#i really wish they went with a shaggy look instead of this

[johnskinda-vibin101]

What if I said

What if I said I'm cooking something for release????

[goblinontour]

To The First Girl Who Lit Him A Flame (Part 1)

you give fetus al his first blowjob

part 2 | part 3

warnings: smut, oral (m receiving), alcohol, idk that’s pretty much it

word count: 3.6k

you were never into big parties, instead you preferred just hanging out with your closest ones and getting drunk, making fools of yourselves. but your friends insisted you needed to come tonight. apparently one of the guys from school had an empty house and decided to let everyone in, no matter if he knew them or not.

so that’s how you found yourself in his kitchen pouring yourself another drink of some sort, mainly just vodka to be fair. if you’re here and there are free drinks might as well make the most of it. the house was loud, people everywhere, some you haven’t ever seen.

after you fixed yourself that drink you decided to look for your friends but they were nowhere to be found. not in the back garden, not in the house, not one of them. that made you nervous. you didn’t like talking to people you didn’t know that well. so you just went back to the small kitchen and luckily nobody was in there. you just slumped down on the floor, sitting against one of the cabinets, downing what you had in that cup, honestly wishing you didn’t come here at all. and your luck of being alone soon ran out because you heard some steps getting closer and eventually the door opened and you cursed to yourself.

it was alex. alex turner. you don’t know him that well really. he’s a year younger than you so friend groups didn’t overlap much. but you’ve always thought he was cute. you’ve both been going to the same school for some years so you’ve seen him around, you know he’s only been getting cuter and cuter as time went by. the fact that he could play guitar made him even more of a catch.

he was talking to someone as he entered the room but when he looked around and saw you on the floor his face went a bit red. he was very shy, but the alcohol gave him a bit more courage to be able to talk to you.

“hi y/n, you doing alright?” he was scratching his head, his shaggy hair getting all messed, sticking up in places.

“yep, just lost my friends, you?”

“fine, wanted to grab a beer, you want a drink? your cup’s empty.” he’s had the biggest crush on you for ages and this was his chance. tonight or never.

“oh, uhm…yeah, sure, whatever you’re having”

ugh, why are you talking like that, you think to yourself, getting all nervous around him. this is the most you two have ever talked. you shouldn’t be nervous, you were pretty tipsy at this point, drinking usually made you feel more at ease in times like this, so why was he making you feel like that? he seemed a bit nervous too. you brushed it off as just being because of the whole situation, being left alone and being pretty much strangers stuck at this party. well, you felt stuck, don’t know about him, he seemed in pretty good spirits though.

he grabbed two beers from the fridge and cracked them open. he leaned down to you so you could take it, and your fingers brushed against his for a second, sending shivers through your body. you got stuck for a moment, hand out to the bottle but not actually grabbing it from him. that’s until he snapped you out of it by asking “mind if i stay?” with a stupid cute smile on his face.

you shook your head, letting him know it’s alright. you weren’t going to kick him out anyway, not like it was your house. you patted the space on the floor next to you and he sat down as well, spreading his legs out in front of him and crossing them.

the two of you got talking, he was actually really nice, and smarter than you’d expect, especially considering he was younger than you. a year isn’t much but usually guys were dumber, except he wasn’t. he had his way with words and the way he gestured with his hands while he talked, and how he would do it all with a smile on his face. you didn’t realise it but you zoned out and just kept staring at him.

“you’re really pretty”

did you just say that out loud?

“is that right?” he said, turning away from you, focusing on the pattern of the tiles to calm himself down. was this really happening? he didn’t want to be cocky with the way he blurted out that response, just surprised you said that. he didn’t consider himself pretty, not really.

you already said it, no way to take it back, so you brought your hand up to his hair and started messing it up with your fingers. it was really soft.

“you are.”

“you’re really pretty too” smiling to himself as he said it, and after saying that he looked back at you, his eyes flicking in between yours and your lips, as if trying to decide if he should go for it or not. but he did. he grabbed you by the jaw softly, guiding your face towards his, and he kissed you. once your lips touched you couldn’t help yourself. you brought him even closer to you, your hand still in his hair, pulling slightly on it. your tongue soon poked at his lips, begging to taste him, and he complied, deepening the kiss filled with the bitterness of beer and whatever mix of liquor you’d both been consuming, but it was also sweet. he was sweet.

you intertwined one of your legs with his own, and he guided you to sit on his lap. you put your hands on his face, holding him in place as if he was going to run away. you couldn’t let that happen, not now. his hands found their place on your hips, barely touching you, like he was scared of doing something wrong. so you took the lead and moved them to your ass. you broke the mess of a makeout session you were having to say “you can touch me you know?” moving your lips to his neck, leaving a chaste kiss there. as you did that you felt his hands squeeze your ass over your jeans. god they were huge. but he quickly stopped himself. “it’s alright alex, i like it”. he was so nervous, you felt it.

you also felt him starting to get hard under you as you kept leaving wet kisses on his neck and playing the hair at the back of his head. you bit down on the sensitive skin, not too hard, just a bit, you were getting horny as well. his hips bucked at that and he immediately raised his hands to his face to cover up.

“sorry, fuck, i didn’t mean to do that, ‘m so sorry”. you put your hands over his own and pushed them to the sides to reveal his face. he was so red, his lips puffy and shiny from the remnants of the lipgloss you were wearing. you probably looked just about the same.

“don’t be sorry. it’s okay”

you pushed yourself down on him, grinding slowly. the pressure from his erection digging through his jeans making the seam of your own rub against your pussy in just the perfect spot felt delicious. though you kinda wish you’d worn a skirt so you could feel him directly through your underwear.

your moment got interrupted when some guys walked into the room. you paid no attention to them, didn’t care who they were or the fact that they just walked in on you straddling alex’s lap. they were too drunk to remember it in the morning anyway.

you got up from his lap and put your hand out to help him up from the floor. you smirked to yourself when you saw how he tried so hard to cover his hard on.

“come on.” you said to him, leading him to the bathroom down the hall.

thank god it was free.

you pushed him inside the room and quickly locked the door behind you. maybe you were a bit too eager cause when you locked him in between your arms you made him hit his head against the door. nothing that couldn’t be fixed with another kiss, through which you could feel him smile. his lips felt so soft against your own, and he kissed you perfectly, not too much tongue, perfect. it’s like you fit together just right and this was meant to be, as cliché as it sounds.

you put one of your legs between his and raised it slightly, rubbing your thigh against his crotch, making a whimper find its way out from his mouth, going straight to your core.

“pretty boy makes pretty sounds as well” the moan he was about to let out was stopped however by you biting his bottom lip.

you slipped one of your hands in between your bodies to palm him over his jeans. he was rock hard at this point, his pants stretched to the limit.

“fuuuck y/n” the way he said your name, his voice trembling…god. you were soaked. you applied more pressure, squeezing his bulge. he was about to cum in his pants just then just from that so he stopped you, his voice all breathy and broken by his panting.

“wait, wait, please”

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing…it’s just that…uhmmm…” he was struggling to get his words out, not knowing how you would take what he was about to say.

“what is it? tell me” you didn’t know if he didn’t want to go through with it or what.

“it’s just…i’ve never…you know…”

really? alex turner, the guy in a band that the girls in school were all talking about? that wasn’t a turn off for you at all though, just made it even more exciting. you weren’t some sex guru either. you’d only been with one guy before.

he thought he ruined everything just then “fuck my life, i shouldn’t have said that” looking up, not having the courage to look you in the eye and see your reaction.

you wanted to reassure him so he wouldn’t go all shy on you, so you started playing with his hair again, he seemed to like that.

“what’s the furthest you’ve gone?” you asked, genuinely curious as to what he meant by ‘never’.

“well umm…this i guess, right now, us”

“that’s alright alex” you kissed him again, to show him you meant what you said. “do you want us to stop?”

“only if you want to stop” he was the sweetest thing ever.

“well, i don’t”

you kissed him again, for some reason knowing you would be the first to touch him was turning you on so much, you wanted to make this good for him. your kisses trailed down to his jaw, and lower, down his neck, and to his collarbone. when you got there he moaned. looks like you found his sweet spot. you stayed there and left a small love bite, hearing his sweet little noises as you did so. your hand went back to his raging erection, you could feel a slight wet patch already. he was so horny and on the edge he leaked through his jeans.

“can i go down on you?” you asked, your lips still against his skin, the hot breaths that escaped while you talked making him shiver.

“yes please”

‘please’. he’s got manners, this little one.

“you’re cute” you bet he’ll be even cuter with his cock in your mouth. soon enough.

he never had a chance to respond because you slipped your hand under the waistband of his jeans and palmed him again, this time over just his underwear, making him gasp out loud.

soaked. and big. he felt bigger than you’d expect from what he looked like. he had quite a small frame, guess all those other inches went somewhere else.

you got down on your knees and were about to unzip his jeans but you stopped for a sec when you felt his thighs trembling and noticed his hands were shaking. he had them against his stomach, lifting up his shirt slightly, not knowing what to do with them.

“everything okay alex?” you asked, looking up at him and you saw how he looked almost scared, his plump lips parted and his eyes wide watching you.

“just nervous” he mumbled.

“no need to be, i’ll make it good for you, i promise”

“i don’t doubt that” he giggled, making you giggle as well “it’s okay, you can…uhm…you can go on. if you want to, of course”

“i do alex, stop worrying about it” you reassured him, leaving a kiss on the side of the exposed skin of his lower belly, and then another one on the light trail of hair right down the centre leading down from his belly button, your breaths tickling him making another soft whimper escape his mouth.

you finally unzipped his jeans and pulled them down, followed by his underwear, which was stained by a big wet patch.

ginormous would be an understatement to describe him once his dick was free and you saw it all, in all its beauty. as the cold air hit it you saw it twitch. the head was poking, fat and throbbing from how hard he was, still oozing precum, almost dripping but you caught it as you wrapped your hand around him and spread the drops threatening to fall from his slit with your thumb, all over his tip and then down his length. he hissed as you stroked him and pulled at his skin with each of your downstrokes.

you didn’t even give that many blowjobs to your last boyfriend, it wasn’t that fun for you, but now? you had to have alex’s cock in your mouth right then and there.

you were nervous too, you weren’t an expert at this either but you wanted to make it good for him and the alcohol helped you get more confident.

you licked a stripe along the underside of his cock, from the bottom all the way to his tip, and he hissed once more as you wrapped your lips around him and started stimulating him with your tongue, circling it around his head, the salty taste spreading around your mouth. it took all the power he had in him to not cum instantly. you started bobbing your head up and down his cock, at the same time stroking him with one of your hands around the rest you couldn’t quite fit into your mouth just yet. you hollowed your cheeks and slowly started taking more of him. one of his hands found its way to your hair, not controlling your movements, more just looking for a place to steady himself. when you looked up at him you noticed his other other hand went to his mouth and he was biting down on his fingers to stop himself from making too much noise. also to stop himself from coming too soon, not wanting to embarrass himself by lasting 2 seconds. but he couldn’t stop himself from pushing his hips forward, driving his cock deeper into you and hitting the back of your throat, making you instantly gag around him and you pulled back for air.

“i’m so sorry fuck did i hurt you?” you could see the pure panic on his face.

“you didn’t al” you continued to stroke him with your hand and rubbed his thigh softly with your other “you’re just very big, i need to get used to it, i’ve never had anyone this big”

“oh, okay, sorry” he was still a bit concerned.

you can’t help but smile, he was adorable.

“did you just apologise for having a big dick?” you snapped him out of his bubble, making him chuckle. “and let me hear all those noises you got please, i reckon no one’s sober enough to care out there, music’s loud anyway”

“okay” he said but immediately turned into a groan as you took him back into your mouth.

his sounds only got louder and louder as you continued to suck him off, pretty moans and whimpers letting you know you’re doing good.

“fuckkk y/n i’m not gonna last long” as he said that you flattened your tongue, making more space for his thick cock to sink down your hole. your throat had time to get used to it by now, so you were gonna try your best to take him all. you prepared yourself by pulling off once more and taking a deep breath before going down on him again. you were about to gag once his tip brushed the back of your throat but you continued to breathe through your nose until you got it all to sink in.

“oh fuck” he groaned, his voice strained. “that feels so g- good” he couldn’t even get his words out straight, you felt too good, all those new sensations he was experiencing for the first time lighting his whole body on fire. he could feel his heart beating erratically and his breathing was all over the place.

meanwhile you just focused on your breathing, trying not to gag around him with his cock tickling your throat and the hair at the bottom of where your nose was touching him tickling you at the same time.

“i’m- gonna- fuck i’m gonna cum soon” he managed to get those words out before pulling you back by the hair so he wouldn’t shoot his load down your throat, not knowing if that would be okay with you.

manners. cute and considerate. he’s got it all , doesn’t he? oh, and a pretty dick.

“you can cum in my mouth if you want. do you want that?” you asked as you kept stroking him with your hand, not wanting to let the feeling get lost and ruin his quickly approaching orgasm. he just gave you a quiet ‘mhmm’. you wanted to push his limits a little bit.

“how bad do you want it?” you teased while flicking your tongue along his slit, making it even harder for him to say something.

“so bad ughhh please. please let me cum in your mouth.”

you took him in once more, tightly wrapping your lips around him and to push him even further you brought one of your hands and lightly squeezed his balls, pushing him over the edge instantly. his cum started shooting down your throat as you kept your eyes on him, wanting to see his face as he experienced his first orgasm from this, his first from something else other than his own fist.

he couldn’t make himself watch you in return, as much as he would’ve wanted to, he just couldn’t. it was too much, his head was thrown back, eyes rolling so far back only a sliver of white could be seen, and his mouth wide open but no sounds were leaving it, all getting stuck in his throat from the overwhelming pleasure he was feeling. it was so different from anything else he’s ever experienced, not just from the fact that it’s someone’s throat instead of a hand, but because it’s you out of all people, the girl he’s had a crush on for god knows how long was giving him his first blowjob.

he came so much, and it’s not that it tasted bad necessarily, it was better than what you’ve had before, but it was a lot and it was getting stuck in the back of your throat. you felt like you were going to gag if you didn’t pull back so you did, leaving the last few spurts to land on your lips and down your chin. you tried to swallow it but you couldn’t bring yourself to, it was tickling too much so you quickly turned to the toilet that was nearby and spit it out.

you turned back to him, barely holding himself up on his legs, his softening cock resting down one of his thighs. he took a few deep breaths to calm down and tucked himself back into his boxers. you helped him do up his jeans and before you had the chance to get up he got down next to you instead.

he wiped the rest of his cum that was left on your chin and wiped it down on his pants, they were messed up regardless so it didn’t matter anymore. he pressed his forehead against yours, his hair sweaty and sticking to you and he murmured a warm ‘thank you’ followed by a sweet kiss on your lips, and another one on your cheek, and another one, until it felt like he covered your entire face in his little sweet kisses and you scrunched up your face at his show of affection.

“you’re adorable alex” you giggled as you pressed a kiss to his nose as well.

“no, you are.” giving you one last kiss on your lips. “can i return the favour? you were amazing…i wanna make you feel good too. i mean uhm i don’t know what to do exactly but you could teach me.”

tempting.

but you decided against that right now, the sink wasn’t the type you could sit on and you weren’t too keen on laying down on those tiles, you knees were killing you from them.

“maybe another time?” you suggested.

“do you want another time?” he asked genuinely.

“yes, definitely” you said, getting your hands all up in his hair again, fixing the mess of a mop on top of his head for him.

“alright. i’m alone tomorrow night if you wanna come over.”

“eager now, aren’t we?” you joked “yeah, i’d like that, tomorrow.”

“tomorrow.”

a/n: i’m a whore for baby alex and basically everything i write is about sucking his dick lmao i think about it too much (way too much). hope you enjoy, it’s the expanded version of something i’ve had in my notes for months but i wrote half of it freezing my ass off at starbucks so soz if there are any typos.

[sophistired18]

Timeskip Kryk part 2! (Sorta?)

Here's some kryk hc's/random scenarios i have if they didn't make a move in highschool and remained pining idiots :)

One thing for sure, I think they would both know that there was something there, but ofc they never talked about it. Especially bc Yaku was going to Russia. Since they didn't do anything about their feelings earlier they both tried sweeping it under the rug and act like it never happened. And ofc that pining never really goes away, but the distance sorta helps. (Not really they miss each other so much)

Kuroo is going in as an intern for the Japan Volleyball Association and sends a photo of him in his new suit and asking if he looks okay for his first day. Yaku leaves it on seen. Kuroo dies inside bc does he actually look that bad?? It makes him panic alittle, although in the end he does very well on his first day, but he's still butt hurt by Yaku's lack of response. Only until the day after does Yaku respond "You look good" and "Sorry. I was busy". This makes Kuroo get mad but also ashamed at how happy it made him feel for Yaku complimenting him.

On the otherhand, Yaku cannot stop freaking out at how fucking good Kuroo looked in that suit. After a good 10 minutes of just gawking at a poorly taken selfie of his "I'm getting over him" crush, Yaku decides his heart cannot handle this today so he makes the hard choice of ghosting Kuroo so that he doesn't accidentally blurt how hot he thinks Kuroo looks. He feels bad but it was a necessary sacrifice to save himself from falling for him all over again. Although it's too late for that bc that image was ingrained into his mind all day.

Kuroo tries not to, but he stalks Yaku's insta page for "Volleyball Research purposes". Kai tries to remind him "You know that's your friend right? You can literally just ask him how he's doing instead of stalking his story to see if he's eaten dinner yet".

Kai, Kuroo, and Yaku are facetiming and Yaku mentions that his hair is getting long. Kuroo asks if he's gonna get a haircut, but deep down he's crying bc yaku looks so cute with his shaggy bangs, please don't chop them. A week later, Yaku posts on his story his new undercut and re-styled bangs that are swept back in the same way that Kuroo is swept off his feet the moment he sees them. Kuroo realizes it might be too late to get over his best friend bc how is he supposed to when this best friend looks THAT GOOD. He screenshots the photo and has failed many times to delete it.

Kuroo sends treats and trinkets from Japan to Yaku on his birthday, which makes Yaku super happy but also super homesick. And it also makes him feel a bit bad bc he only facetimed for Kuroo's birthday. He tells Kuroo he'll send a gift for the next birthday and Kuroo says he doesn't have to, but he does anyways. So now for every birthday for the past 8 years, they've been doing gift exhanges from Japan and Russia. Yaku likes to send treats he enjoys or thinks Kuroo would like, or he'll send something he hasn't tried yet so that they can both try it and review it together over facetime.

One weekend for a business trip, Kuroo meets a very pretty lady who matches what his type in women was when he was younger. She was interested in him and he thought why not, I'm a grown man I can go on dates. The entire time he was expecting it to go wrong or for her to disagree with him, yet none of that happened. The date actually went smooth, she even shared some interests with him. He was sure that she was exactly the kind of person that he would've wanted as a partner a few years ago. But after he walked her to the train station and wished her a safe trip, he immediately called Yaku on impulse. He told him how he went on a date, which Yaku responded asking how it went. Kuroo tells him it went absolutely smooth and that she seems to really likes him. And when Yaku asks "Do you like her?" Kuroo hesitates, "I think I do?". But he wasn't sure how to answer when Yaku says, "Then why do you sound so upset?". After a while in silence, Kuroo just sighs, "I guess we just got along too well. The entire night I suppose I was searching for something else. Something more." They end the call soon afterwards, in attempt to try not to let the implications of those words sink in.

Yaku flies down to Tokyo to visit family for a few days. Kuroo tries not to freak out. He hasn't seen Yaku in 3 years but it feels like its been a decade. He knew about Yaku's departure 3 weeks in advance, so he planned accordingly to find time to hang out with him, but nothing could've prepared him for all of a sudden 4 big meetings back to back all during the week Yaku would be staying, with one of the meetings, if his presentation went well, potentially granting him a promotion. Even then, he seriously considers calling in sick. Yaku tells him over the phone that he's an absolute idiot and he should not risk a promotion for this. He ends up not being able to see Yaku at all, bummed that he didn't even have the time to take Yaku to the airport. Although based on the photo taken from a lunch that Yaku and Kai had bc they were actually able to meet up, Kuroo thinks that maybe it's a blessing in disguise that he didn't see Yaku in person. Bc now he's certain that he would've folded right then. Bc if Yaku looked that good with udon broth all over his lips in a photo, then Kuroo might just die if he sees Yaku in front of him.

Yaku is at a bar celebrating with some of his teammates when Kuroo calls Yaku to wish him a merry Christmas. Yaku steps out the bar and they talk about nostalgic memories, which gets Yaku teary eyed and he's glad they're not facetiming rn bc one, Kuroo can't see how much of a sap he is rn, and two, if he sees Kuroo's face he might actually bawl. When Kuroo wishes him goodnight, Yaku enters the bar with his heart too full that it might just explode. He tries to stay cheery and hang with his teammates, but at some point he had a bit too much to drink, and he just begins crying. His teammates are shocked and keep asking him what's wrong, but then Yaku sobs, they don't know what to do because he's only speaking in Japanese. The day afterwards, Yaku wakes up with a horrible hangover with no recollection of his sob session at the bar. It's only until years later that its brought up again. It was when Kuroo visits Russia for the first time, Yaku introduces him to some of his teammates, with one of them giving Kuroo a confused look that Kuroo quotes as "a life threatening mafia glare" and "He looks like he wants to skin me". It's only until a few days later when Kuroo has returned to Japan and they are all having lunch where the teammate begins laughing and says Kuroo's name as if he had a revelation. This makes Yaku absolutely confused so he asks whats so funny. His teammate pulls out his phone and presses play on a recorded video and laughs "We never understood what you were saying, but I remember I kept hearing you cry 'Kuroo'. It's only now that I realized what 'Kuroo' meant." Yaku is mortified at the video of him sobbing, and his teammates begin poking at him to translate for them but Yaku only blushes so hard at his own cries in the video. He hopes that Kuroo will never see this video, otherwise it'd be the equivalent of Yaku professing his undying love and how much he is NOT over his highschool crush. Luckily, his teammates can't understand a word he is saying and unfortunately, he can't reach the phone from their hand in the air when he tries to delete the video due to their almost 2 ft height difference.

[thunderbunny24]

Second Chance at Love

I promise we are getting to more Lillard soon. The next part if fact. Just have to build all the stuff up so that things don't feel forced.

Part 3

            Buzz…buzz…buzz…buzz…Your phone rang out as it vibrated on your nightstand.  You grab the phone to turn off the alarm, rolling your eyes at the 6am time.  You take your CPAP off and hang it on your headboard.  Before you can even get yourself pushed up to sitting upright, your bedroom door opened and your daughter bounced in with a big smile on her face.

            “Good morning Mommy!”  Violet climbed up on your bed and crawled in your lap.

            “Morning baby.”  You give her a hug then rub your eyes, trying to wake up.  “How did you sleep?”

            “I slept so good.  I dreamed about Mr. Matthew being Shaggy a lot last night.”  Violet giggled.

            “Good deal sweetheart.”  You smiled and kissed the top of her head.  “Why don’t you go empty the dishwasher and start getting ready for school?  Megan is going to take you this morning.  I’ve got some new employees starting at the security office and don’t think I can get you to school and make it to Culver City by 8am.”  You lightly pushed your daughter out of bed, waved her off and picked up your phone to see what all had come in email and text wise during the night.  You clicked on the message you sent Matthew and went to add him to your contact list.  You looked at the picture of Violet and Matthew and smiled at how happy she was.  It is very obvious now that he was a father when you think about how he held her and talked to her.  You sighed to yourself wishing that was the type of father you had for her instead of the alcoholic, narcissist who gave up his parental right at the divorce.  It’s been four and half years and it still stings hearing that’s what he wanted to do.

            You shake your head and get out of bed to start getting ready for the day.  While you are in the shower, you heard your phone ding.  “Who is texting me this early?” you think as you continued your shower, in no rush to get out just to check your phone.  Once you are out of the shower, dried off, dressed with your hair up in a towel, you pick up your phone to check your messages.  You catch your breath when you realize it’s from Matthew.

Good morning!  Hope I’m not waking you up.  Wanted to say thank you for the picture and it was really nice meeting you yesterday.

            You stare at your phone and read the message over and over.  You didn’t expect to hear from him again and your heart raced as you try to figure out what to text back.

Good morning to you!  I get up fairly early so you didn’t wake me.  It was really nice to meet you too.  Violet couldn’t stop talking about you.

            You hit send then instantly rolled your eyes at how silly you think you sound.  You put the phone down and started to blow dry your hair.  Your phone dings again and you ignore it.  Once you finish blow drying, you run your straightener through it to smooth some wild spots then put on some light makeup.  Once you finished getting dressed and ready, you go down stairs to the kitchen and see a cup of coffee already made for you and Megan sitting at the bar.  “Thanks for the coffee.  I need it.”

            Megan put her phone down and smiled at you.  “I didn’t make it.  Violet did.”

            You take a sip and nod.  “I’ve trained her well.”  You both chuckled.  “Oh, can you checkout my schedule and find a Saturday soon to have one of Violet’s friends over for a playdate?  Something just here at the house.  And I’ll need the pool cleaned before that date.”

            “Yes ma’am.  Text me the parent’s info and I’ll get something set up for you.”  You nod and pull out your phone.  As you are sending Megan the info, your phone dinged again and showed a second message from Matthew.  You clicked on it.

Glad I didn’t wake you.  So…I was wondering if you’d like to get together for coffee or lunch or something.

I’m sorry if I’m being too forward.  Hope I didn’t scare you off.

            You felt embarrassed that you had ignored his first message and texted him back.

Sorry!  Mornings tend to be a little crazy around here.  It would be nice to get together sometime.

            “It would be nice…I’m an idiot.” You say as you pinched the bridge of your nose.

            “What did you say?”  Megan glanced up at you.

            “Just talking to myself.”  You shrug and shake your head.  You started to type another text, trying to sound less foolish when Matthew responded.

Do you have time today?  I know it’s short notice but thought it was worth a shot.

            You smiled to yourself then delete everything you had typed.  “Megan, other than my meeting this morning, there’s nothing else on my schedule, correct?”  You opened up your calendar app on your phone to check.

            Megan shook her head.  “No ma’am.  You said you wanted today to be a script reading day.  That’s all.”

            “Good deal.  Thank you!”  You looked at your phone not wanting to seem too eager to reply.  You start to type when Violet walked into the kitchen.

            “I’m ready to go to school.  I’ve emptied the dishwasher, got dressed, ate breakfast and made my lunch.”  Violet came over to hug you so you placed your phone on the counter.

            “You look beautiful kiddo.  I need to hit the road too.”  You pour your coffee into your travel mug, grab your phone and a granola bar and place both in your purse.  “I’ll see you after school sweetheart.  Love you!”

            “Love you too Mommy!”  Violet gave you one more hug then bounced out the door after Megan.  You grab your keys and get into your car.  You plug your phone into your charger then click back on Matthew’s text.

I’ve got a meeting in Culver City at 8am but I’m free after that.  Text me a time and address and I’ll see you then.

            You then sent a smiley face emoji causing you to instantly roll your eyes at yourself.  You hit the garage door opener, then put your Audi in reverse, mumbling to yourself how stupid you were.  You heard your phone ding, looked down at it and saw eleven am and a link to a restaurant.  Another text came through.

See you then.  😊

            You smiled then put your focus back on driving to your meeting.

[the-pinstriped-hood]

Changing Shadows

A Percy Jackson/Olympians AU blurb

The first time she came across him, he didn't even bat an eyelash at her. Paying her no mind and instead checking his chocolate brown locks in the reflection of the lake, like all of his vain brothers and sisters.

As was customary of a child of Aphrodite.

They were walking beings of gorgeous perfection. They had some of the campers hanging off their every word and wound around their perfectly manicured nails. Even though most were immune to their natural goddess given charm and could see them for the vain and self obsessed creatures they were.

Silently, Percy wished that Bo had continued to pay her no mind. Unfortunately that's not what her father had in mind.

It was a regularly sunny day at Camp Halfblood. Kids were climbing the rockwall, satyrs were playing their reed pipes for the strawberries, Mr. D and Chiron were playing Pinochle on the porch of the Big House.

Percy was enjoying the shade under a large tree. She preferred darkened areas when it was sunny. All that sun made her irritable and gave her a headache. The Halfblood girl watched as her friends Darrell and Max were sparring casually while Ellie was listening to Ava play her guitar outside.

The calm was shattered however when a massive BARK! was heard. Heads shot up and activities ceased. More noises, the screams of wooded niyads and forest spirits ran out of the forest followed by a large hellhound from Hades that had bounded out of the woods. Fire drooling from its maw, trails of fire left in its wake with every step of its massive lion sized paws. This creature smelled like fresh dirt and corpses. A skeleton lazily had gotten caught on the spiked leather collar hanging around its large furry neck.

Kids yelled for archers and the Ares cabin took up their arms. The large shaggy hellbeast began charging straight at Darrell only to leap over the blonde and keep going, paws churning up soil.

Right for Percy.

The dark haired girl stood up, transfixed at the beast headed straight for her, unable to hear her campmates scream at her to get out of the way.

"BUBBAS?!" She asked incredulously.

The Newfoundland looking Hellhound charged at the poor girl, tackling her, Percy writhed and shrieked under the large mass of Raven colored fur. Darrell stopped short when that shrieking turned to laughter.

"Bubba! It's you! It's really you!!"

The Ares boy watched as the monster licked her face, the crowd growing around her and the canine. Chiron making his way to the middle. "Percy are you alright?" The centaur asked, his front legs kneeling.

The girl sat up, her glasses askew, hair messed up and face covered in dog saliva. A large smile split the little girl's face like Darrell had never seen on her.

"Bubba is my friend! I've known him since he was just a puppy. He was only a stray but everywhere I went he found me again and now he's here! He's gotten so big! Where'd you come from boy? Must've been awful far..."

Chiron grimaced, he and Darrell shared a worried glance.

"Sissy," the southerner took a knee. "You said this dog's been followin' you?"

Percy nodded, arms wrapping around the Hellhound's large furry neck as it panted, tail wagging.

"I don't know why, I just took a liking to him and he likes me. He was the only friend I've had. Is there something wrong, Chiron?"

The crowd's eyes fixed on something just shimmering above Percy's head: a Greek key. The symbol of Hades.

The entire camp knelt as Bubba nosed the young girl to her feet.

"Hail Persephone Jones, Daughter of Hades, Lord of the Underworld, The Silent One."

@rottent33th @slaasherslut @devil-doll13 @bluecoolr-main @ajarofpickledtears @shonkgobonk @soupbabe @slasherscrybaby @solmints-messyocdiary @ahmnom @probably-a-plant-thing @damien-mlm @kalid-raven @angxlslasher @allthingsblood

[ejzah]

A/N: Back again after far too long. Hope it’s worthwhile for anon who inquired about this story recently.

***

One Wrong Move, Part 3

Deeks paced, silently counting the steps from one side of his room to other. By now, he had the exact number memorized, and the monotonous activity no longer kept his mind distracted enough to keep out his worries.

As far as hospital rooms went, it wasn’t terrible; it was larger than usual, and had suspiciously comfy chairs. The walls comprised mostly of glass and large hazard sign that covered the door, destroyed any question of why we was here. Although blinds were drawn at the moment, Deeks knew that could change if his status deteriorated.

Fortunately, the hospital staff let him keep his street clothes, for now, which helped with the illusion of normalcy just the tiniest bit. The port in the back of his hand for quick access to blood and administration of medication, not so much.

Every minute felt like a horrific countdown to an inevitably unpleasant end.

The door slid open behind him with a whoosh and he turned around, expecting another doctor or nurse to check his blood pressure, temperature. Instead, he found Kensi hesitating in the doorway.

They’d only been apart for a couple hours while she updated the rest of the team, but his relief at seeing her was instantaneous. “Kensi. Are you sure you should be in here?” As happy as he was to see her, he couldn’t increase her exposure.

“Yes, baby, it’s ok,” Kensi assured him, coming into the room so the door slid closed again with a definitive click, closing them on together. “The same precautions as before.”

“I guess that’s good. What’s going on with Fadel?” he asked, more for something to say than because he was actually curious.

“Sam and Callen took his statement; he confessed to everything. Now he’s receiving treatment under armed guard.” She paused, and Deeks wondered if she was thinking about the likelihood that Fadel Ali would actually make it. “Everyone sends their thoughts by the way.”

Kensi smiled softly. “Nell said you better get back fast because Velma needs her Shaggy.”

Deeks managed a grim smile.

“For sure.”

“And Sam threatened to kick you ass if you even think of getting sick.”

He actually chuckled at that, nodding at the predictability of Sam using threats as encouragement.

“Now that is, uh, truly terrifying.”

Kensi nodded, her lower lip trembling. It broke his heart to watch her struggle and not be able to do anything about it. Pulling in a breath, she regained some control, though any signs of forced humor were gone.

“How are you doing? I mean, really?” she asked softly.

“So far I’m ok. They have me on this experimental antibody treatment,” he explained, shrugging. “Apparently it’s still in the testing phases, but the military has access and I signed off on using it. So I guess that’s awesome.” He looked downward, not really seeing. “Otherwise, it’s just an agonizing wait until something happens.”

“Deeks,” Kensi whispered unevenly.

“I wish I could touch you so bad,” he admitted, lifting his head. The three yards between them might have been an endless gulf.

“Maybe there’s a way.” Kensi walked across the room, and grabbed a couple sets of latex gloves. She pulled a pair on, handing the other to Deeks. “One of the doctors said this was alright until—for now.”

Deeks stayed still, a glove dangling from his hand.

“I know it’s not the same, but I guess it’s the next best thing,” Kensi said, soundly oddly shy. Slowly, she lifted her hand, taking what felt lie, an eternity to cup his cheek. When she made contact, he closed his eyes.

No, it wasn’t anything like actually feeling Kensi’s skin on his, but it was better than nothing. Sighing deeply, he leaned into her touch. He tugged on a glove, struggling in his eagerness to get it on, and reached out until he found her cheek.

“Thank you,” he murmured. They stayed that way for a few minutes without speaking, just basing on each other’s presence.

“Deeks,” Kensi said suddenly, her voice rising on his name with enough alarm that he opened his eyes. “You feel really warm.”

***

A/N: I know that there’s all kind of reasons why Kensi wouldn’t be allowed to hang out with Deeks without more PPE and they wouldn’t be allowed to touch, but we’re ignoring that, ok?

As far as the medication I mentioned, it’s an actual treatment for Ebola, but was not approved until 2020. I figure it wouldn’t be totally outlandish to think the military would have access.

[xoteajays]

I should eventually have conversations with you privately, instead of constantly spamming you messages through your inbox like this...

Yeah.. I don't know how dark, evil, or deranged Nijiro could be with his characters. I know Chishiya was deranged in ways, but he was known to outsmart his enemies rather than kill them. Not including Niragi.

But I am curious if Nijiro could pull that off for any character though.

This is why I get upset with live adaptions. I know, I know. Maybe I'm one to complain too much about details.. But this is why I do get way too upset over live adaptions. I'm nitpicky to the tiniest detail there is.

Dori as Niragi had an intimidating appearance. Tall, unusual clothing, body modifications. But also sadomasochistic in ways where he does not care about anyone and anything. When I think of the personalities of Niragi and Baji.. Baji is violent whenever he wants to be to whoever to harm, which made me think of the other character to some extent. But they're both intelligent too. Maybe mischievous in darker ways.

Like it was mentioned before. Mikey said that Baji would have set a car on fire because he was hungry, or angry, or any emotion like that. Is that weird that I could see Niragi doing that too? Maybe that's me.

Well.. I'm gonna spoil it anyway. No big spoilers! Naoto Kataoka, he is the actor of Jesse - who doesn't get introduced until the second H&L movie. When he has shaggy blond hair, I could imagine him as one of the characters in Tokyo Revengers. Maybe even as Chifuyu. Maybe.

That's why I get annoyed with live adaptions. On both sides to this whole spectrum.. Canonically stick to the characters ethnicity for the live adaptions. I get angry when they chance the gender, ethnicity, or even sexuality of characters. Like you just said. Tokyo Revengers cast of characters are predominantly Asian. With the occasional character who's mixed, like Emma and Izana. But then there are live adaptions to series like Black Butler and Fullmetal Alchemist where most of the characters are predominantly European, yet has an entire Asian cast. I'm nitpicky about it. This is just my opinion about live adations.

Everyone in High&Low deserves better. And now you know why a lot of these characters are the way they are.. Rocky respects women just because he was never able to help his mother and sister. I might be a bit biased. Rocky's one of my favorite characters. And Rocky's whole interaction with Kizzy. Koo's reaction to finding out Kizzy's trans.

But I also want to slap Rocky for being with that ugly woman who did keep referring to Kizzy as a man, even though Kizzy had operations - Rocky did mention that they Kizzy and Kaito went to American for all the operations to alter everything. Based on Rocky's hand gestures.

I'm neutral towards most of the Mighty Warriors group. I do like Ryu's character, even though he doesn't talk much. I like Jesse too. And I'm also fine with Ice to some extent. But at the same time, I feel like a lot of the Mighty Warriors group doesn't say much about their own pasts for you to be able to connect with them. Like.. Okay. We know they're mercenaries. They love music and fashion. And we know Sarah was a child who came from an abusive family, her father was abusive. But it doesn't really say much about the other characters that much, which, in my opinion, is a bit upsetting to me. I wish they had more story.

Unwanted trivia! The actress of Hikrai Kuina from Alice In Borderland, Aya Asahina, is married to Kenjiro Yamashita. An actor and musician. He portrays the character Dan in the High&Low franchise.

I don't know why I think that's funny. But I do think that.

mikey defo needs an actor that can do that dead/blank-eyed look. for those darker scenes like when he was beating kazutora to death during the bloody halloween or at the end of s2 when he was killing all his friends. chishiya was twisted, but definitely wasn’t as hands-on and dangerous as mikey is.

it’s weird because they said baji was like ‘violent and crazy’ but you don’t? really see it?? like yea he totally beat chifuyu to shit to join valhalla and yea he was a lil nuts during the bloody halloween, but no more than anyone else really. i was expecting a lot more insanity out of him for the build up of ‘baji once set a car on fire bc he was hungry’. let baji go crazy go stupid, like cmon.

ooh jesse does have a vibe. id maybe put him at like a second choice for chifuyu personally, i’ve gotten very attached to reo as chifuyu apparently ahsjdldjdl

i just finished the h&l movie and gee. cobra and yamato really like to solve a season/movie conflict with the power of friendship and fully bursting into tears. not judging, love that for them lmao.

i love kizzy and kaito so much. the little scene of those girls hitting on kaito and he’s just like ‘yea ive got a girlfriend’ and kizzy just coming in like ‘hey 😠 that’s my bf 😠😠’. kaito’s lil smile at her. they’re so cute. i need a webshorts series just about them. i need them to kiss.

i can’t believe that i keep seeing people say they went overseas to get married, it’s even on the fandom wiki. like what do they think rocky’s hand wave meant?? that was clearly a ‘kizzy got bottom surgery’ hand motion. also love koo. he’s great.

murayama got me in a chokehold. i adore him. love when men are a lil pathetic and unhinged. also i need to know how old todoroki is supposed to be bc the murayama x todoroki ship potential is there. there’s so much ship potential just across the board actually with like so many characters. also chiharu shut up and let my boy join sannoh! don’t be mean to him!! he’s baby!!!

the scenes of the whole of sword rolling in and them all fighting alongside each other was just. So Good. just aaaaa they’re all friends actually!!!

mighty warriors are just kinda boring to me tbh. like their theme song is cool. but they’re just kinda meh in comparison to the sword groups. if they had more backstory maybe i’d care a bit more but right now. nothin. bored of em. show me ryu and then get back to the people i actually care about.

[akumanie]

Thank you @maphy-art for this beautiful piece of art! Guys, this is a Red Cap named Wantnot. I absolutely love her! She is so precious!! 😭🥰❤️ She looks completly adorable and really scary at the same time. I adore her with my whole heart! She's from the fanfiction Elysian Key, written by Alice O'Really. Here's a little snippet from the story:

***

Red Caps are small, wild creatures with shaggy, fiery red hair. They have pointy teeth, unnaturally large eyes, and long fingers tipped with sharp claws. They live only in places where fresh blood can still be smelled and, from far away, they hiss warningly at any unwary, stray travellers: "Away! Mine!"

One day, in a hidden nest, a baby Red Cap was born. From the moment she had learned to speak, she could always be heard.

"I don’t want to hiss! I don’t want to have red hair! I don’t want to live where there's blood everywhere! I don't want to be a Red Cap!" she screamed from dusk till dawn. And so they started calling her Red Cap Wantnot.

Dear Wantnot slowly grew up and, more and more, she realised that she didn't want to be like the other Red Caps. She wished to be a Will-o'-Wisp. She wished to dance with them in the pale moonlight, giggling and singing to attract travellers, not to frighten them at first sight. But when she joined the Will-o'-Wisps, the translucent wild women scattered. Wantnot tried to call them back by starting to sing. However, instead of a pleasant melody, all that came out was a terrible hiss.

"I don't want to be a Red Cap!" Wantnot shouted throughout the forest.

But no one could help her. Wantnot spent her days alone, shunning the rest of her clan and sleeping only in places where no one ever died.

One day, she received some amazing news. A young wizard had entered their forest and he, being in possession of extraordinary magic, could turn a Red Cap into a Will-o'-Wisp. Wantnot went looking for him immediately, wandering through the forest for days until she came upon a beautiful place: a lovely meadow under a cliff, full of flowers. However, her large eyes saw more than others, and she could see a field filled with blood. Wantnot turned and ran away.

"I don't want to sleep here!"

She found another place, not as nice, but without the blood. She sat by the stream, dipping her tired feet in it when, suddenly, the bush next to her opened and a young man leaned down to the stream.

"It's you!" Wantnot exclaimed. "I’ve found you! Turn me into a Will-o'-Wisp. I don't want to be a Red Cap anymore!"

The wizard looked at her kindly, with wise eyes.

"Everyone has only one right place in the world. Are you sure yours is among the Will-o'-Wisps?"

"I know it." She nodded. "I don't want to be a Red Cap."

"All right," the magician agreed. "I'll change you. But it's a very complicated spell, and I'm tired. I'll rest and come back to you tomorrow morning."

He drank from the stream and went to find a safe place to sleep.

Wantnot couldn’t wait to see the morning. The sun finally rose, and Wantnot ran impatiently along the stream. But the wizard didn’t come. Wantnot waited till noon, and then she went looking for him. Red Caps have a great sense of smell, so she found his trail easily. She followed it to a meadow, where a menacing mantichora was devouring the remains of the dead wizard.

Little Red Cap cried. She cried for a very, very long time. She understood now that, if she had stayed asleep where the mantichora hunted, the wizard would have known how dangerous the meadow was. Wantnot finally understood how important it was for everyone to know their rightful place in life.

And so she remained there, in the beautiful meadow, living amongst the wizard's blood. And she hissed the loudest out of all the Red Caps at everyone who passed by.

"Away! Mine!"

***

[empresskylo]

𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | beth greene decides it's finally time for her to rebel like all the other teenagers her age and sneak into a bar. and maybe even hook up with an older man who can show her what it's like to feel good. (non-apocalypse au) 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | beth greene x daryl dixon 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut— unprotected sex, large age gap, reader still in high school but is eighteen, 𝐰𝐜 | 3.6 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | still on my bethyl bullshit all these years later, what can i say.

*•.¸♡masterlist *•.¸♡ao3 *•.¸♡twt

The cool breeze swept past Beth’s exposed legs as she made her way to the bar, her arm linked with her friend’s. 

Beth didn’t often rebel, she felt no need. But she was sick of everyone treating her like she was fragile or innocent. Like she was still a little kid. Her closest friend, Emma, convinced Beth to come out to the bar with her. 

“I don’t know… We’re not even twenty-one.”

“This is exactly why you need to come,” Emma said, rolling her eyes. “I have fake IDs dummy… Everyone I know has gone out drinking. I can’t believe you still haven't!”

And with that, Beth was set on going out with her friend. She wanted to prove everyone wrong. She was eighteen and freshly graduated. She was lost on what to do now, she never really had any perfect ideas for what to do after high school. All she wanted right now was to forget. 

And get laid. 

Yes, laid. Beth wasn’t a virgin, but she wished she was. Her last boyfriend, Jimmy, was nice and all, but he was inexperienced and didn’t seem to care if Beth was enjoying herself or not. She thought that if she went out to a bar, she’d find an older man, someone who could show her how it’s done, instead of the immature boys she’s been with. 

When she saw herself in the mirror of Emma’s bedroom, her tight skirt clinging to her hips, her shirt draped just the right way, she found a new wave of confidence. So she decided it was final. Beth was going to live as all teenagers did. She was going to sneak into a bar and hook up with an attractive older man. 

When they stepped foot into the noisy bar–their IDs working like a charm–Beth suddenly felt a bit nervous. Emma could sense her apprehension, “Come on. You jus’ need a drink!”

Beth nodded and followed her. 

After a few drinks, Beth found herself loosening up, and even dancing. 

She was busy swinging her hips to the beat of the song that was booming in her ears when she looked up and didn’t see Emma beside her anymore. She spotted Emma across the dance floor, flirting with some guy. Beth suddenly felt a bit awkward with her friend not dancing by her side. She took another swig of her drink and shuffled her way to one of the back tables. She wasn’t about to ruin this for Emma, but it wasn’t as fun when she was dancing all alone. 

Beth didn’t realize how much she had to drink until she tripped over the legs of one of the chairs. An arm reached out and caught her before she could fall onto her face. The man connected to the arm pulled her back and she bumped into his chest. Beth’s drink sloshed in the cup, spilling on her shirt, “Shit.”

“S’you alright?” The man who caught her asked. 

Beth looked up to a rugged-looking man with dark shaggy hair that hung around his face. He wore a deep blue flannel, a leather vest propped over it. 

“Yeah, sorry. Thanks for catching me.” 

He just grunted and walked away. Beth centered herself and stumbled into the bathroom to clean her shirt off. 

After being in there for far too long, Beth made her way back out, looking for her friend. When Beth couldn’t spot Emma, she slid her phone out of her pocket and checked her messages. 

Cute college guy invited me back to his place!! Can you find a ride home?

Beth sighed. Typical of Emma to ditch her like this. This is exactly why Beth didn’t go out. She should have stayed home. 

Yup. I’ll be fine! Have fun (;

Beth probably shouldn’t have been so nice, but she found it hard to be upfront sometimes. 

After grabbing an ice water from the bar, Beth decided she should leave. She downed her water and made her way to the exit. 

She stood out front, the warm air making contact with her face. She could still hear the thumping of the music behind her. She slid her phone out and saw a flashing low battery sign. 

“Perfect,” she said sarcastically. 

She went to call Maggie when a man came stumbling out behind her. He looked over and spotted Beth as she stood outside, the neon light from the bar’s sign lighting up her face.

“Hey, pretty lady. S’you here alone?” He slurred at her. 

Beth gulped, her mind sobering up. 

“No. I’m– I’m here with my friend. She’ll be right out.”

“I think you’re lying,” he said with a dark undertone. He kept making his way closer to her. Beth tried her best to back away but there was nowhere to go. The woods were behind her and the parking lot was dark. 

His hand reached out and brushed her arm, “You’re a cute lil’ thing, aren’t cha’?” 

Beth shook his grip off, “Please–” she pleaded. 

The man grinned, “I like when you beg.”

“Get away from her,” a husky voice shouted from behind them. 

Beth saw the man turn around, “Mind your damn business,” he spat back. 

Within moments, the man in the blue flannel from earlier connected his fist with the side of the other man’s face. He fell straight down: out cold. He must have been extremely intoxicated to go down so easily, Beth thought. 

Stunned, Beth looked up from her attacker on the ground, to the shaggy man in front of her. 

“Thanks…” she said breathlessly. 

He grunted, “You’re a real pain in the fuckin’ ass.” He turned around and began to walk away.

Taken aback by his comment, Beth followed him. “What’s your problem?”

He spoke to her as he walked without turning around, “Don’t enjoy spendin’ my Friday nights havin’ to help some dumb college bitch.”

Jeez, he certainly was blunt, Beth thought. 

“I didn’t ask for your help!” 

The man stopped and turned to her, “K’, then next time I’ll let ya handle it. Sure looked like you had everythin’ under control.”

Beth shook her head, she was over this. She had no idea why he even helped her if he was going to be such an ass about it. She turned around and walked back to the bar’s entrance and sat on the sidewalk, pulling her phone out again. 

The screen stayed black. “Shit.” Her phone was dead. And Emma had the money she brought. Maybe Beth could go back inside and ask to borrow someone’s phone. But since her last two encounters, Beth wasn’t feeling up to talking to any more strangers alone, especially given how many men were inside. 

A few minutes passed and Beth stood up, deciding to walk back. She certainly didn’t want to still be there when that man woke up. 

She made her way to the road. The streetlights were dim and didn’t give her much light to see the road which had woods on either side. 

Okay, Beth would admit it, she was starting to get scared. 

She took a deep breath and began walking. 

That’s when a red pickup truck pulled out of the parking lot and stopped beside her. “You walkin’ home?” It was blue flannel again. 

“What do you care?” She said without looking at him. 

He rolled his eyes, annoyed at her. Except she was right: What did he care for? She was no one to him. Yet, he still couldn’t get himself to drive away. 

“Get in.”

Beth looked over at him now, a bit shocked. “What?” 

“I’ll drive your ass home. Now get t’fuck in before I change my mind.” 

Beth knew she shouldn’t get into a truck with a man she didn’t know…at night…outside a bar. But she was going to anyway. She knew that he was a good man. Even with his crude remarks and bad attitude, Beth could see past that. He wouldn’t hurt her. She decided to trust her gut and walked around to the other side of the truck and slipped in. 

The soft rumble of a Led Zeppelin song played in through the stereo. The man stepped on the gas before Beth could even buckle herself. 

They drove silently for a few minutes until he turned to her, “Where do ya live?” 

The car smelt like fir trees and motor oil. It was nice, she thought. Beth explained to him where her farm was located and they went back to silence. Beth looked over to watch him, his elbow resting on the rolled-down window, one hand extended on the wheel. His face was dressed in shadows, his long hair messily framing his face, and a bit of scruff peppered his cheeks and chin. She liked the way he looked. 

“What?” He asked without looking at her. 

“What’s your name?” Beth asked, still staring at him.

He let out a frustrated sigh, acting annoyed by her question. “Daryl,” he begrudgingly got out. 

“I’m Beth. Beth Greene,” she said cheerfully. 

He ignored her, his eyes still locked on the empty road ahead of them. 

“So, Daryl… What were you doin’ at the bar?” She asked, trying to make conversation. But it proved difficult. 

Daryl scoffed, “What does anyone do at a bar.” 

“Get drunk?” She continued. 

“Get shitfaced, get laid, get into a fight. The only reasons anyone ever goes.” His southern drawl was heavy. It sounded nice to Beth. 

Right, Beth thought. 

Daryl finally peered over at her, “The fuck you askin’ me all this for?”

“I was just trying to be nice.” She crossed her arms over her chest, looking back out the window. 

Daryl’s gaze shifted back to the road, that small tingling came back again after seeing her pouting. He had got that feeling earlier when she barreled into his chest when he caught her. And when he spotted her walking in to the bar with her friend. 

“I can tell it’s all n’act,” she said. 

“What’re you talkin’ bout, girl?” 

“I can tell you’re a nice man. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have gotten in the truck with you. And you wouldn’t have offered me a ride.”

He didn’t answer. Beth looked at him smiling slightly now. They sat the rest of the way in silence, just the sounds of the wind and radio cutting through the air. 

Daryl parked at the end of the dirt road leading up to the farm–Beth didn’t want anyone seeing some random man dropping her off. 

She unbuckled herself and turned to Daryl, who sat, leaning slightly against the truck door, peering back at her. 

“Still wanna get laid?” She asked him sweetly. 

Daryl basically choked on his own spit. He coughed a few times, completely flabbergasted by Beth’s inquiry. 

“You outta your mind?” He spat, shaking his head. “How old are ya anyways?”

“Eighteen.” Her face was bright red and she could see the tips of his ears pinking as well. 

He just stared at her, dumbfounded. 

“Everyones asleep by now,” she said before hopping out of the truck. She watched him as she shut her door, then turned to walk up the road. 

Daryl should have just turned his truck around and drove on home. 

But he didn’t. Instead, he shut off his truck, sliding his keys in his pocket, and jumped out of his truck. His feet disobeyed him as he followed behind Beth. She turned her head to peek at him and giggled, a big smile on her face. Daryl’s face remained emotionless, his hands resting in his pocket as he walked. He wanted to punch himself in the face. Shout at himself for still walking. Sure, he was a shitty redneck, acting without remorse, but he didn’t want to take advantage of Beth. She was the one who brought it up, he argued. He made no inclinations to suggest that this is what he set out to do. It was all Beth.

Cutting through the argument he was having in his mind, Beth turned to him. “We have t’be quiet. Jus’ follow me.”

They entered the house, walking as quietly as possible as Beth led him to her room. 

He felt like a damn high schooler, sneaking around like this. Yet, he never changed his mind and turned around. 

She led him into her bedroom and shut the door, flicking one of her lamps on. He smirked. 

“What?” She asked him. 

“Nothin’. Just exactly as I was expectin’” he said, referring to the pink bedroom with frilly bed sheets and stuffed animals scattered about. 

She rolled her eyes. Beth turned around and went to plug her cell phone in and slip her shoes off. 

Daryl made his way fully into her room and poked around at her things. He spotted a diary on her desk and gave an airy laugh through his nose. When he looked back over at Beth, she had removed her shirt and skirt, leaving her in just a pink frilly bra and white laced panties. 

A red blush sparked across Daryl’s cheeks, causing Beth to do the same. He cleared his throat as they stood silently in her room. He took her in: her petite figure, the curve of her hips, the length of her legs. She walked towards him since he decided to stand still and Daryl kicked his boots off. 

“Beth, I–” He muttered, not even sure of what to say. She was almost touching him as she stepped close to his chest. Her hands extended and rested on his chest. This was all new to her. She had only ever been with boys who she had been in a relationship with. She pushed her nerves down her throat because she wanted this. Needed this. 

And apparently so did Daryl. 

“You can touch me,” she whispered. 

Daryl gulped, his eyes going dark as his rough hands immediately gripped Beth’s hips, pulling her into him. Beth’s body was pressed against him now. She looked up, meeting Daryl’s eyes as he looked down at her. Their noses brushed and he finally closed the gap between them. The kiss was a lot gentler than she was expecting. Daryl seemed to be full of surprises. His hand reached around to her bum and he gave it a slight squeeze. Beth moaned into his mouth, making Daryl’s pants tighten. 

He deepened the kiss, pushing her back so she fell onto the bed. Daryl ripped his shirt off, pushing his jeans down as quickly as he could. Beth's eyes were full of lust as she traced over his body. His muscles were defined and his skin was golden tan. His boxers were tight on his hips as the tent in them stretched them out. 

Beth’s face must have shifted because Daryl approached her, his fingers twirling her hair, “You don’t gotta do this if you don’t wanna.” 

She shook her head, looking up at him, “I wanna. I really wanna.” 

Daryl’s voice was softer than it had been back in the truck, “Jus’ tell me if you wanna stop.” Beth nodded. 

Daryl tilted her head up and placed a kiss on her lips again. He pushed her back so she laid flat on the bed. He kissed her stomach and all the way down to her hips. His scruff tickled her slightly and she giggled. Daryl slid a finger over her panties and slowly pulled them down her thighs. Beth remained still, a bit self-conscious all of a sudden. None of her boyfriends had ever gone down on her, so this was all new territory. Daryl pushed her thighs apart as he kneeled onto the floor. The cool air brushed against her and she gasped. 

“Gotta be quiet for me, k’?” Daryl’s deep voice said to her. She nodded impatiently. 

His hands hooked under her thighs and pulled her butt to the edge of the bed and he leaned in, his tongue connecting with her warmth. Beth immediately gasped, covering her mouth with her hand so she wasn’t too loud. Daryl smiled. His hand came over, sliding one finger into her heat, his tongue gently kissing her clit. Beth stifled a moan. 

Daryl used a second finger, now pumping them in and out of her. His lips wrapped around her bud as he sucked, making Beth groan into her hand. She squeezed her eyes shut as she let Daryl finger fuck her while he massaged his growing erection in his boxers.

She almost couldn’t handle it any longer as Daryl’s mouth worked at her, his fingers curling to hit her in just the right spots, the wetness making obscene noises as he worked. Then Daryl pulled away, cutting her off. 

She opened her eyes and frowned. She watched as Daryl slid his boxers off, his lips glistening with her juices. He reached towards her and made her arch her back as he unhooked her bra. She could feel Daryl’s hardened cock against her thigh as he kissed her again, making her taste herself. 

“Taste jus’ about as good as ya look.” 

Beth’s doe eyes were wide as she saw Daryl’s full body when he stepped away from her. He dug through his pants on the floor for a rubber. Beth propped herself on her elbows as she watched him put it on, her need growing with every passing moment. 

He was back at her in no time. His finger made its way down to her core again, sliding it along her entrance. Beth fell back against her bed, a breathless gasp escaping her lips. 

She was getting impatient. “Daryl, please–” 

And with that, he lined himself up with her and bottomed out. They both grunted in unison. His hands gripped her hips, admiring her chest. He leaned forward and closed his mouth around one of Beth’s pink nipples. His tongue teased her, leaving her nipples glistening. 

Her hips bucked up, wanting him to move. “Fiesty lil’ thing,” he mumbled, his hair falling onto her face as he pulled out then pushed back in. 

Beth’s hands gripped her sheets, moaning as she felt Daryl fill her up completely. 

“Beth, yer so fuckin’ tight,” he grunted, his voice low. 

He continued to pull out then slam back into her, trying his best to keep her bed from creaking. 

They both stifled their moans, small breathless grunts pooling out of his mouth as he tried to keep quiet. The sound of their bodies colliding echoed in the room, but Beth was sure no one could hear, as her room was the furthest down the hall. 

“Daryl, you feel so–Ugh–good!” She muttered, her brain foggy as she tried to form a sentence. 

Daryl felt his stomach flutter as he pumped in and out of her–her soft voice speaking his name sounded so right. 

“Keep doin’ that. Sayin’ my name,” he pleaded, his voice hoarse as he tried to speak without grunting. 

“Daryl,” she breathed. “Daryl, don’t stop,” her voice was barely above a whisper. “Daryl.” 

He couldn’t help but grunt as he slammed into her. He was growing dangerously close. 

Her hands wrapped around his biceps, holding on as he picked up his speed. His chest came down to hers, no longer having the strength to hold himself up. His hand slithered down to her bud, rubbing circles. “Beth– I don’t think–” 

“Me neither… Daryl–” Their words were barely coherent as they grew close. 

Beth moaned at full volume now. Daryl’s hand came up to cover her mouth, his cock finally spilling it’s fluid into the condom as he slowed down, his strokes deep and strong now. Beth moaned violently under Daryl’s hand, his own groans louder than before. Beth’s walls tightened, her legs shaking, making Daryl convulse as he continued to come with each stroke. 

After a few more deep pumps, Daryl collapsed on top of Beth, both of them breathless and dizzy. 

He slid out of her, removing the rubber and tossing it in the trash next to Beth’s desk. 

He came back to see a sweaty Beth, her hair sprawled out on the mattress, her cheeks a deep pink. 

Daryl turned and fell backward next to her, his hand resting on his stomach as he tried to catch his breath. 

Beth didn’t know sex could feel this good. She turned her head to look at him and he did the same. “How was it?” She asked him a bit timidly. 

He smirked, rolling his eyes slightly. “A lot better than I’d like t’admit.”

Beth smiled widely. Daryl caught himself wanting to smile back. He shook his head, sitting up. He searched for his clothes and began pulling them back on. He figured she’d want him out of here. Post-climax regret was typical in hook-ups, especially for women. 

“You’re leaving?” She asked. He finished pulling on his vest and turned to her. She sat on her bed in an oversized t-shirt now, her hair messy around her. God, he was kicking himself for being so dazed by her. 

“Need me t’sneak out the window?” He joked. Beth giggled. 

“Would you… I mean…Want to do this again?” She asked. Daryl felt starstruck as he looked at her. What on earth would a sweet little girl like Beth want to do with a grumpy asshole like Daryl? Sure, he thought she might be rebelling, she is at that age, and decided to sleep with some old guy from the bar to get back at her parents or some shit. But to want to see him again? To not be shoving him out the door at the end, wishing she never brought him home. 

His eyes locked with her blue ones. 

“I mean if you want to. I just thought… Well, I had a nice time, so if you did… Maybe you’d want to…” she awkwardly mumbled out. 

“Yeah,” He said. 

“Okay, cool,” Beth tried to say smoothly, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

Daryl felt another godforsaken smile creep up to his lips as he watched her in front of him.

Shit , he thought. He should not be falling for Beth Greene.

[skyward-children]

@zelinkweekofficial | Ao3

Light. 

Soft, gentle, amber light, brushing his face, washing his vision in gold. Tender and soothing, like her. 

Except that she was sealed inside the source of the light, locked away in a cage of sunset-colored crystal. 

Link’s chest felt heavy, like someone had bound it in thick ropes, had filled his lungs with water, had thrust a spear through his heart. The crystal was hard and cold beneath his palms and forehead, and within its icy depths was Zelda, arms at her sides, her golden hair cascading down her back, her gaze vacant.

I’m still your Zelda. 

Link sniffled back tears, lifting his head to look at her again. Just before the magic had lowered her eyelids in a deep, boundless sleep, Zelda had given him the softest of looks, her lips tilting upwards in a smile. 

And then she was gone. 

Link drew a long breath, slumping into a cross-legged position on the stony floor. The soft glow of the crystal washed over him, and he dug his fingers into his palms, his vision blurring again with tears. Forgotten were his bruises, his cuts, his still-healing ribs where a Stalfos had dealt him a bone-breaking blow.

All he could think of was her. 

For perhaps the thousandth time he wished that they were back on Skyloft, laughing and carefree, sprawled on the grass watching the clouds float by. Her bubbling giggle echoed in his ears, and he could almost hear her enthusiasm every time she said “good morning!” to him in the dining hall in the Academy. He could practically feel her hand pressing into his, warm and reassuring, a promise that they would never be apart. 

He felt himself almost smiling, until he looked up at her again and remembered that they were, in fact, apart, separated by a wall of golden crystal.

Link leaned his forehead against the crystal, his eyes closing as he remembered her words; the way her hair floated around her; the way tears clouded her eyes; the way she stood a few feet from him, carefully, as if she was afraid to touch him. 

As if she was afraid of him.

Link swallowed his tears, his fingers clenching. Was she? Was she afraid of him? He knew he had changed, but had he really changed that much? Had– 

He peered at his reflection in the crystal. Broader shoulders, a bloody cut across one cheek, a split and swollen lip, a black eye, gashes and scorch marks covering his tunic. His hair had grown even longer, forming a shaggy halo beneath his battered green cap. His gaze was fiercer, sadder, his face more grim. But he was still Link, wasn’t he? Surely he wasn’t all that different, right? 

His eyes widened as another thought occurred to him. Perhaps she hadn’t been afraid of him, but of their new barrier. She was the goddess, he was her chosen hero. They couldn’t go back to their old friendship after this, Link and Zelda of Skyloft, running around town together as everyone shook their heads and chuckled about the town's most iconic pair. They would never return to that, and they likely wouldn’t remain on Skyloft, and they–

They would never be the same. 

Anguish clogged in his throat, and Link pulled his knees up to his face and wept into them until he went hoarse. “Why?” he questioned aloud, his voice echoing in the stillness, brushing past the curling vines that clung to the walls. “Why me? Why us?” 

But there was no answer, only the sound of water trickling down stone. Drip, drip, drip, slosh. Dust drifted through the silent air. Link gulped in a long breath, wiping his eyes and pressing his palm against the crystal once again.

“I miss you, Zelda,” he whispered, a hot tear dripping down his face, burning his skin. “I wish it could just be us again.” 

He doubted she heard him, but he said it nonetheless. He wanted to scream it until his throat was raw and bleeding, but instead he blinked his eyes against the sting of tears and tried to steady his breathing. Zelda remained frozen, and the room was still.

When Link finally stood, his muscles cramped and his nose stuffy, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the crystal, right above where Zelda’s mouth was.

“I love you,” he breathed against the honey-colored cage, his legs shaking beneath him, his head pounding with suppressed tears.  

Zelda’s expression didn’t change, but her eyelids fluttered, ever so slightly.

Link smiled sadly, rubbing his sleeve across his eyes and checking that his sword and shield were secure on his back. He stepped past a cluster of vines and walked towards the ornate double doors of the room that led into the main chamber of the temple. Impa was probably waiting for him to return, and there were too many things he had to accomplish.

He paused, his fingers brushing the rusted handle of one of the doors, and cast a final look over his shoulder at Zelda, locked away from the world in a valiant attempt to hold back the evil.

“Goodbye,” he said to the silence. 

The door swung shut, leaving Zelda alone in her cage of crystal. 

[timelesslords]

prompts: could you write an in canon verse (so like gods and stuff are real) fic with amnesia? it could be post TLO or it could be one of them coming out of anesthesia and feeling wonky. i just love a good memory loss fic.

@halfbloodcarrie was instrumental in making this happen!!! Her adorable fluffy idea was completely paid dust in favor of making this angsty as hell but I blame her for me getting it done at all <3

read on AO3

Everything was dark. And everything hurt. His head especially was throbbing, but he couldn’t make out any other feeling. He could hear something; vague at first, just a ringing. But if he struggled, and he did, he could start to make out faint voices. His eyes refused to open, they wouldn’t even blink, but the noises were getting clearer by the second.

“What if he doesn’t wake up?” a worried voice asked. Something about it felt familiar, but he couldn’t even pry his eyes open, much less figure out who it belonged to.

“He’ll wake up,” a second voice said, male this time. He sounded confident, assured. At least he thought so.

“There was so much blood, I thought… gods.”

The first voice again, though this time it wavered. It sounded scared, terrified even.

“He’ll be alright, Annabeth. He’s got a thick skull.”

That made the first voice laugh, watery as it was.

“Don’t I know it.”

Some feeling was starting to return to his limbs, slowly but surely. He tried blinking again, but it felt sluggish, slow. Suddenly he realized he could feel his arms and fingers, and there was a hand in his, gripping it so tightly it was a wonder he hadn’t felt it before.

“Percy?” the female voice asked, hopeful. He groaned. His head was pounding like nothing he’d ever felt before. Actually, he wasn’t sure if that was true, because he couldn’t remember his head pounding before, ever.

Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember anything at all.

He blinked again, this time managing to pry his eyelids open a fraction of a degree. The light streaming in hurt like a bitch, and he groaned again, closing his eyes.

“Percy,” the first voice said again, more frantically, “Can you hear me?”

She seemed to be talking to him, though he wasn’t quite sure. He couldn’t remember his name, but she’d said Percy twice, so that had to be it, didn’t it?

He tried to say something to the girl, but it came out as a strangled groan of pain.

“Will,” she said, a little desperately.

“He’s maxed out, Annabeth, I’m sorry,” the other voice said.

The girl (Annabeth?) muttered something under her breath in-- was that Greek? And how did he know that? More determined than ever, Percy blinked again, this time managing to crack his eyelids open and keep them that way.

His vision was blurry, but a few more blinks and the vague shapes in front of him started to sharpen into focus.

“Percy?” the girl said again. Percy squinted, trying to focus on her.

The first thing he noticed was that she was-- well, pretty didn’t quite describe it. She was seriously beautiful. Her eyes were a dark grey color, currently wide with concern, her hair framing her face in cascades of golden curls. Her nose was small and button shaped, dotted with freckles.

Even if Percy didn’t currently feel like a small blacksmith’s forge was hammering on the inside of his skull, he was pretty sure he would’ve been rendered pretty speechless.

“Hey there, sleepyhead. You were out for a while,” she said, smiling. She did look relieved, but Percy didn’t miss the genuine worry behind her eyes either, the little waver along her lips trying to maintain an upbeat expression.

“I… what’s going on?” Percy asked. Annabeth bit her lip, looking over her shoulder. Percy glanced upwards, properly seeing the other person in the room for the first time. He was a teenager, with shaggy blonde hair a shade or two lighter than the girl’s. He was wearing a white lab coat over what looked to be an orange t-shirt and jeans, which didn’t exactly instill Percy with a lot of confidence in whatever medical care he was receiving.

Of course, the fact that he had no memory didn’t help matters.

“You sort of got hit in the head,” Annabeth said, wincing as she did.

“Really hard,” the boy added.

Percy reached up tentatively, to the place where it felt like his skull was splitting inside out. Instead of skin he felt something else, some thick sort of fabric.

“Ow,” he said, a little unhelpfully. The girl smiled again-- crap, how was she even more beautiful when she smiled?-- but it still had an edge of sadness to it.

“Yeah. Discus accident,” she said.

“Discus accident?” Percy asked, confused.

“Yeah. Those stone frisbee things, remember?” the other guy said.

“No,” Percy said, pushing himself into a sitting position. It made his head throb, but he couldn’t stand lying down anymore. “I don’t-- I don’t remember anything.”

“You mean-- you mean you don’t remember the accident,” Annabeth said, a little forcefully. Her grey eyes flashed, and Percy didn’t quite recognize the expression, but something in his gut told him it was not good.

“No, I mean I don’t remember anything,” Percy repeated, figuring it was best to get it out of the way sooner or later, “I don’t know where I am or who you are or who I am.”

The girl took one very long look at him. He didn’t know what exactly he had said in particular that had triggered something in her, but the concern fell from her face in an instant. She dropped his hand, something sharp overtaking her expression.

“You’re such an ass sometimes,” she said. Her voice was a little thick, but Percy couldn’t tell if she was crying, because in the next second she stood and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Inadvertently, Percy felt a twinge of something sad in his chest, though he couldn’t quite place why. He didn’t know Annabeth, but she clearly seemed to know him, and what he’d said had clearly set her off.

All of this was really not improving his headache, which had resumed its throbbing with reckless abandon.

“I didn’t mean to…” Percy trailed off. To what? Upset her? Make her run away? But all he’d done was tell the honest truth-- he couldn’t remember shit. The guy was giving him a look that was bordering on disgust.

“Dude, that’s really not funny,” he said. He sounded pissed, though if Percy wasn’t entirely mistaken, there was a hint of fear behind his bright blue eyes.

“I’m not trying to be funny, I literally don’t know what’s going on,” Percy said, starting to feel a little frantic. Why was everyone here acting like they knew him? And why did he not even know him? He felt nerves and something else tugging in his gut, an insistent, terrifying pull--

Without warning, the glass next to his bed shattered, spraying water and glass everywhere. Percy flinched away from the table, whirling around to look at the boy. His eyes were wide and surprised.

“What the fuck was that?” Percy asked, alarmed.

“That was… you,” the boy said, staring at Percy like he had just grown a second head, “Styx, you’re not making this up, are you?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t know what’s going on for you to believe me?” Percy said, still staring wide-eyed at the place where the cup had shattered. For his own sanity, he decided to ignore the boy’s declaration that he had caused it.

“Four, apparently,” the boy said, rubbing his forehead like he could feel a headache coming on, “Unless you want to make it five for good measure?”

“I have absolutely no memory,” Percy repeated.

“Great. This is just-- this is awesome,” the boy said, sighing heavily.

“Yeah, I’m having so much fun over here,” Percy said dryly.

“Right, sorry,” the boy said, wincing, “Your name is Percy.”

So Percy had guessed that correctly. Good to know.

“My name is Will,” the boy continued, oblivious to Percy’s thoughts, “The girl was--”

“Annabeth,” Percy finished. Will perked up, hopeful, but Percy shook his head.

“I heard you say her name,” Percy explained. Will deflated.

“Oh, right,” he said. He sounded inordinately disappointed, way more disappointed than he’d been when Percy hadn’t remembered him.

“How exactly did this happen?” Percy asked, doing his best not to rub his forehead again. Will sighed.

“Some newbies were messing around with the discuses on the strawberry fields-- which is stupidly dangerous, by the way, we have an arena for a reason-- but it went a little off course and almost hit Annabeth in the face. You shoved her out of the way but it clipped your forehead pretty good.”

Percy tried to process all that, piece by piece. He didn’t know what a newbie was, and apparently wherever this place was had strawberry fields that he and Annabeth had been in together? But the strangest thing of all was that Percy didn’t feel at all surprised that he’d gotten injured trying to get Annabeth out of the way. That piece felt strangely right to him, even if everything else was messy and confusing.

“So me and Annabeth are friends, then?” he asked. Will gave him a strange look, his face paling slightly.

“You guys… you’re close. Really close.”

Percy nodded. That made sense. He didn’t know why Will was being weird about it, but he believed him regardless.

“She was mad at me,” Percy noted. At this, Will winced.

“Yeah. Memory loss… it's kind of a sore subject for her.”

“Why?” Percy asked. Maybe it was a little invasive, but this was all stuff he was supposed to know anyway, wasn’t it?

Will sighed, rubbing his face in his hands.

“Gods, I’m so not the person to be explaining this to you,” he said, “But a few years ago you sort of… disappeared. And you lost all your memories. Except you remembered her. But it was really, really tough on her, she had no idea if you were gonna know anything or not when she found you.”

Percy blinked, trying to take all that in. He had a feeling that was the hyper-condensed version of what had gone down, but it explained the situation well enough. Annabeth hadn’t considered the fact that he genuinely wouldn’t remember her, so she’d assumed it was a bad joke. Percy wished it was a bad joke, because he would give absolutely anything to remember more about her.

“Got it,” Percy said, trying not to frown, “So how did I get my memories back last time? Can we do that again?”

Will grimaced.

“I think last time you drank gorgon’s blood, but we’re fresh out of that.”

Percy stared at him, unsure if he was joking or not. He looked serious, but Percy didn’t want to press it. Clearly last time had been a different sort of deal.

“So what do we do? I can’t go around like this forever.”

“Well, hopefully it's just temporary. Your head injury, plus the mortal pain meds we gave you, plus the nectar--”

“The what?” Percy asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Will said, a little hurriedly. “The point is, your brain is processing a lot of stuff right now. My best guess is that it overloaded a bit, and the amnesia is a side effect. If that’s the case it should go away on its own eventually.”

“And if it’s not the case?” Percy asked, dreading the answer a little. As predicted, WIll grimaced again.

“It could be from the initial injury. In which case it would be… more permanent.”

Percy’s mouth went a little dry.

“Goodie.”

“It probably isn’t,” Will said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“So what do we do?” Percy asked again.

“You could try going to sleep. It might give your brain a chance to readjust, chill out a little. Or…”

Will trailed off, clearly unwilling to finish his thought.

“Or?” Percy prompted.

“Or we could try to jog your memory with stuff you might remember,” Will finished. Percy didn’t understand why this option seemed to be so unpleasant to Will, since it made the most sense to him. He felt disoriented as hell, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to calm his mind down enough to sleep anytime soon. Plus, he was pretty sure he’d been unconscious for a good long while.

“How long was I asleep just now?” Percy asked.

“A while,” Will admitted.

“So let’s try the other thing.”

Will swallowed heavily, his fingers gripping the sides of his white coat a little too tightly.

“Yeah. Okay,” he said, still not sounding happy about it at all, “I’ll-- ugh. Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

Percy did not move, mostly because he didn’t think he could get up from his bed if he tried. Being alone gave him the chance to observe the room he was in a little bit. It was small but clean, sort of a cross between a normal bedroom and a hospital unit. The walls were made of old looking hardwood, and if he craned his head back a little bit he could almost see out the window. It looked green out there, but it was kind of hard to tell.

Nothing about this place felt familiar, but that didn’t mean much, given nothing Percy had experienced since waking up felt familiar.

Nothing except for those few flashes of feeling he’d gotten about Annabeth, anyway.

Will was gone for a long time, a lot longer than Percy had been expecting. He couldn’t tell time very well and he didn’t see a clock anywhere, but it felt like Will had to have been gone at least half an hour, maybe more. Just when Percy was about to give up and try taking a nap, the door opened again. Will was there, but this time Annabeth was in tow too.

Percy tried not to read too hard into the fact that she didn’t look happy to be there. If he wasn’t mistaken, her eyes were puffy and red from crying, though now they were narrowed in barely constrained anger, her arms folded over her chest.

Will, for his part, looked extremely nervous. That didn’t give Percy a lot of hope about how this was going to go.

“It would probably work better if you could get up and walk around, but well…” he trailed off, but Percy knew exactly why that wasn’t possible. Just keeping his eyes open had been a struggle, and he was pretty sure if he tried to stand right now he was gonna black out.

“Yeah, sounds like a bad idea,” he agreed. Annabeth said nothing, just kept staring with her jaw clenched tight.

“I figured-- you know, you remembered Annabeth last time,” Will said, still sounding nervous, “And you guys have known each other for years, so if anything is going to jog your memory… well.”

“Okay,” Percy said, easily.

Annabeth remained silent.

“I’ll leave you guys alone,” Will said, looking like he absolutely couldn’t wait to get out of the room. He did a second later, slipping out the door and shutting it behind him.

Annabeth looked extraordinarily unhappy to be there. Any care that she had displayed for him when he first woke up was apparently gone. She said nothing as she looked at him with nothing but ice in her eyes.

He didn’t know why exactly she was so pissed-- it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember anything, and wouldn’t it be worse for him anyway? But she didn’t seem keen on speaking to him anytime soon, and Percy figured it was up to him to break the ice.

“So, um. Are you single?” Percy asked. It was dumb, sure, but he didn’t remember shit, and this girl was pretty and she seemed to care about him and well? Might as well shoot his shot.

Annabeth muttered something under her breath, something that sounded suspiciously like I’m going to kill you. Cool. Definitely did not make her hotter to him, not even a little bit.

“I’m not single,” she said, practically glaring at him.

“Got it. Sorry,” Percy said. For just a second her eyes ducked away, sadness replacing anger. But then she looked back up, and her previous expression was reinstated.

“Why don’t we just stick to you,” she said.

“Sure,” Percy said. He didn't want to make her mad again, because he had a feeling if that kept happening it would not end well for him. He wasn’t sure what could be worse than complete and total amnesia, but looking at Annabeth he was pretty sure she could think of something.

She took a deep breath, a little unsteadily.

“Your name is Percy,” she said, “I guess Will already told you that, though.”

Percy nodded. She moistened her lips, staring down at the ground.

“Okay. What else do you want to know?”

“Where are we?” Percy asked. It wasn’t his most urgent question, but it felt like a safer one to ask. Then again, from the look on Annabeth’s face, maybe that was a miscalculation. She was biting her lip, the anger in her expression softening slightly. It seemed to be replaced by something sad though, and Percy found he almost preferred the anger.

“It’s… a little hard to explain. But we’re at a camp. A summer camp. It’s-- it’s where we met.”

“Why are we here now?” Percy asked. Annabeth shrugged.

“We’re just visiting,” she said.

“Together?” Percy asked. She stared at him, swallowing heavily.

“Yeah. Together,” she said, though she was clearly unwilling to elaborate.

Okay then. Time for a new line of questioning. A safer line, one that hopefully wouldn’t put her on the verge of tears.

“What’s my favorite color?” he asked.

“Blue,” she said, instantly.

“Favorite food?”

“Anything blue,” she said, just as fast.

“I eat blue food?” Percy asked, confused. She smiled for the first time since he’d told her his memory was gone. It was small, but it still made his heart flutter.

“Yeah. It’s sort of an inside joke with you and your mom,” she said. The smile faded just as fast as it had come, but her answer had inadvertently given Percy more information than he’d expected.

“So I’m close to my mom?” Percy asked, unable to help it. Annabeth nodded again. She took a tentative step forward, sitting back down on the chair beside his bed.

“Who else?” he asked, without thinking. Annabeth frowned, a little confused.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean--” Percy started, realizing this might be a little too much too soon, but wanting to know so badly he couldn’t help but ask anyway, “I mean, who else am I close to?”

Annabeth didn’t answer for a long minute. She was looking down at the ground again, her hands gripping her own shoulders, arms shielding her chest. She seemed to be contemplating something, though what it was, Percy wasn’t sure.

Maybe he shouldn’t have asked that question. Maybe it was too personal-- with a start Percy realized that Annabeth was probably a pretty high priority for him, given the scant details he knew about their relationship, and him not knowing that intrinsically had to hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “Just forget it, tell me something else.”

She finally looked back up at him, though she still seemed upset and unsure.

“No, it’s fine,” she said, though she was clearly forcing her voice not to waver, “Like I said, you’re close to your mom, her name is Sally. You have a sister named Estelle and a brother named Tyson. And your best friend is--” she stumbled, but found herself again, “His name is Grover.”

Percy noticed that Annabeth’s own name was conspicuously absent from that list. Maybe he should keep his mouth shut, all things considered, but his curiosity got the best of him. He wanted to know this more than anything.

“What about you?” he asked, voice quiet.

It took her less time to answer than he expected, but she was still quiet for a minute.

“You asked me if I was single,” she said finally, eyes ducked down, a rosy blush growing in her cheeks, “And I said no because-- because we’re dating. We have been for a while.”

“Oh,” Percy said. He could feel his own face getting red, even though this was kind of great news-- or maybe not so great news, considering his stupid brain still couldn’t remember shit. But it still felt right, like a puzzle piece slotting into place. Of course he was dating her. That was just correct, an inalienable fact he felt dumb for not knowing, despite not knowing anything at all.

“Yeah,” she said, “But you don’t remember, so… so I don’t know anymore, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy said, and he felt it. He felt like an idiot, both for trying to flirt with her earlier, and for not putting the pieces together sooner. The hand holding probably should have given it away, at the very least.

To his surprise, Annabeth gave him a small smile, even though her eyes were a little red. She wiped them on her sleeve, clearly trying not to do it in an obvious way.

“Sorry, it’s just-- that’s so you,” she said, sniffling a little.

“What’s so me?” Percy asked. He felt stupid, oblivious, but she just smiled again, a touch wider this time.

“Apologizing for something that isn’t even your fault.”

“I really am sorry,” Percy said, and he felt worse with every word, “I want to remember, I do, it’s just-- all of it’s gone.”

“I know,” she said. She sounded defeated. “I guess it would be too much to ask for you to remember me twice, huh?”

She said it like a joke, but Percy could feel the real pain behind her words. He felt an ache in his chest, like a phantom pain he couldn’t quite place, something in him mirroring her own hurt. He wanted so badly to comfort her, but he didn’t know how.

Or maybe he did. His brain was a jumbled mess, but he did know the only things that had made him feel anything since he’d woken up had to do with her.

“I… I almost get flashes,” he admitted, glancing up at her again. She wasn’t quite meeting his eye, looking somewhere over his shoulder, but he continued anyway. “When you say or do things… It’s like my body knows what to feel but my mind doesn’t know why.”

She glanced up, her eyes finally meeting his own. They were still shining with tears, though not as intensely as before.

“Like how?” she asked, simply. Percy swallowed heavily, not exactly sure what to say. It was hard to describe, given he’d barely recognized his own feelings.

“Like… like when you left, before. I was upset but I didn’t know why. I didn’t know you but I knew… I knew that was supposed to hurt, somehow. And when Will told me about how I got hurt in the first place, how I was trying to keep the frisbee thing from hitting you-- that felt right, but I don’t know why.”

She had graduated to crying in earnest now, tears slipping out of the corner of her eyes and falling down her cheeks. Percy felt the inexplicable urge to reach out and brush them away, but he knew he couldn’t. And that hurt too for some reason, a hollow aching in his chest he couldn’t quite place even though the reason for it was standing right in front of him.

“And right now,” Percy continued, even though maybe he shouldn’t, “You’re upset and I just feel this urge to do something, and I can’t because I don’t know how.”

“Percy, please--” she said, still crying, her voice rough with tears. He didn’t know what she was begging for, but he couldn’t help his next words slipping out, like his tongue knew more what to do than his mind.

“I don’t know anything about me, but I know-- I know I love you. I can feel it. I’m not just saying it either, I swear I can feel it.”

“Percy,” she said again, her voice barely above a whisper this time.

“You have to help me, Annabeth. I don’t know what to do,” he said, and this time it was his turn for his voice to get thick, a lump in his throat obscuring his words.

“I--” she started, swallowing heavily, eyes welling with tears again, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Yes you do,” Percy said, and he was sure she did, something in him just knew, “You always do, don’t you?”

That felt right too, even if he couldn’t place why, but it seemed to mean more to her than to him. She stared at him, eyes wide and scared. She was so close now, close enough that he could see every freckle on her nose.

Annabeth looked so panicked that for a second a second, Percy thought she was going to hit him, but then she did the opposite. She leaned over and kissed him.

Her lips were soft and sweet, and she tasted like strawberries and salt. His lips seemed to know exactly what to do, moving against hers like they’d kiss her a thousand times-- and maybe they had. His hand moved, almost of its own accord to her hair, tangling in it, pulling her a fraction of an inch closer--

And then it hit him. The scent of her shampoo, lemony and sharp and familiar.

He gasped, not meaning to, but she pulled back, grey eyes wide.

“Percy?” she asked, hopeful even as she tried to hide it.

“Annabeth,” he said, trying not to panic as things started to float through his mind-- more than things, memories. Her face and her voice and her words, the feeling of her hand in his and her smile against his lips, it all started to flood back like it had never left.

“Are you--” she asked, her hands on his shoulders, gripping tight, too tight, but he didn’t even care.

“Annabeth,” he breathed, saying her name like a revelation, because it was, “You’re Annabeth Chase, you’re my girlfriend and an architect and you’re scared to death of spiders and you still sleep with a teddy bear--”

She cut him off at that last point, throwing her arms around him and hugging him harder than she ever had-- except for maybe that time she’d thought he was dead for two weeks and he’d crashed his own funeral. Percy hugged her back just as hard, because he actually remembered that.

It hadn’t all come back-- things were blurry, most things, actually. But Annabeth at least felt clear in his mind, a shining beacon welcoming the rest of his memories back. He was already starting to get a headache again, but he didn’t care. They would come back. And even if they didn’t-- he had her. That was enough.

She pulled back from her bone crushing embrace, keeping their faces so close their noses were almost touching. She seemed scared that if she pulled away he might too, even though he had no intention of doing so, physically or mentally.

“So you’re back? Really?” she asked, sounding scared to know the answer.

“Sort of,” Percy confirmed, wincing as he did. He really was starting to get a pounding headache. “I remember you. And bits and pieces of other things, but mostly you.”

Annabeth breathed a sigh of relief, closing her eyes for a long moment.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she whispered, her hands trailing up his neck, just barely scraping his hair.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he breathed. And he did know, now better than ever. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since he’d woken up without his memory, but he knew every minute of it had to have been hell for her.

Annabeth sighed, pulling back further, so he could see her whole face. Her eyes were still red from crying, and her cheeks were still flushed from their kiss. But he could see the barest traces of humor in her expression, a slight tug at the corner of her mouth where a smile was being repressed.

“What?” he asked, but she just shook her head.

“It’s nothing,” she said, but her smile had grown.

“Come on, I just had amnesia. You have to tell me.”

She laughed, a light tinkling sound. It was just on the edge of being hysterical, but she deserved it, after the day she’d been having.

“Fine. I was just thinking-- Hera couldn’t make you forget me but a glorified frisbee could?” Annabeth said.

“Hey, it was heavy!” Percy protested, but he couldn’t help but grin as he did. He would probably stay grinning for the rest of his life, actually.

“You’re such an idiot,” she breathed, pulling him into a hug again, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Percy said, hugging her back. And now he knew he did, in a permanent, tangible way.

There was still a lot missing, but he had the most important bits down. His name was Percy Jackson. He was twenty years old, and in college and a demigod, and lots of other things that would surely return with time.

And he loved Annabeth Chase more than anything in the world.

[mirrorballgf]

the neighbors, ii

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙉𝙀𝙄𝙂𝙃𝘽𝙊𝙍𝙎.

part ii. drinking games

summary: in which, !muggle fred weasley can’t stop playing the damn piano and Y/N has had enough of it.

type: fluff, series

love interest: fred weasley x !fem reader

disclaimers: third person pov, she/her pronouns, alchoal, swearing

"Wait, wait, so you're actually a musician? Like it's not a joke." Y/N snorted, the whiskey already burning in her veins.

"Ouch! That cuts deep Y/L/N. Yes, I am actually a musician." Fred laughed, his shaggy hair bouncing as he laughed. Instead of his usual pajamas, he was spotted in a old band tee that looked at little too baggy for his own good and a nice pair of jeans.

Y/N had only a minute to change and she switched her deer-print pants for a pair of washed jeans and a grandpa sweater.

"Then what the hell are you doing in London? Why not New York or San Fransisco, with all the other Jazz enthusiasts?" She asked, taking a small sip of the glass in front of her. She had never really been a fan of Whiskey but with Fred, it tasted different, so she didn't mind when he ordered another round for them.

"Eh, I have family here, it's easier this way." He said, his tone cutting into a hard-edged one. Y/N knew she better not press the matter further if she knew what was best for her.

"Yeah, I understand that. My family's still in America, I sort of moved here for business reasons as well." She informed him, eyes downcast on the table in front of them.

"Oh? And what is it you do? Wait! Let me guess, journalist, oh!—I have a better one, paparazzi! Is that why you knocked on my door? Damn, you really are a fan." Fred said his tone was playful and she could tell he was just naming jobs where you're paid to get into other's business.

"Uh-huh. You wish. No, I'm still in school for psychology. About a year left. . .?" She said thoughtfully.

Fred pondered this for a moment. “I never went to college, never did my brother, George. Mum almost went mad when she found out.”

Y/N could imagine a teenage Fred sheepishly telling his mom about the idea of a career in music. It brought a smile to her face. “Well, I’m glad you did. I enjoy listening to it.” She said slyly, hiding the compliment under a soft voice.

Fred seemed to have heard it though, his eyebrows raised in amusement and flicker of a smile appeared on his lips. “I’m glad you do.”

“Can I get you two lovebirds anything else?” The waiter asked, coming up to the table. She looked to be in her late twenties and had her blonde hair tied up in a tight ponytail.

Taken aback, the two alleged lovebirds began to stammer. “Uh, no, weren’t not.” Y/N started, “Can we just get the check?”

The waiter looked immediately embarrassed and fetched for the check quickly. “Oh! Yes, of course.”

Y/N watched as the woman’s ponytail swayed back and forth as she walked back into the staff only room.

𑁍ࠜೄ ･ﾟˊˎ

Y/N waited outside the pub, rocking back and forth on her heels. Fred had said to wait outside for him while he paid for the drinks.

After several moments in the bitting breeze, Fred appeared. His eyes darted around the parking lot to find Y/N’s. Once he spotted her, he jogged over with ease. “It’s freezing out here.” He said, pocketing a piece of paper as he spoke.

“I’ll get us a Taxi.” He announced after she didn’t reply. Her mind was still on that piece of paper. What the hell was that?

“Y/L/N, you coming?” Fred shouted, waving her over to the incoming Taxi.

She shook her head, “I’m alright. I think I’ll walk home! Thank you for the drinks though. It was a really nice time.”

He smiled up at her, “Hope we can do it again sometime, yeah?”

Y/N nodded, and watched as Fred squeezed his 6’3 self into the small Taxi. She laughed as he struggled to close the door with his hands and ended up using his legs.

Waving him goodbye, the Taxi road off, leaving a smoky trialed behind it.

Y/N wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol talking or maybe just the company, but she held her smile all the way home.

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Yes, Father (August Walker x Reader)

A/N: Hey folks. It has been a while. This piece has been sitting on my drive for over a month and I finally decided to post it. I hope you enjoy it. I based all the mass rites on my own experiences, even if it has been a while since I last went to church. 

Summary: AU! After much insisting, your fiancé convinces you to go to church with him and you find yourself strangely captivated by the priest celebrating the mass, which so happens to be your fiancé childhood friend.

Pairing: August x Reader

Genre: Smut; AU   

Wordcount: 2,9k

Warnings: smut (dirty talk and fingering); It’s worth noting that this is a seriously sacrilegious fic, so if you’re religious and think it might bother you or conflict with your faith, maybe it would be best not to read it.

You were never one to particularly care for going to church or anything like that. You weren’t raised in any faith and if it was up to you, your future children would be educated the same, but it was so important to your fiancé James.

He came from a feverous catholic family and he grew up going to church, Sunday morning mass, and being part of every possible event his church was involved in. He was ever an altar boy growing up and he hoped that he could continue the tradition with his own children.

And after a lot of cajoling on his part, you agreed to start attending mass on Sunday morning with him. He promised that the current priest presiding his church wasn’t one of those misogynist and full of prejudice old farts but actually a good old friend of his.

“I promise you’ll enjoy August’s sermon,” James assured as you combed the inexistent wrinkles on your plain, knee-length grey dress.

James insisted you were being too conservative with your attire choice. That it looked more like you were going to a job interview than mass, but you rather be safe than sorry. His parents would be there as well and for some reason, that made you even more nervous with this whole attending to church thing. As ridiculous as it might sound, a part of you was slightly afraid of busting into flames the second you stepped through the threshold of the building.  

“Honestly, it still surprises me that out of the two of us, August was the one that ended up with the collar and not me,” your fiancé declared with a chuckle as he parked the car and you two stepped out to see a considerable group of people, mostly women from the looks of it, quietly making their way inside. “He was such a ladies’ man.”

“Doesn’t seem like much have changed,” you commented as the two of you walked up the steps, making him chuckle and nod.

James’ parents were already waiting and after a quick greeting, you were all made the way inside, miraculously finding seats in the front pews, right in front of the altar. The ample ship of the church seemed to amplify the buzzing of conversation all around, but it all came to a halt at the first chord of the piano.

The silence was heavy and it seemed to you that if someone dropped a pin, it would be heard by the very heavens. Finally, the eerie melody started and you felt your heart beating to the tempo of the music as everyone rose and the procession started.

Front and center, leading the group was a young boy, no older than 12, carrying the processional cross. The dark, shaggy hair and green eyes reminded you of James and you could picture your fiancé in your mind’s eye performing the same task as a child and it brought a smile to your lips.

You watched as the group advanced in time the melody playing, some members of the congregation carrying images of saints and other holy objects and finally, closing the group, Him.

Father August was a tall man, broad shoulders and built like a bull, the white and green clerical robes barely disguising his bulky form. His dark hair was neatly combed, one stubborn curl falling over his left eye but he seemed unaware as he walked and murmured the words of the hymn under his breath, his ocean blue gaze never wavering from the altar. He would look like the picture of a Godsent angel if it wasn’t for the dark stubble covering his face and the abominable mustache that in anyone else would look ridiculous but on him was actually attractive.

Heat rose to your cheeks as you realized your treacherous thought and your gaze fell to your polished shoes. You were really thinking of a priest as attractive? How much of a sinner could you be? Ashamed by the betrayal of your mind, you didn’t dare to look up again, not until the velvet smooth voice of Father August asked all to be seated and the ceremony started.

You let his voice washed over you as mass progressed as expected, taking your cues of when to rise or sit from James, that remained next to you oblivious to your suffering. You barely listened to the gospel reading or the adoration too focused on tracking Father August’s every move despite your best attempts of ignoring the handsome man presiding the celebration.

Finally, the congregation was seated once more to listen to his sermon. You kept your eyes on your clasped hands as August took his place at the pulpit and started speaking. You didn’t hear a word said, only the calm, husky tone of his voice that seemed to set your very soul on fire if the wet warmth between your legs was any indication.

Despite your brave attempts to keep your mind clean, you couldn’t help but daydream of that very same voice whispering all sorts of sinful pleasures in your ear. Clearing your throat, you dared to look up, finding his blue gaze fixed on you as he spoke and that was enough to set your heart racing and lock the breath inside your lungs. It felt as if Father August could see deep inside you, all the unholy thoughts you had been entertaining during his sermon.

Finally, he ended his speech and another hymn began. The congregation started rising, taking their place in line for Eucharist.

“You’re coming?” James whispered, startling you.

“I shouldn’t,” you replied quietly, your eyes darting to the priest feeding the congregation the wafer.

“Come on,” James encouraged with a smile and a wink. “No one will know.��

You rose from your seat against your better judgment. Your brain was unable to reign in the dark desire that pushed you toward the priest. As you took your place in line right behind James, your heart was pounding and your nerves wrecked as each step brought you closer to Father August, until finally, you stood in front of him, under his piercing all-knowing blue gaze.

“The body of Christ,” he spoke, voice haunting as he presented the wafer and your whole body shook as you let your lips part in welcome, eyes focused on his as he set the wafer on your tongue.

There was something so intimate and arousing at been this close to Father August, to let his thick fingers brushing against your lips as he fed you, his eyes darkening and his nostrils flaring as if he could see and smell your sin. Time seemed to stand still for a few seconds as you two stared at each other.

It took the small cough from someone behind you to break you from your spell and you scurried away, shame bitter and acidic in your stomach, drying your mouth and throat as you forced yourself to swallow the wafer and move back to your seat, feeling the weight of your guilt as you waited for the mass to be finally over.

You had hoped to be free from the priest as soon as the proceedings were over but instead Father August remained at the door, exchanging polite words with the members of the congregation, and of course, James and his parents got in line to speak to the holy man.

“Amazing work as always, my dear,” you heard James’ mom, Magda, said as she kissed Father August’s cheek. “But when will you remove that awful thing from your face?”

“I don’t know, mom,” James interjected with a smirk, hugging his old friend. “I think it suits him, gives him a star quality. Of the porn variety.” James’ mom gasped in horror, while August just chuckled.

“You’re jealous because you never managed to grow a single hair in that baby face,” the priest joked back, completely unfazed by the teasing as his gaze set on you. “And who is this?”

“Oh! You haven’t met my fiancé, yet…”

You barely heard the rest of James’ words as he ushered you forward, presenting you to Father August and as his large hand enveloped yours in a warm touch, you could feel the flitting throb between your legs once again.

No man had such an effect on you before, and you wished you could run away, put as much distance between yourself and the temptation in the form of a man.

“So, what did you think?” James asked once the two of you were in the safety of the car, on the way to his parents’ house for Sunday lunch.

“I know it might not seem like it, but it wasn’t my first time in church, James.” Your words earned you a chuckle from him.

“I know, sweetheart. I meant of August.”

“Oh!” You could feel the heat returning to your face as you shifted on your seat, looking away from him. “He seemed nice and you’re right, his sermon was ok.”

“Is ok enough for you to consider coming along every Sunday from now on?”

The look in James’ eyes was pleading, like a little puppy dog that was kicked out of the moving truck. The look of a man that was used to get his way and he knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.

“I’ll think about it,” you conceded it as he pulled the car in the driveway, right behind his parents’.

It wasn’t like you could say no point-blank. Not without a good reason for it and saying you were lusting over his ordained childhood friend wasn’t exactly an option.

“That’s all I ask.”

James smiled brightly at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek before you two stepped out of the car just as a third vehicle pulled in the driveway, and the last person you wished to see got out.

August was donning a pair of black slacks and a black, long-sleeved dress shirt, the clerical collar being the only evidence of this man’s chosen career.

“I’m glad you could make it!” James greeted his friend cheerfully and August smirked.

“I wouldn’t miss this delicious…” he paused for just a second, his eyes flickering towards you, making you gulp and look away. “Meal for anything. Sister Agnes has many talents, bless her soul, but cooking isn’t one of them.”

James snorted, leading the way inside as August walked right beside you so close his arm brushed against yours, raising goosebumps on your skin as it tingled with the brief contact.

“Why don’t I help your mother?” you announced as soon as you crossed the threshold, trying to put as much distance between yourself and the priest as you could.

James didn’t protest. Instead, he led his friend into the sitting room and as you disappeared behind the kitchen door, you could almost feel the cold blue gaze of August on your ass, if that was even possible.

You managed to relax some as you helped Magda with the meal, chopping vegetables and stirring pots as the two of you talked about the upcoming wedding, only months away. You never thought you would be this excited about it, but you loved James with all your heart, and you couldn’t wait to become his wife.

The sound of the phone cut through your chatting and Magda’s face opened into a wide smile as she reached for her phone. It could only mean one thing: Her daughter Mary, who had been in a charity mission in Angola, was on the line.

“Go on,” you encouraged with a smile as you surveyed the kitchen. “I can manage everything.” She flashed you a grateful smile before scurrying off, phone already pressed to her ear.

You hummed to yourself as you worked, tasting the potato salad and adding a little more seasoning before your attention turned to the roast on the oven. You bent over to get a better look, smirking to yourself when you sensed someone standing right behind you, close enough you could feel the heat of his body,

Of course, you thought it was James. Who else would you expect? Instead, As you straightened up and glanced behind yourself, you were startled to find August there, browsing the pots over your shoulder. Too close for comfort.

“Father,” you croaked awkwardly, unable to really move without risking touching the man and that was the last thing you wanted. Your body was already heating up just by his mere presence. Anything else would be too dangerous.  

“Sorry for the intrusion, I wanted to give them some privacy to speak to Mary and I thought you could use some help.” His words were innocent enough but there was this edge in his voice… a sort of dark tone that made you doubt his intentions.

“That’s really thoughtful of you,” you managed, shimmying out of the way so you could move to the sink to start on the dishes. “But I got it covered.” The priest hummed in response and for a moment, a tense silence reigned between you two.

You were very aware of every sound, every motion of your body and his. You wished he would leave already or, against your better judgment, press closer, blanket your body with his, let those long, elegant fingers trace the skin of your thigh, inch under your skirt, and towards your throbbing cunt which was soaking your panties.

You let out a gasp, cutlery clattering loudly into the sink as your mind registered the filthy thoughts circling your brain. How could you? This was a man of God, for Christ’s sake, and a good friend of the man you loved.

“You know, James and I were always very close,” Father August spoke suddenly, making you start because once again he was standing right behind you, his hands resting on the marble of the sink in front of you. “We shared everything.” He whispered those words right in your ear.

One of his hands came to your stomach, not yet touching but close enough that you could almost feel it, the ghost of his fingers brushing the fabric of your dress, making your breath hitch and your body shake as it paused right at the edge of your skirt, hovering there so, so close…

“Please,” you whimpered, not sure if you were asking him to move away or touch you, even if your body was obviously aching for him.

Father August decided for you, dipping his fingers below the hem of your dress, tracing your thigh up until he found your center, the brush of his fingers featherlight against your drenched center.

“Dirty little slut,” he mocked, massaging your cunt and making you moan and rest against him. “I could tell all your filthy thoughts when you stood in front of me at the altar. Did you want to get on your knees and suck my cock in front of the entire church?”

“Yes, Father,” you whimpered, rocking against his light touch, desperate for more.

“In front of James?” he asked, pushing your panties aside and dipping one finger inside your hungry little slit that seemed to almost pull his digit in.

“Yes, Father.”

“Whore,” he clicked his tongue, fingering you roughly now, his middle finger buried almost to the third knuckle as the heel of his hand rubbed against your throbbing clit. The pad of his finger rubbing that sweet little spot, and all you could do was squeeze the sink and press your legs together around his wrist, keeping his hand trapped there.

“You better cum soon or James will find out exactly what kind of slut his fiancée is,” August taunted, his voice like smooth honey dripping against your ear as he rubbed his hard cock against your ass.

“Yes, Father,” you gasped, rocking between his hand and his erection, lost in the ecstasy of such filthy action. “I’m so, so close…”

“Do you want my cock, slut?” he asked, his other hand coming to your throat, squeezing just slightly and you nodded desperately as his motions sped up. “Want me to fuck that tight little pussy?”

“Yes, Father,” you gasped.

“You’re gonna come to the church on Wednesday. I don’t care what you tell James. Just be there.”

Even if you wanted, you couldn’t find in yourself to answer, your whole body going taut with pleasure as your orgasm washed over you. The sort of white-out ecstasy that blinded and deafened you to anything and everything around you with the exception of your body quivering and quaking and the gush of warmth soaking his hand, your thighs and dripping to the floor below.

“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing a soft, almost chaste kiss to your cheek.

Father August stepped away from you, hands in his pockets as you tried to recompose yourself just moments before the kitchen door opened and Magda walked in.

“Wednesday. Don’t forget,” he said, his smile, to anyone looking from the outside, was completely innocent but you caught the malice in his ice-cold eyes before he left.

“What’s on Wednesday?” Magda asked, checking the roast.

“Father August is just gonna help me with something,” you managed, brain still hazy with the aftershocks of your orgasm. “For James.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Magda grinned. “He’s such a good man, isn’t he? Our August. A true man of God.”

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat. If only she knew…

---

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[spvce-cowboy]

drivers license

francisco morales x f!reader - oneshot

rating: mature

3.1k words

warnings: drug/alcohol use, reader is a dealer, age gap, so much YEARNING!!!

summary: a surprise visit from an old friend

a/n: 100 follower celebration!! partially inspired by this post but also the fact that i have been sing-screaming “drivers license” for oh about four days straight now. thank you guys so so much for all the support so far ! 💕

**

A fist slamming against your front door wakes you from a dreamless sleep.

You push yourself off your mattress, blearily checking the time on your phone and cursing under your breath when you see that it’s almost 3am. You sit up all the way, blinking as you wait to see if what woke you up was something you’d imagined or if it were real.

It’s real. It starts again after a second, three sharp raps against the door, followed by some kind of muffled talking. Your heart rate picks up in your chest, you grab the baseball bat you have leaned against the wall as you reach your apartment door. Squeezing one eye shut, you look through the peephole.

The good thing is that it definitely isn’t the cops. You take a relieved breath, leaning away from the door.

The bad thing is that whoever is knocking is hunched on his knees, just outside of the peephole’s line of sight, so you have absolutely no idea who the fuck it is.

“Please open the door,” the man’s voice begs from the other side of the door. You’re about to yell at him to fuck off, but he interrupts you before you can even open your mouth. “Little flower, it’s me, please.”

The nickname makes your heart go to your throat. The bat in your hands falls to the floor.

You rub a hand over your eyes, huffing an exhale in a vague attempt to prevent your heart from ricocheting against your ribs. It doesn’t work. Because as soon as he says it, as soon as you realize who it is, it brings everything back with him.

A set of sturdy, tanned fingers cupped against the knuckles of your grandfather’s hand, the voice went low in a warm but respectful greeting. You didn’t realize how gnarled your old man’s hands had gotten until you had someone else’s to compare them to. You looked back down at the crumpled up dollar bills you’d just been handed, one of them still rolled. Turning to find your bag on the coatrack, you stuff the money in your back pocket.

“My little flower, this is a good one,” your grandfather told you with a small hum that signifies whatever he just said must be set in stone. You hear the sound of him heavily patting the hand cupped over his own in that way he does when he appreciates the presence of something. “He has a decent head on his shoulders, no?”

“Little flower?” You can hear the boyish smile in that all too familiar voice before you even turn back around. “That suits you well, I think. Florita. I like that.”

“Christ, Frankie, what are you doing here?” You rest your head against the doorframe, heart sinking in your chest. You don’t open the door, to protect him or yourself you don’t know.

“I need—”

“You’ve got a kid now, Frankie. I told you I’m not going to sell to you anymore.”

“Ever the moralist,” the bite to his words is so uncharacteristic you can’t help but flinch. He seems to realize this, too. His apology is nearly immediate. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You’re right. I… It’s not…”

You swallow, closing your eyes and wrapping your arms around yourself for some bare semblance of comfort. “Please go,” your voice is so quiet you’re not sure he can hear you through the layer of wood separating the two of you. “You’ll wake the neighbors.”

It’s quiet for a long time. Long enough that you nearly think he’s left. Long enough that you don’t know why you’re still standing at the door and not back in bed.

And Frankie says your name, voice cracking. Your actual name. It’s been so long since you’ve heard it come off his lips you can’t help sink into the door.

A held breath leaves you in a shuddering sigh. Your shaking hands open the door.

The man who spills onto the ground before you is a stranger, yet, heartbreakingly, just as he had been when you first met him. Messy hair, worn blue jeans, gray button-down stretching over the perfect expanse of his back. All that is missing this time around is that lazy smile, that easy, Hey, darling.

In a bar. Right when your grandfather started getting sick.

“Eighty,” you said without him having to continue his sentence beyond his syrupy greeting, eyes trained on the shelves of liquor in front of you instead of having to meet his gaze.

He copped an eighth, tucking the little baggie in a pocket on the inside of his jacket. You went back to your drink, angling your body away from him again and expecting him to return to his table of friends. But then the knuckles of his hand nudged the side of you elbow. He gestured to your beer, the neck of the bottle clasped between your thumb and the hook of your middle and index fingers.

“Lemme buy you your next one, yeah?” He had a hunched lean to his posture, in that way that men do when they want you to feel like you’re the only person in the room. You were mad that it worked. He extended a hand. “Frankie Morales.”

The truth of it was that the two of you became friends, after that. Nothing more. Regardless, it was too close for you to get to someone you dealt to, but you were so lonely at that point in your life—taking care of the old man by day, GED classes at night--that meeting Frankie was a small blessing. Nothing ever happened between you two but God you wish it did.

To describe what you felt towards him as a crush didn’t really cut it, but you were fine with friends. Being completely fair, he was definitely one to send mixed signals—Christ, your weekly tradition of driving to an overlook to split an order of fries and milkshakes on the hood of his truck just about screamed every romcom you were raised on. But despite the occasional prolonged touch, the hand he would place on the small of your back to move you out of the way or guide you forward, nothing happened.

You dealt with it. Tried to be supportive as possible when he met his girl. Frankie broke the news that she was pregnant. The two of you saw each other less and less frequently. Sometimes he would call to catch up. Eventually, you stopped answering when he did. Your grandfather died. You got into a local art school.

It was sad how quietly it all faded. You didn’t know it could, but it did.

And now here he is, literally crumpled at your feet.

Frankie messily pulls himself up off the ground and onto his knees. He reeks of booze and old cigarettes. You freeze as his hands wrap over your hips, as he presses his face into your stomach and murmurs an incoherent apology—for what, you’re not exactly sure.

And when you finally processing what’s happening, what you had begged the universe for years, you can’t help yourself. Your card your fingers through his hair, gritting your teeth and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Frankie,” it’s a warning. It’s a reminder. “You’re drunk. You need to go home. Your girlfriend--”

“She left a week ago,” he speaks into the fabric covering your belly. The words burst forwards as if not even he was expecting to say them. It’s a confession. His hands flex from where they hold onto you. “She’s gone.” Your heart drops to your gut, your chest aching. “I need… Just for the night I… Little flower, the house is so empty.”

You keep petting back his hair until his breathing quiets. He keeps holding onto you, even then. The two of you stay like that for a long time.

“Why don’t,” your voice comes out too shaky. Too unsure of itself. You clear your throat and try again. “Why don’t you take a shower, I’ll get you some water and we can sober you up a bit. Okay?”

He tilts his face up at you. It’s the first time you’ve seen him in well over a year.

And he hasn’t changed. It’s all there—the soft mess of shaggy hair, dark but kind eyes, the beloved hook of his nose.

One sun-sick evening, you rode your bike to the beach just to get out of the apartment. You need somewhere to sit and think for a while, just until your head feels more clear. There’s enough of a chill in the air that you have to throw on a jacket, it’s nice. It’s like you can feel the wind moving through you. Past you.

When you arrived at the beach, you got off your bike, leaning it against your hip as you scoped out a spot to sit in the sand. You were about to wheel it over to the rack when--

Someone pinched your elbow in greeting. Their steps were so quiet you didn’t even register their approach. It, obviously, startled you, and your hand immediately flew to the keychain in your back pocket. The knife you had attached to it.

When you turned, and it was Frankie’s familiar face, his hands raised in joking surrender.

In that light, with the sun still flirting with the horizon, it rendered his face into shapes and shadows you had only previously seen in the old oil paintings of long-dead greats. You thought it was in the deep bourbon of his eyes, soft when illuminated by a tangerine sky. It was him. All of him. Slightly breathless, hair ruffled by the wind.

“Hey, hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he sounded genuinely apologetic. You released a relieved huff of air.

“Fucking Christ, Frankie. A little warning would be nice next time.”

“Did you bike the whole way here? From the apartment?” He asked, there was a tinge of concern to his voice.

You shrugged, trying to hide your embarrassment by lowering your kickstand with the heel of you boot. “It’s not that far.”

“Don’t you have a car?”

“Can’t drive,” you wrinkle your nose. “Never needed to.”

He looked you for a moment, if you didn’t know any better you’d say critically.

“I was just about to get something to eat, if you wanna join me,” he tucked his hands in his pockets as he spoke. “There’s this overlook nearby that has a way better view of all of this.” He motions to the ocean with the tilt of his head. “I can drive us there.”

You regarded him as he spoke, cautiously looking him up and down. And you nodded, smiling slightly. He smiled back, it was big and crooked. It made something in the pit of your belly feel warm.

You step away, holding out your hand to help him to his feet. He complies, stumbling slightly and rubbing his hand over his face as he does so. He disappears down the hall without having to ask where the bathroom is.

Sighing, you go back into your room, pulling out a shirt and a pair of oversized sweatpants for him to change into. You knock on the bathroom door on your way to the kitchen. The apartment’s walls are so thin you can hear the hiss of the shower from all the way down the hall.

“Come in,” Frankie’s voice barely rises above the sound.

You crack the door open, keeping your eyes trained to the floor as you place the folded clothes on the sink’s counter.

“Here’s something for you to change into,” you tell him. He thanks you, the shower turning off right as you close the door behind you. You walk back down the hall and into the living room, making two glasses of water before settling on your couch.

Once, after a night out, the two of you were too drunk and too broke to afford separate taxis home. He proposed going back to his house, split the cost, grab a cab for you once it wasn’t so late and the rates went down.

You agreed, as you did anytime he extended the offer to spend time there. There was something about the quiet, tucked-in nature of the suburbs that was so novel to you. So calming.

The two of you settled on the couch. Feeling bold, you lay your head in his lap and kicked your socked feet up on the opposite armrest as you describe to him the gallery opening you’d snuck into. How you successfully schmoozed to the owner as well as one of the artists.

He asked you if you had heard back from any of the scholarships you’d applied to. You hadn’t, but you’d only just submitted the applications, so it would be at least a few months wait.

You tell him your dreams of becoming an artist. A real one. He already knew that, but you really tell him this time, all the details you usually keep to yourself, too special to you to have the courage to voice aloud. The fantasy of moving out into the mountains, getting a cabin just big enough for a hotplate and a bed and a studio. You’ve lived and breathed LA for your entire life and you were tired of the city. Tired of every street corner baked with the memories of high school and the listless years that followed, of the small humiliations you had to succumb to in order to survive.

Frankie listened and nodded enthusiastically at all the right parts. It was only then that you realized his hands smoothed over the top of your scalp as you talked. You let it continue, it felt too nice not to.

He told you that you should, and if you needed help finding the money he could always--

You cut him off before he could finish the thought, shaking your head. Responsibilities came first, you had people who needed you. A degree to finish. Savings to maintain. You asked him about the new girl he’d been seeing and he eagerly launches into a story about a different, wild night out. You smile and laugh throughout the whole thing, trying to ignore the pang it gives you when he describes the dress she was wearing. He fingers continued to brush over the crown of your head as he talked.

You fell asleep there, on his lap. You woke up before the sun rose, hot and sweaty and still a little drunk from the vodka Redbulls that never agreed well with your heart.

It took you a second to realize you were in Frankie’s bed, alone. When you padded back into the living room, he was passed out on the couch, a throw blanket wrapped around his shoulders, using his arm as a pillow.

You left after helping yourself to a shower, texting him a sarcastic good luck with that hangover. You’re about to call a taxi home but something stopped you. You thought it might be the way the sun was barely breaking over the cusp of the smoggy horizon, the sky reduced to pale shades of violet with the coming dawn.

The quiet neighborhood Frankie lived in is all the more beautiful, like this. Subdued, empty, houses in winding but even rows that scale up the mountainside like sets of bad teeth. You decided to walk, just until the sun got a little brighter. Until the people started to shake themselves awake for a new day.

You got a text from him as you were making breakfast, back at your apartment by then. Thanks. Hope you slept well, little flower. Something about the small missive kept you smiling the whole day after.

You mess with your phone until Frankie returns.

“I’m sorry, for showing up like this,” Frankie says as he hovers over the living room’s threshold. The clothes you leant him fit well enough, only slightly oversized on his frame as opposed to how they generously drape off of you. He holds his towel in his hands, looking down at it instead of you.  “I honestly don’t have an excuse and you… you shouldn’t accept any. But I thought I should still tell you.”

You look at him for an extended beat, knowing he’s being honest. You’re at a genuine loss as to how to handle the situation.

“We can deal with it later,” you settle with that. It sounds good enough to you, and when he finally meets your eyes again he looks a little relieved. You nod you head towards the glass of water you placed on the coffee table, he takes your lead and settles on the opposite side of the couch, leaning over to take his own glass.

“So um… how are you?” He asks you earnestly, angling his body towards you.

“Okay,” you take a sip of water, trying to keep it casual. “Cleaning up my act a bit, you know? Going to school, picking up jobs here and there. Trying to figure out what I want to do. Oh! I uh… I learned how to drive--impressive I know.”

“The city flower herself, operating a vehicle?” His face breaks into a familiar, goofy smile you can’t help but reciprocate. “I’ll add every pedestrian in LA to my prayers.”

“You should,” you shake your head as you laugh, leaning into your corner of the couch and pulling your knees up to your chest. You finally relax, giving yourself the small allowance of settling into the comfort that inevitably comes with his presence.

And it really is just as easy as it always has been between the two of you. The conversation naturally ebbs and flows, neither of you bother to broach the heavier stuff. For now, just this it’s enough.

It’s enough to see the spark in his eyes when he tells you about his daughter, how bright she is, how much trouble she gets into—just like her dad. It’s enough to hear about his friends, all those names and backstories that you still vividly remember. It’s enough to bask in the feeling of how he leans into you with laughter, a hand lingering on your knee for seconds longer than it probably should have, as he always tends to do.

It’s enough to see him grin when you tell him about the scholarships you got, how weird it felt being the oldest person in all your classes, even if it was only by a handful of years. He doesn’t ask how your grandfather is, the living room being cleared of all the heart monitors and breathing machines is enough to answer that question. You’re grateful he doesn’t. You’re not sure you’d be able to keep a brave face if he did.

You don’t want time to pass. You want to stay here, with him, like this, in that perpetual state of catching up, in that breathless deluge that has the not-so-subtle undercurrent of this is what has happened since you left. I wish you would have been there. But I am so happy you are here now.

When you can no longer stifle your yawns, you stand to refill your glass of water, speaking on your walk over to the sink.

“I’d love to keep talking but I honestly don’t think I can keep my eyes open much longer,” you tell him as you turn the tap off. “I can make up the couch for you, if you’d like.”

When he doesn’t immediately respond, you turn to look back at him. He’s staring at you from where he is seated, eyes dark with something that isn’t just from the low light of the living room.

“What?” You ask after a few more seconds of him not responding. He looks away from you, shaking his head.

“Yeah, that would be great.”

Your eyes search his for a moment, positive that that was not at all what he was turning over in his head during those few seconds of silence. You’re too tired to press, so you gather a spare set of sheets for him. He stands when you come back into the living room, holding out his arms to take them from you. You wave him away, setting up the pull-out bed yourself. You’d grown up sleeping on this thing, tucking the fitted sheet into the corners was always tricky, and he didn’t know where the bolts of the couch’s frame would cut the shit out of his hands if he wasn’t careful.

Throwing a pillow down, you turn back to Frankie. He’s standing closer to you, now. You have to tilt your head up slightly to meet his eyes.

“All set,” you tell him. He nods, eyes searching your face for a moment. Your brow furrows. “Frankie, you’re being weird. Stop it.”

His chuckle breaks the tension.

“Sorry—I’ve been saying that a lot tonight, haven’t I?” He takes a deep breath. You’re smiling again, about to agree with him, and without warning his hand is comes up to cup the side of your face. You still, lips parted in an unasked question. “Thank you, little flower,” his voice goes rough again, as it had when you were speaking to each other through the door. “I really mean it.”

Frankie’s hand drops when you nod, lips pressed together. He sits back down on the pull-out. You wish him goodnight quietly and return to your room.

Leaving your bedroom door cracked open, you climb back into bed. With everything in you, you hope he’s still there when you wake. He will be.

[popcornaddict500]

A starry rooftop

In which Volaris tells a bit about his past and admits to Nadia that he's much more broken than he seems.

1300~ words (Volaris x Nadia)

~~~~~

Volaris stood on a balcony of one of the towers, resting his forearms on the railing. He watched the lights of Vesuvia's houses starting to turn on as the sun started to set.

It was a warm, pleasant summer's evening...

But Vol didn't find any joy in it.

The Palace was rather quiet around this time of day. The servants had more free time and there were fewer people around. He didn't mind it really. True, it made his thoughts wander more, but being alone at home wasn't any better.

He wished that there were fewer mirrors in the Palace. Every time he'd walk past them and catch a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror it dampened his mood.

Volaris only had one mirror in his apartment, just in the bathroom. And even that one he wanted to get rid of. But he wouldn't. He wanted to look acceptable at least.

His lilac gaze trailed over the calm streets of the city. Merchants were packing up, children ran home to their parents. How nostalgic. He smiled fondly, thinking back to when he was just a kid, running from the teacher who wanted to smack his hands with a ruler.

A warm breeze blew through his shaggy black hair. The smile disappeared.

If my father saw me now, I know he'd be disappointed in me.

.

"Volaris."

He jumped at a voice he knew all too well.

"Ahh... Nadia... Hey." He turned around with a small grin, leaning his hips against the railing instead.

"I looked all over for you. I did not expect to find you here." Nadia gave a gentle smile, moving closer to stand beside him.

"... Ah. Uh. Sorry... about that." He ran a hand through his hair, fidgeting with the ends of it. "I wasn't trying to hide from you if that's what you're thinking. Really."

"Then what were you doing up here? Admiring Vesuvia from a higher point of view?" She teased.

"I guess so." He turned his gaze to the smooth stone floor, resting his palms on his thighs. "It's beautiful in the evening."

His solemn expression wasn't lost on the Countess.

"Tell me what's on your mind." She put one of her hands on his.

"Uh- I don't really have anything to... say. I was thinking about when I was a kid, I suppose."

"Oh? I don't recall hearing about that before. I'm quite interested to know what you were like." Nadia smiled, taking his hand in hers and squeezed it.

"Ah... Alright."

"My childhood wasn't exactly special. Me and my sisters were raised mostly by our father because Mom wasn't around a lot. I lived in a small village across the sea. I went to school of course, but it wasn't really that advanced. We would learn our home language, Saayan. We also learned how to write, how to read. Since it was just a small town we focused mostly on making things with our hands. It's how most of the people made a living there. Building furniture, painting walls, hammering iron, and so on. I learned how to make sculptures out of clay, carve wood and stone, and paint. But there weren't a lot of other things we were taught."

"How did you learn to speak Vesuvian?" Nadia looked at him curiously.

"Lots of struggling... Asra was quite frustrated with me, I think. But it was thanks to him that I learned. I still can't write it very well, there's always lots of mistakes... At least I can read it. I admit, it was quite a mess. Going from speaking Saayan excellently to bumbling and stumbling through Vesuvian was... Embarrassing. I think I still have lots to learn."

"I think you speak wonderfully, Volaris." Nadia pressed a soft kiss to his ear, immediately causing him to flush red.

"Ah- You flatter me..." He mumbled under his breath, eyes averting. He curled a lock of his hair around his finger.

"It is not flattery if it's true, my dear." Nadia smirked, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes. "Your eyes are so beautiful." She crooned, turning his head this way and that. He stammered, voice starting to tremble.

"Ah- P-please stop."

She blinked and let go of his face. "...Alright? Have I upset you?"

"N-no, it's not that, I just..." He sighed.

"What is the matter?" She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

For a moment, the only sound was the soft evening breeze. It had gotten a lot darker already.

He took a deep breath, the solemn look from before returning.

.

"Lots of things. I was a lot happier when I was a child. -Which is generally the case, but you get my point. Even when I was a teenager, I didn't feel this awful. Sure, I was a bit of a mess, but a likeable one at that. Nowadays I can't even look in the mirror without feeling disgusted or disappointed."

Nadia blinked in surprise, but waited for him to keep talking.

"... I can't... I don't feel like I'll ever be on the same level as my friends, let alone you. I love you, don't me wrong, but it doesn't feel like I deserve you. I mean-- Just look at me. I'm dressed in rags, I can't cook, I'm a clumsy mess, I spend most of my time talking to my dog, I barely earn any money-- You get the point. I'm a wreck. I can't even write a letter without having to redo it three times." His eyes turned watery. "All I can do is carve some wood blocks or stones." He rubbed his temple, looking utterly tired.

"On top of that, I'm not easy on the eyes. You wouldn't know all of the times a date stood me up." He gave a bitter chuckle and bit down on his lower lip, the silver ring clinking against his teeth. "So what is good about me? I sure can't see it." He closed his eyes.

.

"Volaris, I... I had no idea you had been feeling this way."

"I'm good at hiding it," he mumbled.

"But you're being far too hard on yourself." She gave him a stern look. "I don't understand why you see so little value in yourself. I know for a fact that many people -including myself- would miss you if you ever were to disappear."

"Nadia, please. I don't-"

"Shh." She pressed a finger to his lips. "Let me speak."

He swallowed, but remained silent. She shifted so she could face him better.

"I don't care that you can't cook. I've seen clumsier people. It doesn't matter how much you earn and I would gladly get you a whole new wardrobe, if you'd let me." Her cheeks flushed for a second.

"W-Well yes, but-"

"When I look at you I see a kind, caring man. You do your best, that's all that matters. You've helped me and so many people. You're always gentle and loving. And saying you don't look beautiful is a blatant lie."

The sky was fully dark now. Nadia stood up to look at him directly, taking his face in her hands.

"How can you claim to be unattractive when you've got literal stars in your hair? And glowing eyes in a colour I've never seen? Paired with your personality and little traits which I adore, I think you're the most beautiful person I know." She whispered, wiping at the wet spots under his eyes. "Can you really not see that?"

He simply looked at her face for a few seconds. More tears threatened to spill.

"...No. Never." He whimpered, and they rolled down his face.

Nadia sighed sadly. "Then I will help you see it." Before he knew it, she had swept him into a hug. He flinched, but melted into it moments later, pressing his face in her hair.

"I really don't deserve you."

"Yes, you do."

[valdomarx]

Winterverse: a fic about Geralt and Jaskier sharing beds and catching feelings Previous parts [1] [2] [3] [4]

Jaskier is no coward.

Certainly, Geralt knows he is wont to be overly dramatic about minor inconveniences and rather too concerned with the state of his fine clothes. But when Geralt gets a contract on a dangerous beast, when any normal human would shrink back in fear and hide in their homes, then Jaskier insists on accompanying him.

He rather wishes Jaskier would be a little less brave on occasion. His apparent disregard for his own well being is more of a worry that Geralt would like to admit.

Still, he could never really deny Jaskier anything. So when he begs and wheedles to be brought along on a contract for a fiend, Geralt relents, even knowing the danger the beast presents.

The hunt begins as is typical: finding a victim’s remains, following a scent trail, locating the dark area of forest where the creature is hiding during the daylight hours. Geralt prepares his blade oil and his potions, and Jaskier even helps, handing him ingredients as he needs them. Geralt wonders when Jaskier learned so much about alchemy.

The trek through the forest is damp and dim, but nothing his senses can’t handle. Jaskier trails behind him, jumpy and uncertain.

Most people run away when they see a monstrous, inhuman witcher approaching them. But not Jaskier. When he’s scared, when something unexpected happens, or when immediate danger threatens, Jaskier runs towards Geralt. As if he feels safer beside him.

Geralt is usually too distracted by whatever danger Jaskier has just awoken to dwell on his actions. But when he thinks back on these moments, it makes something tug deep inside his chest to recall how Jaskier’s eyes soften and his body relaxes once he gets near him.

On this particular occasion, Geralt smells the beast before it comes into sight. He’s ready with a Devil’s Puffball bomb the moment the creature’s enormous antlers and scabby, shaggy fur come into view. 

There’s little that surprises Geralt at his age, so he’s not taken aback either by the fiend’s hideous appearance or by its stench. Jaskier, however, is a little less hardened to the realities of monster hunting, and gags as the fiend scuttles towards them on four legs, like a twisted, nightmarish version of a deer.

Geralt throws the bomb high and the creature staggers back, quelled for a moment by the staggering boom the bomb causes in the quiet forest. He doesn’t have much time though, so he knows has to move in fast and hard. He rolls in and slashes in quick, ugly strokes with his silver blade before the beast has time to attack. There is no space for compassion here, and he works efficiently, whittling down its strength in a relentless dance of attacks and dodges.

Jaskier has hidden behind a tree stump, mercifully intimidated enough by the sheer scale of the fiend to stay down. But the moment Geralt looks around to check on Jaskier he knows he has made a mistake in switching his attention.

The fiend rears back and lets out a ear-splitting cry, and Geralt can only watch as its third eye, located in the middle of its forehead, flies opens to reveal a burning red ember, coal-like and smoking.

The forest is plunged instantly into a night as black as pitch. Even with his heightened senses, all Geralt can see is that terrible red eye and all he can hear is the ringing in his ears. He staggers back, vertigo throbbing through his head and the pull of the fiend’s magic churning in his very bones. But this is nothing he hasn’t experienced before, so he steadies himself as Vesemir taught him, regains his balance, and rolls away from the beast to crouch concealed in the darkness.

Jaskier, however, has neither his training nor his experience. Geralt smells Jaskier’s fear more than he sees him, the acrid scent filling his nose as he hears the beast roar and tense, preparing to charge.

He knows Jaskier is in front of him, right in the fiend’s path. He can sense the disorientation and confusion coming off Jaskier; he knows how magnetic the pull of that demonic red eye is to humans, compelled to step closer even as they finally comprehend they are approaching their own oblivion.

Geralt moves fast. He charges forward into the darkness, body checking Jaskier out of the beast’s path and hearing him land with a confused oof in the dirt a few meters away. He doesn’t stop to check on him, instead rolling low and coming up within mere inches of the fiend, close enough that he can feel its stenching breath on his face.

He holds his blade low and thrusts upwards in sharp, vicious bursts, puncturing the beast’s lower jaw. He feels bone and skull shattering beneath his onslaught, and the creature lets out a terrible scream of agony. He has to dodge the wild swinging of its taloned limbs but he doesn’t stop, returning to redouble his efforts . With one final thrust he pushes his sword into its bottom jaw, through its mouth and then its brain and out the top of its skull.

The fiend screams once more, a hideous sound of pain and anger that shakes him down to the marrow, and then it falls. As its red eye dims and finally winks out, the dappled light of the afternoon bleeds back into the forest and Geralt feels like he can breathe again.

As the light returns, he goes straight to Jaskier’s side and picks him up out of the dirt, quickly checking him over. No blood, no obvious injuries, no lasting damage save the woozy, confused expression on his face which indicates a human shaking off an enchantment. He’s fine.

He sets Jaskier on his feet and goes about the messy but necessary business of collecting a trophy from the fiend. It takes him a few minutes of concentration before he notices that Jaskier is uncharacteristically quiet, and that the acrid stench of fear is still hanging around him in clouds.

“Geralt,” Jaskier eventually breaks the silence. “What in the hell was that?”

“Fiend,” Geralt says, factually. “They have ancient forest magic. They can hypnotise humans with their third eye."

Jaskier swallows. “That was the most horrific thing I’ve ever experienced.”

Strangely, Jaskier isn’t waving his arms around or being melodramatic. His voice is small and quiet, and his arms are wrapped around his body. Geralt has never seen him this subdued.

A lingering effect of the magic, he assumes. It’s just a bit of trickery. Jaskier will shake it off soon enough.

“It’ll make for a good song, hmm?” he says, lightening the mood, trying to cheer Jaskier as he’d assume he wants. But Jaskier only pales further and says nothing.

.

Geralt doesn’t understand humans. He realises this more and more as he spends time with Jaskier. From his point of view, today went as well as could have been hoped: the job is complete, no one had been injured, and he’d been paid in full for once. There’s an inn where they can eat and rest. The alderman even thanked him for slaying the fiend. It’s as close to a good day as he gets.

But Jaskier won’t settle. He won’t sit down for more than a minute and he’s been fidgety all night. He hasn’t so much as made a joke, or hummed an annoying tune, or strummed at his lute all evening. Instead, he paces.

Geralt rarely experiences fear these days, but he does remember how it felt as a child. The crushing weight on your chest, the way your feet seem to be glued to the floor, when the air is pulled from your lungs with such force you can’t even scream. He remembers it as a sharp and pointed thing, something acute and of the moment, something to be deflected and overcome. Something temporary.

He doesn’t remember this lingering feeling of distress that’s radiating off Jaskier, long after the danger has passed. The fiend is dead. Why would Jaskier still be afraid? It makes no sense.

Geralt tries to provides comfort the ways he knows how to: he makes sure Jaskier has the larger portion of food, and he moves so he is not blocking the door and Jaskier can always see the exit.

It doesn’t seem to help, and Jaskier remains quiet and withdrawn. Geralt never thought he’d miss Jaskier’s incessant chattering, but he finds himself uncomfortable with the silence that stretches out without Jaskier’s words to fill it.

He determines he will tell Jaskier the legends about fiends, where they come from, what their weaknesses are, which organs can be cut out and sold or used for potions. For him, having this knowledge of a creature makes it less intimidating: here are the facts, and with those you are forearmed should you ever need to face one.

It doesn’t seem to work with Jaskier. He barely gets out a few words about the differences between fiends and chorts before Jaskier cuts him off, with a terse, “I’ve had quite enough of fiends for one day.”

It’s odd, because Jaskier usually loves to hear about monster classifications. It’s one of the things Geralt likes most about him, the way he pays attention to the things that Geralt says and the way he appreciates the finer details that others overlook. But Geralt is out of ideas and Jaskier is still on edge, so they retire to bed.

.

Their room is spacious and even has two beds, making it practically luxurious by their usual standards. Yet Jaskier is still downcast.

“It’s okay,” Geralt tries one last time, stumbling only slightly over his words. “The fiend is dead. It can’t hurt you now.”

Jaskier looks at him, and myriad emotions parade across his face in a matter of seconds, racing by too fast for Geralt to comprehend. “I know,” Jaskier says eventually, bottom lip wobbling. Tears are welling in his eyes. “It’s just -”

He trails off, and then he’s bounding across the room and clutching Geralt, fisting his shirt tightly in his hands. “I really thought I was going to die.”

“Oh.” Geralt stills for a moment, uncertain how to react to this flagrant display of emotion. But he puts his arms around Jaskier, and it’s easier that he would have thought to hold him and to stoke gentle circles into his back, the same way he’d calm Roach if she were scared. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Jaskier sniffles and tucks his face into Geralt’s neck. “It was horrible,” he says, voice wobbling. “It was like every dark, awful feeling I’ve ever had was magnified and I knew the fiend was going to rip me apart and even then I was drawn to it. Like I wanted it to kill me. I couldn’t stop it.”

“It’s okay,” Geralt says again, unsure what he could possibly say that would help. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

Jaskier pulls back and gives him a watery, lopsided smile. “You wouldn’t,” he agrees. His eyes flick to the bed Geralt has taken under the window, and then to his own bed on the far side of the room. “Could I...” he trails off. “Could I sleep in your bed tonight? I’m sorry, I know it’s silly, but I really feel -”

“Of course,” Geralt interrupts him. That’s easily done, and if it makes Jaskier feel better, then it’s no imposition on him. “Of course you can.”

Jaskier manages a smile, a real smile, at that and Geralt is already glad he can be useful. If he’d known that something as simple as physical contact would have helped Jaskier, he’d have offered it sooner.

They shed their clothes and lie together on the uneven straw mattress, each on their back and staring at the ceiling. Jaskier flops to face away and curls up in on himself, bringing his knees up to his chest and holding his arms around his legs.

That doesn’t look like a happy situation, but Geralt is hesitant to impose himself. What comfort could he offer? Still, Jaskier had asked to sleep here, so he’s clearly not averse to Geralt's touch.

Geralt carefully, gently, rolls over and puts an arm around Jaskier’s waist. He‘s ready to back off in an instant should Jaskier show signs of being uncomfortable but... instead, Jaskier sighs softly and relaxes into him.

Good. That’s progress. Geralt shuffles a little closer so that Jaskier can feel his warmth all along his body, and Jaskier uncurls against him with a low hum, bringing his hand up to lace their fingers together.

“You’re safe with me,” Geralt murmurs, voice quiet and, he hopes, reassuring. “I’d never let anything hurt you.”

Jaskier lets out the tiniest sob and Geralt holds him closer, determined to show Jaskier that he’s safe even if he doesn’t know how to put it into words. Without thinking about it, he drops a chaste kiss onto the crown of Jaskier’s head, the wavy hair soft beneath his lips.

The tension leeches out of Jaskier’s body bit by bit, and with each breath in and out that pungent smell of distress lessens and Jaskier’s natural scent of lavender and linseed and home returns. Soon enough, Jaskier slips into sleep as Geralt holds him close.

It’s incredible, really. Every other human Geralt has met has wanted to run from him. They’ve seen his monstrous visage and sensed the aura of death that surrounds him and they’ve felt discomfort and horror and fear. And yet, here is Jaskier, who runs towards him, who follows him around through the mud and the muck just to watch him do his job and sing his praises. And more than that, in his darkest moments, Jaskier feels better for having Geralt around. He feels safer in his presence.

It is an extraordinary gift, to be blessed with such trust, and one which Geralt can only hope in time to live up to.