip. The Witcher pressed his lips to Jaskier’s ear and began to whisper. Jaskier knew it was easier for him like that, when he could not look into his eyes. 

“Can we start again?” Geralt’s voice sounded thick and shaky. “Is it too late?”

Is it too late? 

The words echoed like a warning. Like an ill omen. Like a horror story.

Jaskier swallowed hard, pushing away all realities where that was true.

“Oh, Geralt,” he said with an air of superiority, pushing his hair from his face. “Too late is for people who are sensible enough to know when to quit.”

Jaskier pulled away, just enough to see Geralt’s face. He propped himself up on an elbow, his face so close to Geralt that he could see every tiny movement of his expressions. The corners of Geralt’s mouth twitched hopefully.

“Too late, my dear witcher,” Jaskier continued, tracing a bandaged finger along Geralt’s jaw and looking fondly into his eyes, “is for people who have no love left to fight for. It is for people who are cold and dead and in the ground.”

He kissed Geralt’s nose, and watched his Witcher’s face relax. A real smile spread on it, pushing away years and chasing away exhaustion.

“We, my dear man,” Jaskier continued, his chest warmed and his tongue loosened by the sight of hope on his beloved’s face, “are alive and foolish. And as it happens, I love you too.”

“You do?”

“I do. And love is the molten life blood of second chances. So yes, darling Witcher. Yes, my love. Let us start again.”

Geralt laughed and very nearly sobbed. “Fucking poet.”

“Your poet.”

Jaskier cradled Geralt’s face and leaned in. Geralt surged to meet his dry cracked lips, pressing into them, kissing them as though they were the most succulent delicacies in all of creation. 

That was what they did that first night.

They touched one another. They showed one another love in ways that did not require words. They kissed and grasped and moaned in the dark.

Jaskier was still weak, so Geralt handled him like bone china, trailing petal soft kisses along his ribs and his neck and his thighs. He looked at him with wonder and only consented to make love to him when Jaskier begged for it, assuring him that he would not break.

Geralt even managed to do that gently, slipping in and out of him with quiet moans, ensuring that he did not put any stress on Jaskier’s hands. It verged upon teasing and Jaskier begged and pleaded and shoved his body back onto Geralt until they both released, giddy and trembling. 

That was the shape of the new beginning that dawned in the lives of two old friends that night. Their courage was born in the shadow of terror but it ended in tender caresses traced along new and old scars alike. Their courage reveled in a familiar embrace. It found new ways of touching. It lost count of kisses. It gave a witcher and a bard their second chance in a small back room of an old tavern. And in the midst of war and loss, it brought them hope, and that was the thing that they needed most of all.

[got-into-worm-by-mistake]

Agitation 3.2 Live Reactions

(This is me, writing reactions as I read, because why the fuck not. They're not complete, mature thoughts taken after I sit back and evaluate what I've read. Consider them as such)

I was pleasantly surprised to find that the bus line that ended at the old ferry put me only a fifteen or twenty minute walk away from the loft that Lisa, Alec and Bitch called home.  I could be spending a fair bit of time there before I gathered enough information or earned enough trust from them to turn them in to the authorities, so the convenience was nice.

Convenience is very nice when scheming betrayal

 Tourists were already crowding the railings or migrating to the beach,

Tourists? In My Brockton Bay? It's More Likely* Than You Think?

*More Likely meaning 'any at all' bc wtf? Who would want to visit America's largest open air insane asylum? :P

I knew the tattoo on the arm of the guy lifting boxes into the florist’s van that read ‘Erase, Extinguish, Eradicate’ meant the guy was a white supremacist because it had the letter E repeated three times.

I mean, anyone with that kind of tattoo is either a fan of a knockoff version of 40k or a white supremacist, even if the local neo-nazis didn't have a triple E name.

Any of the store owners or employees could call the likes of Miss Militia, Armsmaster or Triumph in, given a minute. 

Given how many issues the city has, I'm not sure it's that simple.

I headed off the boardwalk and into one of the alleys leading into the Docks.  Glancing over my shoulder, I saw one of the uniformed enforcers staring at me.  I wondered what he was thinking.  Good kids didn’t hang out in the Docks, and I doubted I looked the part of a guileless tourist. The abandoned factories, warehouses and garages of the Docks all blended into one another very quickly.

So the shitty part of town is right next to the big tourist zone. Seems... ill thought out. Also reminds me of that line from Buffy where Cordelia says that the bad part of Sunnydale is right next to the good part, because "we don't have a whole lot of town here" but Brockton Bay is supposed to be bigger than Sunnydale.

...

Fic Idea: Brockton Bay gets a Hellmouth.

:rofl:

(I wonder how Taylor would fare against Buffyverse vampires? Vamps can feel pain, so a bunch of biting insects would still be a distraction, but...)

“Hey,” he said, “Lisa said you’d arrived.  I thought you had school.”

Normal Protagonists: "Don't Do Drugs, And Stay In School."

Skitter: "Drop out of School. Drugs are Fantastic." (So curious what the context for that second line is. No one tell me.)

As it turned out, it was less of a ‘sparring’ session than an attempt on Brian’s part to give a less than fully committed Alec some basic lessons on hand to hand fighting.

Is Alec capable of taking anything seriously, I wonder?

He wasn’t big in the sense of a bodybuilder or someone who exercised just to pack on muscle like you saw with some of the people just out of prison.  It was a little more streamlined than that.  You could see the raised line of a vein running down his bicep, and the definition of his chest showed through his shirt.

So lithe prettyboy?

“Well fuck this then,” Alec said, “If you’re going to go easy on me and still kick my ass, I don’t see the point.” “You should learn how to fight,” Brian said. “I’ll do like I have been and bring my taser,” was Alec’s response, “one poke and they’re out cold.  Better than any punch.”

On the one hand, you can always lose your taser. On the other hand, given the kinds of people Alec is likely to go up against, if he loses his taser, he's probably doomed either way.

“Okay, now you’re going to do two things different.  Step into the jab so you’ve got your body’s momentum behind the hit, on top of your arm’s power.  Second, I want your left arm up as you’re jabbing with your right, and vice versa.  If I see the chance, I’m going to pop you one on the shoulder or ribs, so be ready to fend me off.”

I know people for whom these sorts of scenes are absolutely shipper candy.

“How is that a ball?” I asked, raising my own foot to point at the vaguely spherical part of the foot where the ankle met the ground, “this is the only part that looks ball-like.”

She's not wrong.

“Ehhh,” he hedged, “Some.  My dad was a boxer when he was in the service, and he taught me some when I was little.  I moved on to other stuff on my own – Karate, Tae Kwon Do, Krav Maga – but nothing really held my interest.  I only took a few weeks or a month of classes for each.  I know enough and keep in shape, which is enough to hold my own against anyone who isn’t a black belt in whatever, which is the important thing, I think.  Keeping up with the more serious martial artists is a full time job, and you’re still going to run into people who are better than you, so I don’t see the point in stressing too much over it.”

I suppose I understand that. Besides, if Brian ends up against a Brute, no amount of training will matter. That's sort of how the Wormverse works, right? Batman, as he exists in DC, wouldn't work in Worm. (Granted, make Batman a Thinker or a Tinker and he's golden again, but as written, with technically no superpowers...)

Lisa’s voice just behind me startled me, “This.  Pull up your socks, boys and girl, because we’re robbing a bank.”

BANK ARC BANK ARC BANK ARC