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kmhnsecretexchange · 9 months

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Title: you can (we will) be better

Author: dedfish on AO3

For: logicdive (twitter) Pairings/Characters: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito

Rating/Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Prompt: Post-Game — I feel like DR3’s ending for the cast of SDR2 is really underutilized, so it would be cool to see something going off of that! What’s it like having all these personalities crammed into a boat together to float around the ocean for the foreseeable future? It’s gotta get tense sometimes. How’s the sleeping situation? There can’t possibly be that much room in there, so maybe Hajime and Nagito are… roommates? Do they ever get off of that boat, and what kind of problems do they face with most of the world still thinking that they’re Remnants of Despair? Ships can be pretty dangerous places too, I can definitely imagine something going wrong… Lots of opportunity for hurt/comfort and relationship growth!

Author’s notes: this fic is set right after dr3’s anime, as dr2 cast+mitarai(i cant remember lore anymore) set out to sea!

i hope you all enjoy this fic! and logicdive i hope you like it too!!! (ahhhh sorry for the late post, i am still paranoid about the quality)

enjoy the fic :DD!

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52595074

The scent of the sea breeze was sharp and unforgiving against Hajime’s nose. When they made the Ultimate Hope, they didn’t exactly take any considerations for their new Izuru’s comfort, expecting a machine of pure talent. Expecting Izuru.

It wasn’t like any of those scientists had gotten their own payback in the Tragedy, and grudges weren’t meant for those already long dead—long gone to whatever hell they belonged. But his sharp senses—the feeling of coolness untouched by the pollution of the Despairs against the morning’s sun—was wonderful, for a short second. And then he turned around.

Teru had managed to convince the crew to haul out a grill on deck, of all things. The plans for a celebratory barbecue were obviously in the works, fondness escaped through a small smile, but for a second, he wished it wasn’t there, the smoke annoying.

What was he thinking? He was glad that his friends could even celebrate in the first place. Their weary smiles—all of them except… Chiaki—were worth it. Even if the scent was truly awful, fat sizzling with greasy coals.

Nagito’ s presence swished into being a couple feet away, and Hajime waited until his footsteps echoed closer, before he turned around slowly.

His hair—it truly looked like clouds—bobbed along with a muted, yet not any less, cheerful smile. Happiness suited him, and Hajime let a smile out in response, waving a little.

“A toast, Hajime?” He asked, nodding to the drinks beside him. But they were—

“Cider?” Hajime leaned forward, the apples and cinnamon delicious on the wind, a relief.

Nagito let his grin fall into a half-quirk of a small smile, “Of course. How lucky I guessed a drink you would like, huh?”

Hajime couldn’t think of anything to say besides a grateful, quick thanks, and gladly took it from his hands. The mechanical one whirred, almost soundlessly, as Hajime brushed against cold metal. Nagito noticed his look, and he sighed.

“Is it truly that unsightly, Hajime?” He questioned, leaning against the ship’s railing. His coat clinked against the metal.

“No, no, it’s great—I was just wondering if we need to do maintenance—” Hajime quickly tried to backtrack, feeling his ears go bright red. Hajime of all people, making others self-conscious—

“Haha, I’m just joking,” Nagito smiled, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and he tilted his head against the sunrise, “but there you are.”

“Ah… that’s good,” the unspoken question hanging in the air between them. Hajime wondered if he asked, would it be too awkward?

“I was worried about you standing on the sidelines,” Nagito answered, surprisingly intuitive, “because, you know, you did great. And whenever Izuru used to be… bored, he looked like you.” He met Hajime’s eyes, before looking away.

“Thank you, Nagito. Really.” His denial hung at the end of sentence, but it would be a lie if he really didn’t just feel like an outsider. Just sometimes. “How much do you remember of… us? Me.”

“Enough.” He raised the glass to his lips, the light catching against crystals, and Hajime looked away. Hajime caught a sly smirk from the corner of his eye, and suspiciously glanced over, “I can, from what I remember—the hope inside of both of you, truly—it was fantastically—”

“Not again! Jeez, man. That came out of nowhere.” Hajime groaned, thunking his forehead against the railing, exasperatedly fond. He didn’t predict that today.

A chuckle rang out, low-toned but clear, besides him. Hajime tilted his head up, and watched the weak, golden sunlight play across his half-smiling, crescented seaglass eyes.

Beautiful. Wait, no, not like that! He firmly planted his face in his arms, determinedly ignoring his traitorous thoughts.

“I hope to surprise, Hajime,” Nagito’s elbow brushed against his. The ship slowly rocked against a wave, the sea’s spray crushingly loud. They had long sailed, and the journey away from the Foundation’s base had already been charted.

The silence was… nice.

And if Hajime could crystallize this moment—Ibuki’s laughter and Hiyoko’s dancing and Kazuichi’s whines and Sonia’s scolding with Tanaka’s musings for Imposter’s worry mixing into Mitarai’s giggles, Nagito’s contentment—it would be perfect.

He hoped this would be his future.

—

If Hajime had raised his head, or just looked up, he would see Nagito’s wistful tenderness, looking down on him.

He would see the slight, soft smile—but no, not yet. That was for the future too.

—

“Um, hey guys,” Hajime winced at how unsure he even sounded, “you… feeling good?” He glanced around the banquet table, attempting to plaster on confidence.

Everyone stared back at him. Hiyoko snorted, slapping Mikan’s shoulder.

“Are we a kindergarten class, you moron?” she grinned, lifting up an eyebrow.

“I certainly hope not,” Imposter whispered, barely audible. Mitarai weakly grinned and patted his shoulder.

“Ibuki feels amazing! This is a rocking boat!” Ibuki smiled, chin on her hands.

“Um… ah… yes? I agree?” Mikan uncertainly chimed in, still confused, with Hiyoko rolling her eyes.

Hajime sighed, smiling. He leaned back against the wall, and forcibly told himself to relax.

“Your complaints are noted, guys.” He briefly noticed Nagito’s white, fluffy hair from the corner of his eyes. Relax, Hajime, relax. You’re an Ultimate. “So, with the Future Foundation, we need to decide our next steps together. The way I see it, we can essentially go through with two options: Jabberwock… or back to Japan. Mixing both would be difficult, but also possible. I want all of our opinions to count.”

“Going back? But… we released that video… I mean, do I count? As part of you guys?” Mitarai asked, bags under his eyes seemingly deepening even further.

“We discussed this, commoner. Yes,” Imposter switched back to Byakuya, “you count as part of our class.”

“Yeah,” Haijime nodded, “you definitely count. The best way for us to figure this out is by discussion, but I think holding a vote would be helpful. Sonia, any suggestions?”

“Why, indeed! I think democracy is a novel idea that I certainly would love to experience!” Sonia’s eyes lit up enthusiastically, her smile beaming. However, her expression turned serious quickly. “Hajime, we should decide later, as we all, especially you, deserve rest.”

“Ha, yeah. I’ll… I mean, I think we had a good day today.” Hajime replied, a little sheepishly.

“And we’re back on a ship again!” Ibuki cheered, pumping up her hands. Chaos immediately descended, everyone’s chatter excited.

“How shall we decide on rooms?”

“Heh, how devilish. My Dark Devas and I desire to room with Sonia herself.”

“Huh? No way! We can room with the opposite gender? I refuse.”

“I AM FINE WITH WHOEVER! BAHAHAHA!”

“He’s gonna clog up our toilet again… anybody but him!”

They were kindergarteners.

“Guys,” Hajime sighed, “everyone can room with whomever they want. Not my business, but both parties have to approve. And first come, first serve for rooms.”

“Hajime… soul bro! I understand, I won’t let this chance slip by!” Kazuichi’s tears were a little excessive, but he marched off towards Sonia, obviously shooting to get a room with her.

The ruckus in the room reached new heights of noise, as everyone started pairing up. Hajime watched Tanaka and Kazuichi start arguing, and suddenly, he felt very, very tired. He slid down into a chair and felt a soft tap on his shoulder.

“Hey, you were pretty quiet today too,” Hajime cracked a small, sincere smile. Nagito rolled his eyes.

“I spared everyone the torture today.”

“No, we like hearing you talk.”

“We? I’m not sure if that’s true. Mahiru holds grudges, from what I remember, and I’m sure Fuyuhiko believes me to be strange. Oh—Teru can hate me, though.”

“Even so, that doesn’t mean we want you to shut up. They… changed, they don’t hate you,” because that would mean they would hate themselves for their actions too. “You can trust me when I say you should talk to them too. They’re pretty awesome.”

“Aha… I know. But you’re very kind,” Nagito responded quietly, “and… do you have a roommate yet?” Hajime looked up, opening his mouth to respond—

“Soul bro… you wanna room? Tanaka, that prick…” Kazuichi grumbled, dropping down next to him with a sigh. He looked incredibly disappointed. Hajime could guess what had happened.

“Kazuichi, I think I already have—”

Kazuichi’s eyes opened wide, jumping back and forth between Nagito’s hand and Hajime’s shoulder. A slow smile crept across his face.

“Oh. Ohhhh, I see, finally—not bad, Hajime, heh. I want you to know I support you.”

“I—what did I do? Finally?” He asked, confused. He turned to Nagito, who seemed equally as confused, judging by the furrow between the eyebrows. Kazuichi looked both elated and resolved, and about to burst into tears at any moment now.

“You don’t need to say anything, bro. You’ve got this—a bit of a… unique guy, but I can see it! Congratulations to you too, Nagito!” Kazuichi laughed, clapping them both on the back.

He turned to leave, but not before he turned to Hajime, mumbling, “And… Hajime? Erm, I’m glad you two figured it out—I was so oblivious…” Hajime just blinked, confused, “Of course, he wasn’t even interested… the girls’ swimsuits…”

He trailed off, sounding disgruntled even as he passed Hajime’s hearing range. Hajime didn’t know what to think, really.

Was there some miscommunication? It didn’t seem harmful, though, so that was excusable.

“Hajime, what just happened to him? He was weirder than usual.” Nagito’s expression twitched into an automatic smile, before falling into bewilderment. He grimaced, before he opened his eyes wide, turning ever-so-slightly pink. “Hm.”

Now, even Nagito? He was definitely missing something.

“No idea, honestly,” he stared after Kazuichi, watching him as he jerkily scooted near Nekomaru’s booming laughter.

“Then, well, would you still like to room, Hajime? I understand if I make you uncomfortable—of course, you might want to be with someone else, perhaps—I don’t want to make you do something out of obligation—”

“Of course, I want to.” Those words felt unexpectedly genuine, in a way that Hajime had difficulty adjusting to. Taking a deep breath, Hajime held out his hand. “Luggage? I don’t know where you kept yours.”

“Mm, it’s on deck. I can get it.” The breeze picked up, swirling the slight saltiness of the sea past him.

“No, please, don’t bother, Nagito. I haven’t had the time to adjust your hand yet—or do any maintenance checks for heavy weights—”

The sudden, bright burst of laughter that followed was beautiful, and it took his attention way too fast. Concerningly, it made him go blank for a second—like he was reacting, instead of knowing what and when and why and all possible escape routes and who was doing what and the Ultimates and he was the Ultimate.

It was… nice.

Nagito grinned, a small but genuine peek of joy, “Thank you, Hajime. We can do that after I get my stuff, okay? Don’t worry, Mr. Leader of Despair.”

“You…ugh… lovebirds! Get a goddamn room!” Fuyuhiko screamed, startling Hajime to attention. Had everyone else heard that?

Nagito went a bright red, like he was sunburned for a moment, before—

“Says you, baby gangster. Peko, he totallyyyy ruined the moment,” Hiyoko complained, poking Peko’s arm.

“I agree. I will remove him from this scene to let… that continue. Master? Let’s pick out our room, instead.” Fuyuhiko grumbled, but ultimately went off with Peko without another glance.

Hajime awkwardly scooted off to the side, feeling a bit embarrassed himself. He was not paying attention at all.

“Nagito?”

“Hm?” His face was still a little red, but it had settled into the impassivity he had held before. That face… was…

Maybe it was best if they left. Everyone seemed wrapped up in their own choices, and it wasn’t like they were malicious, anyways.

He looked around, and no one was appearing to pay attention anyways, wrapped up in their own laughter watching Peko drag Fuyuhiko across the deck.

“Can we leave? Please?”

“Of course. Let’s do that—come on,” Nagito muttered, pulling on his arm in an uncharacteristic show of force. Hajime let himself be dragged to the open door, the wide sea still glinting blue.

He could resist. No one could beat him with his extraordinary talents. They were good enough to pull him away, to stop, to put some distance.

The Nagito in front of him was far, far better, though. Hajime followed, feeling his voice swept past him from the ocean’s winds.

—

“This place is nice,” Nagito smiled, tracing patterns on the mattresses.

The room was actually quite nice—cruise-worthy for sure, and definitely a good holdover until they decided where they would go. A thin breeze fluttered between the door, ruffling Nagito’s hair slightly. He averted his eyes; the feeling in his chest didn’t feel friendly, but not angry, either.

“I know, the Foundation gave us a good one.”

“Mhm.” Nagito bent down over the bunks, curiously leaning over the edges.

“Find anything?”

“Nope, haha, but it looks like they definitely need an Ultimate House—sorry, Janitor here. Ah,” Nagito winced and so did Hajime. Should he say something? He was the de facto leader after all, he should such address emotional vulnerability—

“You know, it’s totally fine to talk about her. She was… our—your teacher.” Hajime stared at the floor, but lifted up his gaze to Nagito’s pause.

“Then, if you don’t mind hearing, Ms. Chisa… I thought she came out safe. All those years ago, with the Foundation, once she left us,” Nagito slowly said, turning around.

“I knew you guys liked her a lot, right?” Haijime asked, feeling himself mechanically go through the motions of unpacking. He turned away; somehow, it was easier to ask when they didn’t have to address anything they said, without facial expressions that Hajime couldn’t control well.

“She brought us together,” a shuffling sound echoed through the room, “when no one else could. In part, she’s the reason—the reason why the good of us is here today. She made us into a real class.”

A seagull screeched in the distance, interrupting Hajime’s train of thought. He spoke almost automatically.

“I see. That’s completely valid, but,” And then, as a quick afterthought, “None of you guys did anything. She… the real one you guys knew… probably died in the Tragedy.”

“Yeah. We did a lot of dying.” Nagito forced out a short, painful laugh, and Haijime smoothed out a corner of his bedsheets, gathering his thoughts.

“You don’t get to say that… with us around. Either way, on the island or with the Future Foundation, we’ll make it up for the rest of our lives.” He watched as a sliver of moonlight fell onto his hands.

At least his hands were unscarred. Nagito’s soft noise of agreement rocked them into the quiet of the cruise.

“You want to go on a walk later, Hajime?”

In response, his heart almost jumped to his throat, and he felt unexpectedly flustered. What was wrong with a simple question, it didn’t mean anything besides an offer of spending time together. They walked plenty on the island, why this reaction now?

Still panicking, he replied hastily, “Tomorrow, maybe? I’m, uh, feeling sleepy. We did a lot today.” He internally face-palmed and whirled around to… stare at nothing.

“Of course. I’ll explore the ship tonight, ” Nagito patted his shoulder, almost nonchalantly, and raised an eyebrow at his stutter, but left it alone. “Goodnight, Hajime.”

“Goodnight, I guess,” Hajime called behind him, hopefully casual. He stared after him, as Nagito brushed past the door.

What was wrong with him?

—

He doesn’t sleep at all.

And for Nagito? He slips into the room at approximately whatever-o-clock, quietly rustles for a couple minutes, and doesn’t sleep either, judging from constant turning.

They stay awake, until Nagito falls asleep an hour later. Hajime doesn’t.

—

Hajime stared at the ceiling. Was he supposed to get up now? It was already morning—the windows told him that much.

He wasn’t sleepy, though. It didn’t feel close to his limit at all—according to Izuru’s memories, there wasn’t exactly a hard limit to the amount of sleep the Ultimate Hope needed.

Subhuman, huh.

Nagito rustled underneath his covers, quietly moving. He was probably awake by now too.

“You awake?” Hajime quietly whispered. If he was truly asleep, Hajime had regulated his volume to not wake him up, hopefully. Nagito huffed quietly, and he turned around, smiling.

His hair was even fluffier than usual, spread out upon the sheets, and haloing his bright, green eyes.

“Nah, of course I’m not awake. But hey, Hajime. You look… tired.” Nagito’s contented expression waned slowly, as he scanned his face.

“I didn’t get to sleep much.” Hajime smiled sheepishly, sitting up and running his hand back through his hair. “I did get some sleep though.”

“Whatever the Ultimate Ultimate says.” He shrugged, seemingly relaxed. “If you’re not too sleep-deprived, how’re you thinking of a short walk? I heard it’s good for you.”

“The Ultimate Nurse, Pediatrician, and Psychologist certainly seem to think so,” Hajime smiled, gesturing out to the hallway, part of him aching to those words.

The hallway’s carpet muffled their steps, making everything that much quieter in the face of dawn. A new day.

“Do you have anywhere in particular you’d like to see? Future Foundation spared no expense on whatever cruise ship this used to be.” Nagito’s hair bobbed along every step they took, almost beige in the lamplights.

“Not particularly. I can guess how most designers would want anything.” His footsteps were always quiet anyways. He tried to deliberately make them louder, to match Nagito’s. “One thing I learned from all this is,” Nagito smiled, turning to face Hajime, “never say you know everything about anything.” His shoulders bumped against his, and Hajime narrowed his eyes playfully.

“Mhm, sure, All-Wise-And-Knowledgeable.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” Nagito’s hand seemed only a whisper away and Hajime almost wanted to reach out, “but whatever floats your boat.”

“You dork.”

“The trashiest dork.” The weak sunlight brought a rose-gold tint upon everything and—well, everyone. The entire cruise ship seemed much more peaceful and calm, and Hajime could see why people got up early. On purpose, though, ugh.

“I believe that.” He joked. Hajime glanced down over the railing, watching the murky, deep blue waters. It reflected the ship’s paleness, and it was nice, too. Maybe. It looked scary, though.

“Come on,” Nagito motioned over to a glass door, “we aren’t going to brood near the sea today.”

“Aw, no,” Hajime rolled his eyes fondly, but he followed along anyway, “brooding, my favorite activity.” And, “Where are you taking me?” Hajime questioned slowly, watching the green coat bob from side to side.

Did he have a million of those? How did he manage to keep all his coats from Jabberwock?

“Well, as a part-time Ultimate, I found a pretty cool spot when I looked around last night,” Nagito turned into a smaller, more dim hallway, “and it really was quite, ha—lucky ultimately. And hopeful.”

Finally, he stopped suddenly at a simple, wooden door, where Hajime might’ve crashed into him, if he hadn’t had experience with Nagito leading him around anyways. He still almost tripped, though.

“You could be an Ultimate Joker too, with that,” Hajime groaned, slapping his forehead. How did he get stuck on a ship with this guy?

Well—rhetorical question.

“What?” Nagito frowned, opening the door. “I found it quite funny in my head.” He looked so disappointed, Hajime almost felt bad—key word, almost. But—ugh.

“It was super, erm, creative, though? I… don’t really know what else to say about it though, it just falls… sort of flat.” Hajime tried, okay.

This was exactly why he left the compliment business to literally anyone else.

“And—ow, wait, why did you stop?” Hajime grumbled, rubbing his forehead. Nagito’s hair was surprisingly fluffy.

Kinda cute.

No, no, stop this, no—not right now. He was not having those thoughts right now.

“Because we’re here, of course!” Nagito steered him to his side, happily staring around him. “I call it the Cruise of the Tough, Traumatized Ultimates: There’s a Garden!”

Real trees—a scattering of bonsai, with lavender circling around what was evidently an artificial spring of water—that were fashioned to look like an artificial garden, flowing around pebbles and drapes of flowering vines.

They stood on marble, a paved walkway winding around the sauna, with overgrown lavender and mosses peeking out between the cobblestones. In this world—in this time, it was almost untouched by the outside world.

It hadn’t been torn down by Despair, or tainted by it. A luxury even Jabberwock couldn’t count as.

…but it was tainted by a bit too much algae, judging from the thin green film across some of it. And also, what was that name Nagito just said?

“What the heck did you just call this?” Hajime blinked once. Before blinking again. He definitely heard that right.

“Hm? You mean there’s a garden? …I called it a garden.”

“With a couple other words, I think. But… I mean, thanks for showing me this. Pretty good luck, I’d say.” Hajime’s cheeks hurt. When had he broken into such a huge smile?

Nagito beamed widely, before nudging Hajime’s side. “My present for you! You’ve seemed down lately.”

“…ah. I can’t argue against that, but I thought—with the ship being down for so long, any plants would’ve been cleared out for Foundation preservation.” Hajime walked closer towards the lavender, poking it. It shook slightly.

“I thought so,” Nagito’s agreement echoed slightly. “Luckily, they missed a spot.”

The quiet peace of the impromptu visit was nice, broken only by the occasional gurgling of the spring’s waterways. It was probably clogged as hell, Hajime considered it a miracle the seawater was still being recycled back and forth, in whatever system the ship used to use for first-class passenger entertainment. Maybe he could clean it—he might as well, with all the free time they would have. With either decision.

The lavender’s buds brushed against his hands, and Nagito’s shoulders visibly relaxed. His shoulder bumped against Hajime’s, as he leaned against him. It strangely did feel casual—nice, although Hajime did notice his heartbeat speed up.

Ever so slightly, but still.

“Really, I’m glad you showed me this… Nagito. I’m happy to see this, honestly—especially since you found this place on our cruise ship?”

“Yes, of course. And what are best friends for?” Hajime stared up at Nagito, shocked. Best friends?

“We’re best friends… yeah. Uh, yeah,” Hajime felt like he was back in those earlier days before the game, stuttering and bright-faced in the face of Nagito’s friendship, “But how can I even beat this? This is… amazing.” Hajime felt like he was violently going to explode from… embarrassment, was that it?

“You don’t need to compete with me for something we both share, Hajime,” Nagito’s eyes were bright and knowing with… something, “And I just wanted to give you a place I knew to relax, sometimes. Especially with everyone deciding between Jabberwork and—”

Nagito was probably going to be the strangest best friend he had ever had. Kind of the most insane one he’d ever known, but hey. He wasn’t much better.

And—he had wanted to ask Nagito something else as well.

“Well,” Hajime rolled his eyes and turned towards Nagito, “Do yourself a favor and take breaks with me too. You hypocrite—I have no idea what thoughts go on up there.”

“Says you, leader. And kind of the whole reason we’re all alive in one—haha, mostly—hopeful piece.” He joked. Nagito elbowed him slightly, the only tell for his humor in his slight, barely noticeable smirk.

“I can’t take all the credit, you know that. What you did in the game—” Hajime tried to clarify, noticing Nagito’s expression cool.

“—what I did in the game was not… hope—argh. You know that.” Nagito’s cheer turned more strained, as he noticeably stiffened. Tension snapped into place, the atmosphere growing cold.

“I know. I’m not making excuses. I know you did terrible things, and I’m electing to also consider what good you did do,” Hajime replied, feeling slightly… angry. He didn’t want him talking about himself like that. Nagito’s arm whirred beside him as he stood up—the lavender crunched underneath him.

“I can’t do this right now, Hajime,” Nagito murmured. Tiredness overshadowed his posture, his expression cold and… terrified. “I’ll call it an early night. I’ll see you later.”

His footsteps sounded all the way to the door, before it screeched open. Nagito paused for a second, before he continued into the hallway. The footsteps disappeared then, too.

“I’ll… see you, too,” Hajime told nothingness. The door swung shut, creaking back awkwardly.

“I just… I wanted to make him feel better, at least. And, it’s not like I’m wrong—ugh, why am I like this…” Hajime buried his head in his hands, closing his eyes.

Everything just felt off. Wrong. Or maybe he was the one who was weird, instead. What was even wrong with him?

First, the isolation he felt from everyone else—that was understandable, things changed after he split with Izuru. His emotions—they kept on malfunctioning at unrelated situations. Now, his ability to even talk with his friends?

“What’s even going on?” He groaned. He raised up his head, squinting at the lavender.

The lavender rustled back, like that was supposed to be an answer.

“And why the hell am I talking to a plant!”

—

“Well, um… I don’t think you’re compromised by puberty or anything else physically? And, um, mentally, you’re still the same from our previous check-ups—I can ask for an evaluation by a psychiatrist from the Foundation. You—you probably don’t have anything wrong, still?” Mikan half-questioned, half-commanded. She flipped through his records on a clipboard, looking uncharacteristically serious.

She then looked back up. “W-What do you think you’re struggling with, Hajime?”

“I get like these… palpitations. I also get… emotional at weird times? I normally don’t feel much of anything, though,” Hajime responded, staring at his hands. He squinted at his shoes—they kinda looked dirty. And the clock was ticking. And what was this weird therapy roleplay?

Mikan blinked, slightly incredulous. “I… You’re supposed to feel emotions, n—normally. But, of course, Izuru—I would consider that as a good sign, that you’re feeling that. That you’re feeling, at least. More concerningly, moving on… when do you get these palpitations?”

Hajime sighed, slamming his head down on the table. It barely hurt. “Okay, that part’s fine—but for the interruptions, I have no idea! It just happens whenever. And I don’t think there’s a physical factor to that.”

“I read about this kind of situation! Ahaha… um… is it around… a certain guy? Maybe?” Mikan looked side to side, before leaning in. “Perhaps… Nagito?” She blushed violently, visibly excited. Was she really that interested?

“No… wait, maybe yes. It could be the feelings of friendship? But I don’t feel it around Kazuichi, or anyone else.”

Mikan blankly stared at him, before she slapped her forehead. “O—Of course. Of course, it’s and then they were roommates here. I’m literally—get out.” Her expression turned dark, almost angry, shadows looming over her eyes. She suddenly looked very much like an Ultimate Nurse… and ha… he felt like he was in danger.

“What do you mean? Get out? Wait, but you didn’t tell me why—”

“Go and talk to your best friend, Hajime. I s—swear, jeez,” Mikan rolled her eyes, looking less uncertain, “So that was the i—issue.”

“Mikan… your sarcasm, I don’t really get it—” Hajime raised his hands, flinching back from her annoyance.

“Then you don’t deserve to get it, I’m s—surrounded by the dumbest Ultimates ever.” She slammed her clipboard down on the desk, shaking in anger. “And talk to him! You adorab—agh, idiots.”

“But he got angry at me? I tried to talk about his actions in the game, and he kinda just left? I don’t know what happened!” Hajime, flustered, tried to ask. He needed to figure out what to do to fix this.

“O—oh, see now, that’s important. But still—go find him! Komaeda always likes to talk with you, and he’ll understand if you honestly just talk about it. Kids, I swear,” Mikan grumbled, before straightening up with an almost manic energy. She started shoving Hajime to the door, smiling menacingly behind him.

Shocked, Hajime could only follow along, before remembering, “And—wait! I’m bad at this stuff, what do I—”

And the door shut right in front of him. He sighed, as Mikan’s giggling faded with her retreat into her and Hiyoko’s room.

“Everyone’s insane, why did I even try.” Hajime groaned, trudging through the hallways. Time… to find Nagito. —

“Hey, Nagito? You okay to talk?” Hajime asked, slowly approaching Nagito on the ship’s deck. The evening’s sun flitted briefly over the clouds, before hiding behind the clouds again. He looked… lonely.

No better time than the present to get it over with.

“I am, of course. I would like to first apologize—” He started.

“I’m really sorry—”

“Oh.”

“Ah… yeah, both of us, I guess. But truthfully, you did nothing wrong, you… meant to say it from a sincere perspective. I reacted strangely… I just needed space.”

“I still brought up something you were uncomfortable with. And the game is a sore spot for all of us—I don’t blame you either, Nagito.” Hajime sheepishly smiled, rubbing the back of his head.

Nagito flashed a small smile in response, before falling back into seriousness yet again, “Still. I think we can both accept each other’s apologies?”

“Of course, yeah. Mikan literally pushed me out of her room—it was funny. ” Hajime grinned, before throwing an arm around his shoulder.

Nagito stiffened visibly, before asking, “And why—why were you in her room?”

“To ask her how to apologize to you. She was kinda weird though.”

“A—Ah, of course.” Nagito turned a slight shade of pink, looking slightly embarrassed. “I have no idea what got into me.”

“Um, yeah. Don’t worry—a common misunderstanding—you’re still definitely my best friend.” Hajime clapped his shoulder, grinning at him. Jeez, Nagito did overthink sometimes.

“Ah—yeah, best friends.” Nagito smirked, raising his eyes to the sky. “Best of friends. I’m fine with that for now.” He meaningfully looked back at Hajime, but what was that… undertone?

“I’m glad, honestly. You are. But also… I wanted to ask about you wanted to do? As well?” Hajime continued, trying to not read too much into that. Was it just him… or was that kind of… nah. Probably not, ha!

“Go ahead. Is this about where we’d head from here? For Jabberwock or back to Japan?”

“Oh, yeah. I think we’re going to meet up for it tomorrow… I just wanted to hear what you thought first.” Nagito nodded, seemingly deep in thought.

“Well, I’m for Jabberwock… actually. I don’t think what we did can ever be… redeemed. Or forgiven. And I don’t want to lose all of the class again so soon. Is it surprising?” Nagito smiled, looking down to the waves crashing against the ship. “You might’ve expected more from me—I do want consequences, but not at the cost of our lives.”

“That’s… I’m glad to hear that. It was honest.” Hajime murmured, lost in thought. He glanced at Nagito’s regretful smile. “But I was thinking about Jabberwock—and it might not be such a great idea after all.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“We’re only alive because of the Foundation’s grace—from the killing game we saw happening, it’s obvious the Foundation’s still unstable.” Hajime winced at the thought of Mitarai and the board member’s plan. “We owe them a lot, and hiding in Jabberwock while the world thinks we masterminded it all… it’s a good short-term plan, but it won’t last. Just like how we can’t blame Junko for everything we did, we can’t be blamed for everything the Foundation did.”

He looked out into the sea, watching as a seagull swooped on the horizon.

“It all gets out eventually.”

Nagito nodded approvingly, shifting towards Hajime. He let out a quiet breath of laughter, before glancing up.

“I see… you’re not wrong. I wouldn’t want the Foundation’s masterminds to escape infamy so easily either—but you propose we… go back to Japan? We will most likely get killed.”

“That’s my struggle as well. I don’t know how I can lead the class on this.” Hajime sighed.

Nagito’s eyes lit up, suddenly. He excitedly whirled around, “Not if we wait. Not if we let the world rebuild itself first. Why did we think we had two options in the first place? Since when did we let those options choose our lives?”

“That is… true. I had only thought that because…”

“Exactly, because we thought we were faced with either being cowards or getting sent to our deaths. But that’s not the case—the Foundation can bring us back from Jabberwock whenever we want.”

“Wait—yeah! If we take credit for the Foundation’s killing game for now…”

“… We can simply expose the truth of the incident later. We’ll face consequences, rightfully, for what we did do. And not only that—we’ll share what happened to us—how Junko messed us up.”

“We can’t let the world think those in despair were responsible for their actions… the brainwashing… What Hope’s Peak did ensure is that we should never have a Hope’s Peak again, but the Foundation didn’t learn from that because they refused to learn—they refused to look away from talents as the ultimate source of all Hope.”

“Especially what they did to you. And to Izuru. Talent shouldn’t ever be made like that again—and the public should know that. Hajime, what they did to you sucked.” Nagito scoffed, placing his hands on the railing.

Hajime laughed, feeling freer the first time in days. He threw his arms around Nagito in their first, real hug, and his ridiculously fluffy hair tickled his nose. Nagito was so, so warm, and this was awesome—why didn’t they hug before? Nagito let out a small, choked noise, before hugging back, gently.

“You’re amazing, Nagito.” Hajime replied, muffled in Nagito’s hair. He let himself enjoy the warmth a little longer, before raising his eyes up to meet Nagito’s.

“… And so are you,” Nagito whispered, his expression peaceful, if not a bit flushed again. Was it the wind?

“Ah, we should probably get inside. But c’mon, let’s find everyone—we got to do something.”

“I-I thought this meeting was tomorrow?”

“Well, now, it’s not.” Hajime let go… a bit regretfully. He would’ve hugged longer, but Nagito was starting to look concerningly red. “Let’s round up everyone from their rooms—I’ll take whoever I find back down into the banquet hall.”

“… Were you also referring to, uh, me?” Nagito looked confused, concerned, strangely flushed, and somehow determined at the same time, before awkwardly pointing to himself.

Sorta cute. Erm, nope, not thinking about it, not thinking about it—

“Yeah, of course.” Hajime agreed, before gently elbowing him. “Who else?”

Nagito gasped, before spinning around, with a new fire of determination within his eyes. He immediately started walking inside, grabbing Hajime’s wrist. Hajime flailed around for a second, shocked.

“Wait—wait, uh, not that fast. You don’t need to rush?” Hajime questioned, still allowing himself to be pulled along for some—no reason.

“I’ll grab anyone I see. Let’s do this. Now.” Nagito was unusually fast now, almost running.

Hajime… felt like he excited him a bit too much, with those words maybe? He sighed, still half-smiling.

“Alright—but jeez… fine. Let me go, I’ll get to the left side.”

“I’ll do the right. Prepare to be amazed by my speed.” Nagito grinned threateningly, before turning around the corner. He let go of his hand, waving goodbye and almost immediately disappearing into the hallway.

Hajime groaned. This guy, seriously…?

… He was the dorkiest dork he had ever seen.

The best one, though. Not that thought, again? Was this puberty or something?

—

The banquet door slammed shut, and with that, Hajime had an entire class of slightly startled, disgruntled, oblivious, or surprised Ultimates. Except for Peko and Fuyuhiko. Hajime had no illusions as to whether anyone could drag them to wherever the pair didn’t want to be.

“Alright, guys. Sorry for the sudden meeting.”

“—Yeah, it was sudden, alright.” Akane grumbled. “Is there any food here? I’m hungry.”

“Oh, yes, here Akane! Would you like to try my—” Teru grinned, before reaching into his pockets.

“Nah. Pass.” She instantly declined. Hajime pointedly stared at the both of them, before slapping his forehead. These kindergarteners.

“—But, Nagito and I had a bit of a revelation regarding the cruise ship’s destination. For Jabberwock, or for going back to Japan. We wanted to ask you guys what you thought about it.

“… I see this couldn’t have waited?”

“Not really… but, I do apologize for getting you guys out here so late.” Nagito chimed in, looking relatively… unapologetic.

“It was perfectly fine! Most of us were just goofing around anyways… I speak for both myself and Mahiru…” Sonia replied, perfectly composed and kind.

“I was just playing pool…”

“I FINISHED TAKING A SHIT.”

“Hajime… just kinda interrupted Imposter and my, uh, anime. It’s okay! This sounds… more important.” Mitarai muttered, looking faintly anxious. Scratch that, very anxious, judging by how much fidgeting he was doing.

“Indeed, commoner. Now—let Hajime and Nagito speak. What do you two propose?” Byakuya-Imposter questioned, folding his arms across his chest.

“Well, to put it simply,” Hajime looked around the room, making eye contact with each of his friends, “We don’t have to choose Jabberwock. Or the Foundation and Japan. Because, there’s a third option—to do both.”

“That would be ideal… indeed. But how?” Sonia questioned, raising herself from her chair.

Nagito nodded, raising a hand to his chin, “We can do so by splitting our time—to go back to Jabberwock now, and to go back to support the rebuilding of the world later on.”

“But—we should just return to Japan fully. If we truly want to support our victims—”

“Princess, that is not allowable by this dark one,” Tanaka turned towards Sonia, raising his eyebrow, “Seeing as that would result in our unfortunate demise, as my visions of the future warn.”

“Tanaka—I understand but, what we did, what I did to my people—” Sonia whispered, obviously heartbroken.

“No one’s dying today. None of us will be sacrificed.” Hajime interrupted, urgently stopping her from turning towards obvious shame, “Because we’ll go to Jabberwock to outwait just that. To let the Foundation stabilize the world, to prevent any further uprisings of Despair right now.”

“And,” Nagito smoothly joined in, “We will still allow the Foundation to take responsibility later. We’ll face our consequences—with the actual good we’ll be able to do, once we’re allowed into the rebuilding of Japan.”

“You’re just going to allow the Foundation to recover then? And then come back? But wouldn’t that undo everything—everything we did that video for?” Mahiru asked, quietly motioning to them all.

“That will undo it,” Peko seriously replied, “But that might be for the best. I do not wish for Fuyuhiko to be viewed as a monster… for that too.” She glanced towards Hajime meaningfully, then stared at Nagito, before she looked away.

Hajime… understood that feeling now. Not wanting someone to be deemed guilty—in reality too.

“I think it’s a great plan, as it lets us not be killed! Or run away, right, Coach?” Akane shouted excitedly. Nekomaru laughed, a booming sort of laughter that shook the room.

“INDEED! HAHA, WE CAN LIVE TO SEE ANOTHER DAY!”

“But what if… we get sentenced to death anyways? After we rebuild the world… and we come back.” Ibuki quietly spoke up, uncharacteristically doubtful.

“Then, we’ll argue our case, and we’ll defend ourselves fairly.” Nagito put his hand on his hip, while narrowing his eyes, “Consequences—we can’t just ignore those. We also have an Ultimate Lawyer here. And the Ultimate Prosecutor, etc. …And I guess Class 78 with the Foundation will probably be willing to lend a hand. After all we’ve done.” He gestured to Hajime, who felt himself blush a little from the embarrassment.

“I’ll do my best… and I’d say, we probably have a fighting chance. Compared to what’ll happen if people find us hiding in Jabberwock, like… idiots.” Hajime sighed, leaning against Nagito’s shoulder. The future sounded tough.

“Ha… yeah… I think that sounds pretty good. And those Monokumas all across Japan, I personally wanna still go back…” Kazuichi responded, looking a bit defeated. Nekomaru patted his back, and almost knocked him over.

“Kazuichi…” Hajime whispered, almost feeling a little proud. He really had grown, huh. “And remember what we resolved at the end of the killing game?”

“We’ll keep on forging our own path to the future, you mean?” Fuyuhiko asked, furrowing a brow. “Of course.”

“Yeah, where we learn from our mistakes?” Akane laughed, emboldened.

“And we won’t hide from our actions.” Nagito’s quiet voice carried across the room, as he met Hajime’s eyes.

“Well, of course, nothing’s over then, right? We’ll have to say how everything happened,” Kazuichi muttered, somber. He raised his eyes towards Tanaka, who, curiously enough, nodded in response. There was definitely a story there.

“Haha… if you think about it, Hope’s Peak—they tried to hide everything, and it came up anyways,” Teru agreed, looking around nervously.

“An’ we can’t let them forget that! We need to remind ‘em of what happens when you do that stuff to talent—when you become Despair like that.” Akane’s mouth was completely full from the snacks, but she somehow managed to talk around it anyways.

“I sincerely agree. We should face our past, present, and future with open eyes—we shalln’t run away!” Sonia victoriously grinned, pointing her finger forward… at Mitarai? Unexpected—but all the more welcome for it, as Mitarai nodded violently.

“To be honest with you guys, I don’t even want to run away. And there’s no way I’m leaving Hajime to clean up our mess alone.” Nagito added, shifting closer to Hajime’s side

“Hehe, looks like lover boy is stuck—”

“Oh, Hiyoko! This is serious,” Mikan sternly reprimanded. She happily glanced at their intertwined hands, “…and we both,” Mikan smiled at Hiyoko, “will go back. To Jabberwock and Japan—Future Foundation—everything.”

“I’m glad. And Hajime,” Nagito peered through his eyelashes mock-shyly, “you’re coming to Japan with me, right? As my best friend?”

“Maybe,” Hajime started, before frowning, “well, actually—that’s a stupid answer. Of course.”

“But… still, thanks.” He whispered.

Did Nagito hear that—well, judging by his hand’s comforting squeeze, he did. And his gentle expression, and his pretty, teasing seaglass eyes—argh.

That bastard was so—ugh. Did best friends usually make each other blush and hold hands? Yeah, probably.

(“The gayest freaking besties I’ve ever seen… and then, they were roommates. Ugh,” Hiyoko grumbled.

“I know, that’s what I said!” Mikan whisper-shouted.)

As if hearing his thoughts, Nagito laughed quietly, before knitting their hands together. It was time to face everything and everyone, and he did feel terrified. His heartbeat was racing, pumping like it had in the trials—Nagito’s fingers were cold with anxiety. But, hey, with Class 77 all together?

Things were gonna be better.

#kmhnsecretexchange #submission #fanfiction #sfw #komahina #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #dr #sdr2 #dr3

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petersbaby · 2 years

Text

Quick little story based on this ask!

Stepbro!eddie x insecure reader

No warnings! Wholesome :)

It was a Friday night, a night where all your friends would go to parties or get drunk but you just wanted to stay in your room and read.

You were always introverted, but have recently been keeping to yourself more than usual. Maybe it was all in your head, but you felt that nobody really wanted to be with you and that they were just keeping you around to be nice.

You had ridden home with Eddie, and went straight to your room after school. He’d been trying to get you to talk to him for a while now, being able to tell that something was wrong and you weren’t quite being your usual self.

Around 8pm, you heard knocking at the door which startled you a little. Then you heard the loud and boisterous chatter and laughing of Eddie’s friends from school; from the hellfire club. You relax again.

You didn’t know if they were here just to smoke weed and drink beer or if they were planning to play D&D.

Evidently, it was the latter, which you see once you walk down to the kitchen as quietly as possible. You crept down the carpeted stairs, trying not to be noticed as you went to get something to drink.

You pour a cup of lemonade and return the rest back to the refrigerator. Even while deep into his game, his eyes dart up to notice you standing there before you could turn to go back.

“Okay, guys, think on that. What will you decide to do next? I’ll be right back.” He rushes to excuse himself from the coffee table they were all gathered around in the living room and came to talk to you.

“You okay, princess? You can’t be so quiet forever.” You nod, and you can tell he does not believe it.

“I’m fine, just…don’t want to bother you. I’d feel bad if I messed up your game.”

“Hey. You’re never a bother to me. Them either, they don’t mind having you around. They actually think you’re pretty cool.”

“…really?” You ask, wondering if he’s just trying to make you feel better.

“Yes really. C’mon, you can sit next to me and watch us play.”

You pick up your cup and shuffle behind Eddie, following him to the living room where he put a pillow from the couch on the floor next to him to sit down. No one else got a pillow, so you felt a little special.

You don’t know much about what’s going on, but you try your best to follow along anyway. When he notices you scrunching your eyebrows in confusion, he leans over to whisper in your ear, explaining what he’s doing.

He’s the party leader after all, he calls all the shots and it’s up to him how the campaign will go.

All the rest do is decide how they will respond to the things Eddie throws at them.

It was actually pretty entertaining, you liked how into it Eddie got, fully immersed and so focused at times that he pokes his tongue out in concentration.

That always made you smile, it was one of his many mannerisms that made him, him. It went on for hours, and by the time they were almost done it was around 11pm.

You had fallen asleep with your head rested on Eddie’s shoulder beside you, looking like just the sweetest angel. While you were fast asleep, the guys started talking about having some beers.

Eddie says he’s down, and that he’ll be back in just a minute. He reached up and pet your head, trying to gently wake you up. Your eyes flutter open and look at him.

“You’re sleepy, huh, princess? Come on, I’ll take you to bed.” He stands up and offers his hand down to you.

You take it, and ride to your feet. He guides you by the hand back upstairs and to your room, where he lifts the covers and you climb under them.

Your eyes flutter shut again, and he brushes some flyaway hairs out of your face with his hand and kisses you on the side of your forehead as you fall quickly back to sleep.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stepbro!eddie #fluff

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aprillikesthings · 7 months

Text

I'm awake, I'm drinking coffee, and I'm waiting for some laundry to get done before I do some homework for my Bible/theology discussion thingie (EfM, for the handful of Episcopal nerds I've become mutuals with) (....who didn't give up tumblr for Lent)

So I might as well watch some She-Ra, right?

s4 ep4 pulse

(Side note I posted a short fic yesterday if you're interested)

PLOT

I've read the synopsis and I'm not sure if there's much I'm gonna screenshot/talk about with this one

does this character have a NAME? I forget

the bit of animation of Double Trouble shifting out of "Flutterina" is pretty great, someone clearly had fun with it

(Do you think it takes effort to stay in another "shape"? Amethyst in SU clearly had to put forth effort the whole time, whereas I think Double Trouble doesn't, other than the acting part.)

"Espionage is a long game, kitten."

Catra is Amused

Double Trouble: "This is supposed to be fun!" Catra: ":( this is supposed to be war" Double Trouble: "No reason it can't be both :)"

Me, A Human in a Non-Fictional Universe: there are many good reasons it should not be both but I suspend them for fiction

Double Trouble literally makes a foreshadowing joke, I love them

...is it all poisonous plants

I mean that does look like foxglove

She's laying it on pretty thick imho

eugh

STOP TOUCHING PEOPLE'S FACES oh my god

are they going to drill down to the Cluster

(how many Steven Universe references am I gonna make by the time I'm done rewatching THIS cartoon)

nope don't like that

I was rereading that one "missing scene" fic that Nate posted and in it Adora talks about how doing the healing thing here is actually fucking exhausting and makes her sore all over. If you were wondering why she doesn't do it all the time.

It also doesn't entirely heal the person in question; they still have to rest a lot!

One person: suggests, even slightly, that the Horde is somehow tracking She-Ra Adora: OBVIOUSLY THIS IS ALL MY FAULT

Meanwhile, Glimmer:

(she also blames herself)

oooooh I forgot

She's talking to Double Trouble but I still cackled

oh god Glimmer goes to Shadow Weaver to ask "how to think like Catra, since you know her best," and while Glimmer isn't wrong in that Shadow Weaver is the only one around (other than Adora) who knows Catra at all, it's just.....eugggghhhh

DUH

Okay the "what do those do" "those are daisies, I find them cheerful" is actually pretty funny

every time she gets into someone's personal space like that it's creepy as shit

....she's not wrong. Part of me is like "lol even Shadow Weaver knows" but tbqfh she probably knows better than anyone considering how much she used their mutual affection to abuse them. >:(

what is it with lesbians and game nights (she says, knowing she bought the boardgames Wingspan and Ticket to Ride as Christmas gifts for a partner) (actually it's been a while since we played I should suggest it again)

"people don't come to game night because YOU insist on serving vegetable platters" okay is this a "lesbians are vegetarians" joke are they gonna mention hummus next lolol

"no one likes vegetable platters!" D: I do (...with hummus, even)

anyway they get surrounded by drill bots, meanwhile Glimmer sneaks up on Catra

"wtf?"

(she literally thinks it's Double Trouble at first lol)

I love it when Catra's just like IMMA BITE

please tell me the Glitra shippers reference this line as often as possible

Poor Adora, Glimmer is straight up like "I will continue using you as a decoy--I mean a distraction :) while I destroy shit" and Adora, well--

This actually reminds me of a conversation on reddit the other day, about how people who've always had happy families (or at least, no truly shitty family members) often cannot wrap their minds around the idea that someone who is nice to them could be an abusive piece of shit to someone else, and you end up in these situations where naive people try to force a reconciliation or pull a "but they're your faaaaaamily" or just straight-up don't believe your version of events, because nobody could be that horrible to their own kids, right???? I don't think that's what Glimmer's doing here but it still sucks for Adora.

"I'll bring back some cake!" lol I forgot about this line when I wrote my fic (linked above) but I'm glad this is canon, that she just raids the kitchen, and specifically for cake XD

ehehehehehhehheh

also we see Catra hand Double Trouble an actual little bag of (presumably) coins, what currency do you think Etheria uses??? Like who sets the standard for it. The most obvious thing would be that it's just coins of some standardized weight of a metal rare enough to be valuable. But it's funny to ask yourself if it's like, the kind of coins with someone's face on it, because whose face would it be?! Because then either the Horde and everyone else would be using different currencies (which would be useless across sides) or they're all using the same currency. Some obscure person from Etherian history, probably.

Also I'm not sure the Horde actually pays anyone. I think it's just "you can get enough to eat (barely), and a place to sleep (sort of), and uhhh you can fight each other over getting a small step up in power"

As usual I am overthinking the world-building here lolll

okay episode over :D time to flip the laundry

#april rewatches spop #pulse

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lightwoodbanethings · 2 years

Text

Next prompt from Hendersdads 25 Days of Steddiemas!

Prompt: Mistletoe

The whole gang had helped Steve decorate his house for the Christmas party and Max had insisted they hang atleast one piece of mistletoe. Steve eventually gave into her after huffing about how it was a stupid tradition and people shouldn’t feel pressured by it. Max had just stuck her tongue out at him and told him not to take it so seriously.

So there, in the archway of the kitchen entrance was a piece of mistletoe.

A few people had got caught under it once the party was in full swing, they either had a little kiss (like Nancy and Jonathan) or some gave a peck on the cheek (such as Eddie and Robin). No one seemed too offended about it and so Steve just forgot about it and enjoyed the party.

Once it got to 10 o’clock the kids of the group started getting picked up or had lifts back home, though Dustin and Mike did not go quietly.

“It’s so unfair, why do you guys get to carry on having fun and we have to go home?!”

“Yeah, we aren’t little kids anymore!”

Steve just put his hands on his hips and gave them a look. They both threw their hands up in a strop and with a big sigh turned around and left. Eddie came up beside Steve laughing.

“They’re such brats” Steve said as he turned to face Eddie.

“Yeah, but they’re your brats.”

Steve just smiled, Eddie was right. They were his brats and he wouldn’t change them for the world….or well, maybe he’d give Mike a slight attitude adjustment.

Steve looked around and realised how quiet it had gotten, “where is everyone else?”

“Jonathan and Argyle are getting high outside by the pool and I think Nance and Robin are giggling on your bed about something or other.”

That made Steve happy, seeing Robin making other friends and being her true self around them. Even if it was his ex-girlfriend, who to be fair he felt like he could also now call a friend. Things had been weird with them after everything with Vecna. But they had a talk and Steve realised that although he loved Nancy, he loved her like a friend. That stage of their relationship had passed and he just wanted her to be happy. He’d just have to find someone else to share his dream of 6 little Harrington nuggets with, though recently his mind had been drifting to one person in particular. Eddie Munson.

They had spent a lot of time together since the whole upside down fiasco. Eddie teased him about his music taste, introduced him to movies he said were masterpieces and talked his ear off about D&D. Steve had helped him with his van, shared his knowledge of cars and even got him to attend some of Lucas’ basketball games. For a long time Steve thought that what he felt for Eddie was just admiration, he loved the way he was with the kids and enjoyed his dramatic flair. But over time he began to realise he had felt this way before, about Nancy.

He had a mini crisis, of course talking to Robin about it all, they had a little cry together and even though Steve was still nervous and scared he knew he couldn’t ignore the way he felt about the metalhead. Steve had no idea if Eddie felt the same but Robin would scoff anytime Steve mentioned it, as though it was blatantly obvious how Eddie felt. He was going to work up the courage to talk to him about it, maybe even ask him on a date. Because he knew that even if Eddie didn’t feel the same way, he wouldn’t judge him or ridicule him. Eddie was safe and Eddie was one of the kindest people he had ever met.

Eddie snapped Steve out of his thoughts by asking him if he wanted a drink, Steve had said yes and followed Eddie towards the kitchen. However, he ended up walking straight into him because the curly haired boy had just stopped suddenly.

He looked at Steve with slight worry in his eyes, but also a hint of something else. Possibly want? Steve furrowed his brows in confusion and just stared at Eddie, he was about to ask what was wrong when he followed Eddie’s gaze to above them. Oh, right. The mistletoe. They were stood right underneath it.

Eddie cleared his throat, “it’s only a stupid tradition, we don’t have to actually do anything about it.”

“Right…and it isn’t like anyone is here to be able to call us out.”

“Exactly…”

Steve expected Eddie to carry on into the kitchen but he didn’t move, he just kept staring at Steve. His eyes occasionally darting down to look at Steve’s mouth. Steve didn’t make a move to leave either and all of a sudden he was wondering if Robin was right. Maybe it was obvious how Eddie felt.

“On the other hand, traditions can be fun.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, like he couldn’t quite believe what Steve had just said. His lips lifted into a smirk and he cocked his eyebrow up.

“You want a kiss pretty boy?”

Steve nervously bit his lip and dared to glance at Eddie’s mouth, “yeah, I do. What you gonna do about it Munson?”

Eddie let out a little laugh and reached out his hand to gently cup Steve’s cheek. Steve felt like his body was on fire and Eddie’s touch felt electric. He looked straight into Eddie’s chocolate doe eyes and then leaned forward, slowly closing his eyes. It didn’t take long before Steve felt Eddie’s lips on his, soft and gentle. Not at all what he would expect from the chaotic man.

Steve felt himself melt into the kiss and then it was over way too quickly. He stared at the beautiful man in front of him, a beautiful blush spreading across his face.

“I think we should do that more often.”

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #fanfiction #steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddiemas #mistletoe #christmas prompt

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prince-rowan-of-the-forest · 2 years

Text

Crown Princes and Butterfly Wings (11/?)

Chapter 10 : Sweet Treats

—-

Logan and Patton spend the night at the festival together and certain things come to light, like the fact that Logan is way too freaking tall, for example.

<- Previous | First | Next ->

@cutebisexualmess :)

—-

Hello hello, sorry for the lack of chapter last week, I had about 200 words of this written by midday last Sunday and didn't have the motivation necessary to write another 2k, so I gave myself another week to get it done.

Things are finally getting somewhere :D

Also!! Now that I posted another fic for my Darkside!Roman AU, I'm going to start thinking about getting that ask blog I mentioned a while ago up and running! So keep an eye out if you're interested :)

----

“Oh isn’t it wonderful!” Patton cried, turning to look up at Logan with a bright grin on his face, Logan smiled back, the stars on his cheeks twinkling in the dusk, “Do you like it?”

“We’ve hardly been here long enough for me to form a valid opinion,” Logan said, stepping in time with Patton, it made him giggle- he wondered if Logan even noticed he was doing it, “I shall inform you later.”

“Ok!” Patton laughed, “Come on, let’s get drinks! Ooh, we could try Selina’s faerie wine, if you’re up for that, if not there’s always Indie’s punch stand- it’s here every year and she has the best fruit drinks-”

“I believe the punch would be preferable,” Logan cut in, swiftly interrupting his oncoming tangent, “I’d rather not be intoxicated by faerie drinks.”

“That’s ok!” Patton nodded, “Come on, let’s go find the stand and then we can have a proper look around!”

Taking Logan’s hand (and trying to hide his blush as he did so) , Patton led Logan further into the festival towards a cluster of stalls selling food and drink. A lot of fae attended this festival compared to others, which Patton knew would normally make people nervous, but there were contracts and deals in place to ensure nothing would go wrong with them, it did seem to be making Logan nervous though even as they approached the stand selling fruit drinks.

“Hey!” Called the faerie running the stand- they were running the vast majority of the food and drinks stands, “Is that you, Pat?”

“Indie!” Patton cheered, pulling Logan over, “Hey! We came back to attend the festival since we were just passing through!”

“Oh that’s lovely!” She grinned, “Who’s your friend? Would you like drinks?”

“You may call me L,” Logan said with a nod of respect, before pausing, “Are the drinks safe?”

“Lovely to meet you, L, you may call me Indie,” She smiled back, reaching across to shake his hand, which she kept hold of as she explained, “The punch table comes with a guaranteed no curses, jinxes, hexes, tricks, traps or hijinks! Except the one at the end, that one got spiked but I’m not sure with what, nothing harmless I assure you but possibly a little funky.”

“Right,” Logan nodded, “That is appreciated, I’ll take the blackberry, apple and pomegranate.”

“I’ll have the strawberry and apple one please Indie!”

Once they had their drinks, Patton turned to Logan and offered his glass for a toast, Logan smiled softly and knocked his own drink against Patton’s.

“A toast to our adventure?” Patton suggested with a smile.

“To our adventure,” Logan returned before taking a sip and sighing, “this is lovely.”

“Oh good! I’m glad you enjoy it!” Patton said before lighting up and squeezing Logan’s hand “Oh! Oh! My brother’s stall is over there! C’mon let’s go say hi!”

—-

After saying hello to Remy and his partner Emile, Patton set about dragging Logan around the rest of the festival. They played a few games and marvelled at some of the hand crafted bits and bobs being sold in stores. They stopped to get their fortunes read by a feline woman with the patternings of a snow leopard draped in flowing fabrics and crystalline jewellery. Patton had giggled when Logan came out of her tent purple in the cheeks with his freckles shining brightly, he couldn’t help but wonder what Logan had been told in there.

For the next half an hour the pair walked together amongst the stalls, stopping to look at anything that attracted their attention. At one point they passed Roman and Virgil. Roman had waved a pear at them before running off, dragging a blushing Virgil with him by their joined hands. Patton laughed.

“I’m glad they’re having fun,” He commented, turning to Logan, who was smiling at him with that little smile of his. Patton offered Logan his hand with a hopeful smile, Logan smiled back and took it carefully.

“Me too,” Logan agreed, before looking back in the direction the other two went, “I wonder what will come of those two.”

Patton couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, right, so Logan could identify a blooming relationship between their friends, but he still didn’t realise that Patton had been flirting with him this entire time.

“What is so funny?” Logan asked, looking confused, gosh Patton just wanted to squish his cheeks, how was his cluelessness so adorable?

“Oh nothing,” Patton said with a smile, “I just think you’re neat.”

“...Right?” Logan said, tilting his head in confusion, “Well- um- I suppose you’re pretty ‘neat’ yourself.”

It took everything Patton had to keep from squealing as he took Logan’s other hand, “Ok, where to next? Would you like to try some of the games? Ooh or there's the magic displays that people will be putting on! And the dancing will start soon too-”

“Magic displays?” Logan asked.

“Mhm,” Patton grinned, “It’s mostly like- people will put on an entertaining show using their magic, I used to help out sometimes with my little lightshow.”

“That sounds interesting,” Logan said.

“Would you like to see it?” Patton asked, already beginning to lead him, he knew what Logan’s answer would be.

“Of course,” Logan replied, just as he had expected.

“Come on then!” Patton led him away, laughing as he went, “It’s this way!”

—-

When the dancing started Patton ended up splitting up with Logan for a while. He’d tried to convince Logan to join him, but he had seemed particularly against the dancing and instead had retreated to sit in a small alcove promising that he’d remain there and keep an eye on their things whilst Patton danced.

It was as lovely as it usually was, the dancing, but Patton somehow found it lacking without a partner. He’d never felt like he’d needed a partner before, he had been more than content with dancing around the massive lit bonfire with strangers, linking arms and spinning in circles until he was dizzy and exhausted in the best way possible. But somehow now it didn’t seem to quite hit that spot he remembered.

After what must have only been fifteen minutes, Patton ducked out of the dancing circle with a glance towards where Logan was sitting. Logan hadn’t noticed him leave the circle, so Patton took the chance to head over to a nearby food stall- he’d grab a cake for them both and then head over and sit with Logan. He smiled to himself, it was a wonderful idea!

Patton grabbed a glazed doughnut filled with blackberry and pomegranate jam for Logan - remembering those were the fruits he’d gotten in his drink - and grabbed a vanilla sponge cupcake with sugar icing for himself before hurrying back over to Logan’s alcove.

“Hey,” Patton called, startling Logan into looking up from his book, he smiled when he saw Patton and marked his page before setting down the book.

“Hello, Patton,” Logan acknowledged him with a nod, “I thought you were dancing?”

“Well- I was dancing but then I kinda started feeling bad because you weren’t with me, so I came back over here,” Patton said, shrugging, “Mind if I sit?”

“Of course,” Logan said, shifting along the bench a little and moving his (incredibly fluffy looking, which Patton really wanted to touch) tail to make space for him.

“Here,” Patton said, offering Logan the doughnut he’d bought him, “It’s got blackberry and pomegranate jam, like your drink, I just kinda guessed you liked those flavours.”

“I do,” Logan nodded, taking the doughnut from Patton, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” Patton smiled before biting into his cupcake, it tasted wonderful, as he had expected. As they ate their sweet treats together, Patton looked back out to the dancing. He was pretty sure he’d spotted Virgil and Roman amongst them, he really hoped they were enjoying it together.

“I apologise for my lack of presence pulling you away from the dancing,” Logan said quietly once he’d finished eating, Patton turned to him, still smiling as he felt he had been possibly all night.

“That’s ok! It’s not your fault and besides, I would rather spend time with you than spin in circles anyway.”

“Really?” Logan asked, looking slightly confused, “Why? You seemed overly excited about the dancing earlier.”

“While I was excited about the dancing, I was more excited about dancing with you than the dancing itself,” Patton explained, “I’ve been going to this festival since I was old enough to walk, Logan, I’ve experienced a fae dance more times than a mortal ever deserves to. I haven’t experienced nearly enough time spent with you, and I probably never will, so- I’d rather do that.”

“Oh,” Logan said, looking down at Patton with an unreadable expression, “I, um, must admit that spending time with you has been enjoyable also, as has the festival itself - you asked for my opinion earlier, and tonight has been wonderful."

"I'm so glad!" Patton smiled, leaning against Logan's shoulder for a second before sitting back up, "I was worried you would be bored."

"Bored?" Logan asked, "This seems like the sort of event where such a feeling would be impossible."

“It is, I guess I was just… worried it wouldn’t meet your expectations.” Patton said, looking away.

“It more than exceeded them.” Logan reassured. Patton smiled at him, big and bright, and they lapsed into comfortable silence. The music was still playing, loud and bright, people were still dancing and talking and enjoying themseleves, but here in their little alcove, it felt like all of the world had come together to give them peace. Logan had reopened his book and continued to read whilst Patton pulled out the bundles of colourful thread he had bought from the spinstress’ stall and began knotting them together to form a bracelet on his lap.

Eventually, though, Logan put down his book and looked up, gently nudging Patton to get his attention.

“It is nearly midnight,” Logan said, had they really been here that long? It really felt like only a few moments, “We should return to the meeting point.”

“Right,” Patton said, carefully packing up his thread and almost complete bracelet into his bag and standing up with Logan by his side. They were about to leave when Patton stopped, “Wait-”

“What is it?” Logan asked, turning around. His stars had dimmed a little, a frown on his face.

“Sorry I- I-” Patton took a deep breath, putting a hand in his pocket to find the little gift he had bought and gathering all the courage he had, “Logan I have had so much fun with you tonight, this festival was- infinitely better spent with you here in this alcove than it would have been out there, and I- I guess I just wanted to– I don’t know the customs well, not for- not for nobles like you anyway, but- I want to attempt to court you, if you will accept me.”

Closing his eyes, Patton held out his hand to Logan, in it was a single pebble, painted with a swirling galaxy of stars. They had passed a stall selling them earlier and Logan had looked interested, so Patton had snuck back and bought this one- because it caught his eye and reminded him so much of Logan- as a gift.

For a terrifyingly long few seconds nothing happened, but then Patton felt Logan’s hand cup his own whilst he took the pebble and- that was a good sign, right? Patton oopened his eyes to find Logan inspecting it whilst still keeping hold of his outstretched hand. Eventually Logan looked back at him, their eyes meeting, Logan’s face was tinted a brilliant magenta.

“I do not have anything to give you in return,” Logan said, voice smaller than Patton had ever heard it, “But- if- if you’ll still want me despite me not being capable of correctly accepting and returning your offer, than, I believe that would be- optimal.”

Patton laughed, turning his hand to take Logan’s properly, “There’s no- there’s no terms and conditions, L, not here. Traditionally yeah you have to exchange gifts but it doesn’t have to be immediate and really you don’t even have to do it at all I just- can I hug you?”

“Of course,” Logan answered, dropping Patton’s hand in order to wrap him up in a tight embrace, Patton melted into it easily, as if this was how it had always been meant to be, when Logan talked Patton could feel the words brushing over his hair, “I will admit I’m- severely uneducated when it comes to romance- courtships and relationships have never been of interest to me- I may require some- guidance.”

“Roman was right, then?” Patton said, pulling back enough to smile up at him but not far enough to let go, “You really noticed nothing?”

Logan looked confused, “What was there to notice?”

Patton couldn’t help but giggle, “Just that I’ve been flirting with you since we left Mirefeld, now let’s go, we wouldn’t want to be late!”

“Wait! Patton- what-” Logan cried as Patton lead him through the crowds back to the food wagon where they had agreed to meet. Patton didn’t stop, but he did slow down a little, “Patton have you- really been making advances this entire time?”

“Mhm,” Patton answered, half turning to face him, “This whole time, you’re very cute when you blush.”

Said blush was very rapidly deepening, Logan’s eyes widened with a realisation, “Is this- is this was Roman wanted us to talk about yesterday?”

“Most likely yes,” Patton nodded.

“Please forgive me,” Logan said, “If it ever felt like I was rejecting you, in that case, romantic feelings are- foreign- to me, and whilst I am certain that is what I am feeling for you, I have only realised that very recently, so- I apologise for my ignorance in the past weeks.”

Patton stopped then, turned and found that - annoyingly - he was too short even on tiptoe to kiss Logan’s cheek. Instead he had to pull Logan down by his shirt to do so, leaving them both blushing even more than they already were.

“It’s ok,” Patton said, letting Logan go, he touched his cheek gently, staring at Patton in disbelief as they continued to walk, “Roman warned me- back when we first left Mirefeld- that you wouldn’t get it straight away, when did you realise?”

Logan went even purple-er and didn’t speak for a moment, “...earlier tonight, after the fortune teller’s tent.”

“Really?” Patton gasped.

“And I only accepted it when you gave me that doughnut before…” Logan murmured, trailing off, Patton laughed, squeezing his hand.

“That’s ok,” Patton said, “I’m just upset I’m too short to kiss you.”

Logan stared at him for a second, before coughing, “You can- always ask me to lean down.”

“Well then,” Patton said, stopping when they finally reached the food wagon, “Roman and Virgil aren’t back yet, so how about that kiss?”

----

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#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #logicality #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #rowans fantasyau #rowans writings #fanfic

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osarina · 5 months

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FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: a series of connected one-shots set in the same universe that can be read as standalones or all together, centered around port mafia member (eventually executive)!reader and dazai's relationship progressing over the years.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: as promised the master list for the universe i’ve been talking about for almost a month now!! they're all in chronological order! and as i said above, can be read as standalones or all together. keep in mind there might be some minor discontinuities but for the most part, there shouldn't be any. although i might adjust things here and now as i get new ideas so keep that in mind!

WORLD OVERVIEW

an overview of pm!reader’s ability/background/general world building for those curious

AND WHEN I'M BACK I YOKOHAMA | AGE 16

with the team sent to escort you back to the port mafia headquarters obliterated, you're on your own in a war-torn yokohama. or, well, you are until mori sends out the infamous double black to retrieve you... you almost wish he would've let you suffer out there alone.

IN A SKY FULL OF STARS, I SEE YOU | AGE 16

dazai is on the verge of falling apart. he can feel it happening, it's just a matter of whether or not he's going to be able to get out of your apartment before you come back and catch him like this. he has the opportunity for it—he does—but when he realizes that you might be in just as bad of a state as he's in, dazai decides to swallow his pride and put aside his own struggles to try to help you in the same way you've helped him in the past.

CHAMPAGNE KISSES | AGE 16

in a desperate attempt to try to get you to drink with him, dazai offers up a secret he's never told anyone... and how could you possible refuse that? AKA the first kiss fic.

SOMETIMES ALL I THINK ABOUT IS YOU (LATE NIGHTS IN THE MIDDLE OF JUNE) | AGE 17

realizing you have no idea when dazai's birthday is, you and chuuya embark on a massive quest to figure it out. and you do—but you also find out something far more worrying in the process, making you question if you ever really knew dazai osamu. the issue? you have no way of bringing it up to him. but you'll have to worry about that later anyway. first things first: you have to plan a birthday that dazai will never forget.

YOU'VE BEGUN TO FEEL LIKE HOME | AGE 17

dazai is not as slick as he thinks he is, and you let him get away with way too much. OR, dazai realizes the only place he feels comfortable enough to sleep is at your side, but god forbid he vocalizes that.

YOU AND ME (ALWAYS FOREVER) | AGE 18

more than friends, not quite lovers. that's been your relationship with dazai osamu for as long as you can remember. you didn't want to push him, and you gave him plenty of chances, but there's only so long you can wait for someone. you thought you would be better off moving on—you were wrong, of course.

MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE NEVER BEFORE | AGE 18

your patience is thinning. despite having a conversation with dazai and being led to believe everything is okay, he's suddenly avoiding you again. luckily, or maybe unluckily, his hand is forced when he realizes that you're not waiting for him this time. whether he likes it or not, this confrontation is happening—except you slowly realize as it goes on that dazai's definition of intimacy is dreadfully different from yours.

WICKED LOVE WILL LEAVE ME BLIND | AGE 18

dangerous games are played between you and dazai during one of the most important events of the year for the japanese underworld. you're never this risky, not when your reputation is on the line, but fuck being near him just seems draw out all of the worst in you.

DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS | AGE 18, POST-DEFECTION

seven months after his defection, you run into dazai osamu by sheer chance. you know in your heart what you should do—traitors are to be disposed of, regardless of any previous relationship you might've had with them... but can you bring yourself to do what must be done? or will you be more driven by the questions you desperately need answered?

KNOW IT'S FOR THE BETTER (ALL I WANTED WAS YOU) | AGE 19

he can't stop himself from calling; you can't stop yourself from answering. he never speaks, but he doesn't have to—just knowing he's there is enough to lure you in. that's how it remains for weeks. that is until you mention that you're going on a risky mission and dazai has to to make an equally risky decision to keep you safe.

HE'S THE SERPENTINE, HE'S MY COLLAR | AGE 22

you're finally back in yokohama after spending three years abroad dealing with mori's foreign business. the last person you want is to see dazai osamu, the wounds of his abrupt betrayal still too fresh for comfort. unfortunately, he decides to take matters into his own hands by showing up at your office in the middle of the night

I LAUGH LIKE ME AGAIN (SHE LAUGHS LIKE YOU) | AGE 22

four years apart and the ultimate question is about to be answered: do you and dazai really still know each other, or are you clinging to a fantasy of the past? you decide to put it to the test with a game of wits and questions when dazai gets back to your apartment—but as the game drags on, dazai starts to wonder if maybe he was wrong. worse, if maybe he would prefer to be wrong.

GOOD OLD FASHIONED LOVER BOY/KILLER QUEEN | AGE 22

summary: to be added

NOT CONNECTED

WASTELAND, BABY! | CIVILIAN!DAZAI

one chance encounter at a bar with a fourth year literature student sends your life spiraling in a way you never could've expected. you're not going to let this go far (you're lying).

PLEASE DON'T GO, I'LL EAT YOU WHOLE (I LOVE YOU SO) | AGE 17

summary: to be added, may 7

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bsd smut #dazai smut #dazai osamu smut #bungo stray dogs smut

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not-bcring · 1 year

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When you were out on the ice, it was easy to forget just how dangerous hockey had the potential to be, the padding and rules, rules, rules that were drilled into your mind draping a blanket of faux security over every game, up until something inevitably went wrong. Padding couldn't cover every inch of their bodies, helmets could only stop so much damage when slammed into the boards, and rules were only useful when other people followed them. For as temperamental of a player as Pavel was, he always stayed within the rules. Not the official rules, but the unspoken ones amongst the players. Don't go after the rookies, don't touch the goalies, when someone's knees hit the ice, the fight is over; all of these weren't written in that big fancy book that was so often thrown at Pavel for his "aggressive" plays, but he followed them none the less. It was hockey, they were supposed to get hit, to go sliding into the boards, to get cuts and bumps and bruises, it was just how the game went. Every so often, though, there was that one moment of dominos falling in just the right way that led to a suffocating all-stop in play even without a whistle being blown, Pavel had seen it a few times, but never had he been center ice when the lights were knocked out, one moment it's a routine fight, and the next... Well...that he didn't know, couldn't know, the D-Man being on the ice one minute, and a hospital room the next, the lights dimmed and the beeping of the machine at his side the only thing that told him he was even still alive. With the way he felt, maybe that in of itself was a miracle... "Гавно...what happened?" His voice was rough, barely above a whisper, but still it seemed to catch the attention of someone in the room, Pavel able to see movement out of the corner of his eye in the low light, but not able to make out the face. "I feel like death." Maybe that's because he died, not that he would know that. Only for a few minutes, but clinically dead all the same. //what if i Forced ronan to admit to the Gay by literally fucking killing pasha for a sec because someone took a fight too far 🤔 - ✩ 「 @the-ultimate-muses 」 ✩

「 ☆ 」 Ronan has a complicated relationship with... hockey.

It's brutish. It's bewildering. It's beautiful... in a begrudgingly-admitted way. Not that Ronan has been bold enough to do so. Out loud. No matter how consistently he came to the games. What had begun layered in excuses of ❛ assessing ❜ the players' skating skills, slowly turning into an apparent fascination with what OTHERS could possibly see in it, to... Well, he never actually voiced any other excuse reason aside from that judgmental position. Now, more than almost anything, he wishes he had.

Did Pasha believe his excuses? Or did he know Ronan was there because the figure skater wanted to see HIM? To support him. Normally Ronan's fervent prayers ( to a God he doesn't think exists ) are for the other man to remain oblivious to his true feelings intentions. Mortified at the mere thought of being found out by Pasha. But now, trapped in the sterile indifference of a hospital room, nothing but the steady blessed beeping of a machine breaking the silence, he wants nothing more than for Pasha to see right through him.

Part of him wonders if it's because he's STILL terrified of having to say it himself... Fists clenched on his thighs, white-knuckled grip trembles as Ronan stares, unseeing at the floor. Glaring as if it's the reason Pasha is here, eyes brim with a fresh round of bitter tears. A familiar sting blurring his gaze, he doesn't bother wiping them, figuring that it'll be some time before anyone was around to witness. Heaviness pulling at his body, Ronan prepares himself to push past another wave of exhaustion. Not having left the others side since the incident, nor accepting any offered food or drink, Ronan is starting to regret his stubbornness. Sick as his stomach may be, maybe he should have at least taken some water... No. He would have only thrown it up.

He always has trouble keeping things down in hospitals. Ever since he was hurried to one after he was attacked by— ... There hadn't been anyone waiting for him when he woke up. There were more important things to do than wait around for someone who couldn't compete. Just an empty room and a headache-inducing beeping. He doesn't know how fiercely Pasha's head may be pounding when he awakes ( Ronan had felt like someone was splitting his skull in half ) but he can at least ensure that the other man doesn't wake up alone... Since he's actually GOING to wake up.

Pasha is actually going to wake up.

Pasha is waking up.

Breath catching, Ronan nearly slips off his seat at the other's voice. Even that hoarse whisper breaking past the deafening storm within his mind. Breathing heavily, wide eyes focus on Pasha. Frozen in place, it feels as if time has stood still, Ronan only now realizing that he's been sitting here for hours and yet didn't use ANY of that time to figure out what he'd say when Pasha woke up. Abruptly hit with an overwhelming terror, he considers rushing out of the room before Pasha can realize who is there. But just as quickly as the urge strikes, it retreats and is replaced with something far stronger and more troublesome. ❝ Y—You're awake... ❞

Voice is equally weak, albeit stolen by emotions instead of the physical trauma Pasha has gone through. Although Ronan looks seconds away from collapsing; bedraggled as he looks at his injured crush friend Pasha with tired and glossy eyes. ❝ You... You— ❞ He croaks, shakily standing as a hand tentatively reaches toward the other before retreating to clench against his own chest. ❝ You.... ASSHOLE! ❞

Bristled in pain turned false rage, Ronan rushes to the side of the bed and grips the edge of it. Too scared to touch Pasha directly, death-grip holds onto the side of where he lays, fingers aching from the force of his trembling hold. ❝ Do you know how scared I was?! What you PUT ME THROUGH?? You can't just— You- You... You're such a JERK! ❞ Ronan scolds through a pained voice, thick with emotion as he fights to see past tears. Falling down his face, they leave glistening trails of truth shame on soft skin. ❝ Y-You're not allowed to DO that... You— You're not allowed to leave... ❞

Knowing full well that he's being irrational... emotional.... likely confusing as Hell; Ronan still can't stop. Words overwhelmed by the sobs barely choked back in his throat, he closes his eyes as if that may bring everything to a halt. Cloaking himself in a darkness that doesn't change anything, he keeps them shut and fights back the way he wants to fall on his knees. To sink into the ground and let it overtake him. Or worse... to fling his arms around Pasha and never let go. To crawl into that stupid hospital bed and lay beside him. To forget any of this ever happened. To forget what he had felt when— What he had thought... What he had feared.

Ronan really shouldn't be here...

Be he WANTS to be.

Foolish and agonizing and harmful ( to both of them ) as it may be, he wants to be here... and he wants Pasha to know WHY. 「 ☆ 」

#(( *SHOVES THIS BACK @ YOU* ))#not-bcring #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴍʏ ꜱᴏᴜʟ ɪꜱ ꜱᴘɪʀᴀʟɪɴɢ ɪɴ ꜰʀᴏᴢᴇɴ ꜰʀᴀᴄᴛᴀʟꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ❞ ¦ 「 Ronan IC 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴇꜱᴛɪɴʏ ʟɪᴇꜱ; ᴅᴀɴᴄɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇꜱ ❞ ◌ ᴜʟᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴇɴᴛ ᴅᴇᴠ. ᴀᴜ ¦ 「 Ronan 」#the-ultimate-muses #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴜʟᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴅᴇꜰᴇɴꜱᴇᴍᴀɴ ❞ ¦ 「 Pavel 」#♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴀ ʙᴀᴅ ɪᴅᴇᴀ; ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛᴀʏ ❞ ¦ 「 Ronan and Pavel 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴏʙᴛᴀɪɴᴇᴅ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ꜰʀᴀɢᴍᴇɴᴛ ❞ ¦ 「 Answer 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴅɪɴɢ ᴅᴏɴɢ; ʙɪɴɢ ʙᴏɴɢ: ᴀ ʙᴏᴅʏ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏᴠᴇʀᴇᴅ! ❞ ¦ 「 Queue 」

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eyesofcuriosity · 1 year

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A-Z. Take time, I'mma make some coffee.

A ─ After care. Do they take care of each other after sex ? How ?

Most certainly, I do imagine Law would be quite attentive, while Nessa would also cuddle up to him, maybe suggest a shower or bring some refreshing drinks!

B ─ Breeding. Is this one of their kinks ? Do they often have unprotected sex ? Have they ever had any pregnancy scares ?

That is something she doesn't see as a kink at all, but is open to having a family when they feel they are ready for it. If they are hey, she has already nurturing side to her.

C ─ Condoms. Do they use them ? Do they have a preference ( color, flavour, etc… ) ? Have they ever had an accident ? Would they continue anyway, if they’ve forgotten/run out of them ?

Until they decide they want to expand their family, yes condom is a must and she honestly has no big preferences for them.

D ─ Dreams. A wet dream my muse has had about yours, and whether they’d want to make it come true.

Honestly she doesnt have such kind of dreams often, and if she does well she either acts on them when they got the time or just forgets and moves on with her day.

E ─ Experimenting. Are they willing to experiment new things ? Is there something they’d like to try with their partner, but haven’t had the chance yet ?Any experiments gone wrong?

In most situations, she is quite open to exploring, of course depending on what the experiment is and other variables.

F ─ First time. How was their first time together ? Was any of them nervous ?Did it live up to their expectations ?

Tensions were high for sure, especially on her side she wouldnt really notice if he was the same unless he might stumble a bit. She personally goes without expectations and goes with the flow enjoying the moment as much as possible!

G ─ Games. Do they play any games involving sex ( like adult board games, throwing dice to decide what’s their next position, engaging in roleplay, food play, etc… ) ?

That is a big maybe, but honestly, I don't think she would be extremely into it, something like sex for her should happen spontaneously.

H ─ Humour. Are they the kind to share a laugh during sex ? Has something funny already happened to them ( breaking the bed, one of them falling off the couch, funny noises, etc… ) ?

IF something funny does happen she will giggle and maybe tease him a bit, but usually, she does get a bit giddy if both are equally excited.

I ─ Infidelity. Has any of them ever cheated on their partner ? Whom have they cheated with ? If not, is it something they could do ? If yes, have they told them or has the other found out ? Could they forgive and forget ?

Nope, she is extremely loyal to the core and I imagine he would be very much the same. IF cheating would happen yeah no she would cut that off and go cry in the corner or focus her attention on something else forever.

J ─ Jewellery. Do they own any sexy jewellery ( like butt plugs with rhinestones, piercings in intimate areas, cock rings, collars, etc… ) ? What do they think about it ?

Maybe a pair of choker necklaces but other than that I dont think so.

K ─ Kissing. How important are kisses in their relationship ? Any favourite kind of kisses ? Do they have any rituals involving kissing ( never leaving for work without kissing the other, always sharing a kiss goodnight, etc… ) ?

Very important, a day has to start with a kiss and end with one as well!

L ─ Lingerie. Do they enjoy wearing it and/or seeing their partner in lingerie ?What kind of lingerie do they find the sexiest ? Any other clothing they love seeing their partner in ( like grey sweater pants, wearing nothing but an apron, really short shorts, etc… ) ?Do they often wear what the other likes, just to please them?

Underwear is not that important, though if he has some nerdy briefs she finds it cute. Other than that she loves seeing him in the coat and the slightly buttoned-down shirts.....~

M ─ Masturbation. Do they engage in it ? Together or alone ? Do they enjoy watching their partner masturbating ? Do they use any toys, or just their hands ?

Not so much by herself, watching it depends honestly......does like if he teases her with his skilled hands however~

N ─ Nudes. Do they send them to each other ? Do they save them on their phones ? Do they keep them to themselves, or do they show them to their friends ? Have they ever sent one to a wrong number ?

No nudes on her phone, only maybe few of his shirtless pics :P

O ─ O’clock. What time do they usually have sex ( mornings, late at night, during lunch break, etc… ) ? Are they usually in a rush, or do they take their time ? How about on weekends / holidays ?

Most of the time she does prefer at nighttime, slow and easy. But at times early morning is great for sudden quickies....depends if they got the time though

P ─ Public. Have they ever done it in public ? Were they caught ? Do they have a favourite public place to do it ?

Maybe? But it would have to be well hidden and not too much on the open, like beach, behind curtains, clothing shop or a library :>

Q ─ Questions. Is there anything they’d like to ask their partner, but never had the courage to ? Any questions they’d rather avoid ? Do they discuss everything as a couple, or are there any taboo themes ?

I reckon no taboo? They would try to be open with each other as much as possible.

R ─ Recording. Have they ever filmed themselves having sex ? Did they watch it together afterwards ? Has anyone else seen their videos ?

NOOOPEEEE

S ─ Spanking. Is this one of their kinks ? If yes, who’s the spanker and who’s the spankee ? Any favourite positions ? Do they use just the hand or any other spanking implements ( like the paddle, belt, whip, hairbrush, etc… ) ?

She does actually enjoy it, not too harsh of course, preferably with his palm only she loves to feel his touch. And over his knees of course~

T ─ Turn ons & offs. What do they do to turn each other on ? Is there something the other does that turns them off ?Have they told them about it ?

Lots of teasing, suggestive clothing and mannerism perhaps :>

U ─ Unusual. What’s the most unusual place they’ve had sex at/in ? Was it a good experience ? Would they repeat it ?Is there an unusual place they’d like to try ?

Not there yet but she is open to exploring new location as long as its not too public....th othey would have fun in the submarine???

V ─ Video call. Have they ever shared a sexy moment with each other during a video call ? What were the circumstances ( long distance, trying to cheer up/tease the other while at work, etc… ) ? Did they enjoy it ?

Dont think they would do it in op world, she would feel weird using den den mushi for that

W ─ Walk of shame. Has one of them ( or both )ever done a walk of shame ( trying to leave the place the other shared with roommates/family members unnoticed but being caught ) ? How was it ? What were the reactions ?

She never did, Law however....who knows :P

X ─ X-rated. Do they watch any x-rated movies ( porn ) ? Together or alone ? Do they have a favourite type ? Do they try to reenact them afterwards ?

Shes not super interested in them would rather spend time with him in other ways and outside bedroom as well.

Y ─ Yucky. Is there something they find particular disgusting or unpleasant in regards to sex ? Something they’d absolutely refuse to do, even if the other really wanted it ? Have they already denied the other some kinks because of this ?

Anything scat related is just gross ok

Z ─ Zones. What are their most erogenous zones ? Does their partner know all of them ? Do they make sure to stimulate each other in said zones ?

Oh he will find them out eventually....but for now it would be her earlobe, breasts and hips :>

#answered #about muse #cxnsolatio #:>#sinday

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bitegore · 2 years

Note

For the Meme for Fic Writers questions

4, 11, and 20 (:

omg i totally missed this, sorry

4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

[shrieks]

AT LAST COUNT i had 100+ fics in the actual oven cooking and more wip ideas aside. That was a month ago. So probably like. Double that or some shit.

and sure i'll share one. I'm working on a barely-a-fic-mostly-a-game fic wherein you play Vortex in a choice based novel running around deliberately trying to get on Motormaster's nerves. This is all for the sake of it being really funny to get on Motormaster's nerves.

Check out this intro text lmao

Motormaster is the leader of a team of Decepticons known as the Stunticons. All five of them are loose-cannon losers who talk so big they could never possibly hope to live up to what they claim. Motormaster in particular has a temper on him like a stick of dynamite someone left in a furnace-- explosive, dangerous, and liable to go off basically without provocation. It is really fucking funny to set him off, because it's so easy and you can do it so often without him getting wise. Trouble is that he will then beat you up. That objectively just makes it funnier as long as there's something wrong with you. Your name is Vortex. This is the best thing that's ever happened to you.

11. Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

I don't actually know how to answer this. Yes and no? I can't not write, but writing isn't going to be my life and I'm not making it be so. I don't want to live off my writing, I want to have a job that pays real money so I can eat. You know? It's a fun hobby because I will force it to stay that way by beating it back with a baseball bat if needs be. It is never graduating from its position as thing that I do for fun.

But like, no, I can't not write, it's not just a hobby any more than art is for me. But it's still a fun hobby. I don't know. I'm not really sure what the definition for "my passion" is, either- I'm passionate about everything.

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions.

I am not expected to do anything for the day

It is warm enough that I can sit still without my feet getting cold

I have easy access to sugary drinks, caffienated or not doesn't matter, and they are warm (ie: tea, coffee, hot cocoa)

I have an idea I like and I've slept well enough to think words with my brain

I have music I like that I can listen to as opposed to music I find boring as fuck to listen to (this only happens like once every three days because I get bored of music so fast lately)

Something is happening in my house but I am not obligated to care, so that if I get bored I can go get up and say hi to someone in the kitchen and then go back to writing

There's easily-made food in the house

My computer is okay with being moved from room to room and i have more than one room to go hang out in

Someone is online on the internet that I can send snippets to without having to talk to them for more than 20 minutes and lose The Juice

my hands don't hurt and i don't have a headache

I know these are the ideal conditions because these are the conditions under which i can write 5000+ words and 10+ stories in one sitting and not feel drained at the end. Do you know how difficult that is? It is not easy lmfao. I've genuinely optimized that shit. this is why i write so much more during the summer even barring school- discomfort makes it way harder for me to write and the cold is always discomfortable for me lmfao

Questions list can be found here :D

#red replies #annoyinglyfanon #fic questions ask game

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asktherexsquad · 2 years

Text

Rex Vanishes

Note: THIS IS NOT CANON!!! I'd just always wondered how it would go if the Rex Squad had to deal with what happened to canon Rex in the Lego movie 2 with their own Rex. Well, now we all know, it's this:

No one knew at what time Rex had slipped away.

With all the revelry it was hard to blame them, but of course blaming themselves was just what they did.

The squad had spent the whole day celebrating their shared birthday, and the festivities had lasted long into the night. Good food, sightseeing, basking in their accomplishments, games, desserts, drinking, gifts of weapons and maps and tools... they all were kept busy. It was possible they'd assumed Rex had gone to the bathroom and it had gone long. Their communicators never gave them any indication that something was wrong. But how could it have detected... that? How could any of them have known?

How could they have known that Skywalker would wander into a storage room to get more plates, only to find Rex collapsed on the ground, sobbing quietly, one of his legs missing?

---

Rem and Rocket burst into the room mere moments after Skywalker gave her distress call, frantically scanning the room... It didn't take them long to find what they were looking for.

Rem gave a sharp cry and clapped his hands to his mouth, Rocket teetered dangerously and had to lean against one of the shelves for support.

Rex was laying on the ground in front of them, propped up against Skywalker's body as she curled around him, stroking her snout that rest on his singular thigh, staring blankly at his semi-transparent hand as it moved over her.

His entire left leg was missing. The place where his body continued at his waist was strangely blurred, as if his body were turning into a still fog at the line where his body disappeared.

"... Rex..." Rem whispered, tears welling up in his eyes.

Rex barely seemed able to acknowledge they were there, despondent eyes flicking over both of them before landing on his fading right hand as it lay on Skywalker again.

He wasn't crying anymore, though his eyes were still red... His expression looked so empty.

Rem and Rocket slowly crouched in front of man and raptor, their eyes also locked on his hand. To their horror, as they watched, it faded away completely, the invisibility spreading from his fingertips and over his palm. Rex slowly lifted the blurry stump of his arm, turning it this way and that, as if examining it would make his hand reappear.

"What's happening, Rex??" Rem suddenly cried, making Rex jump, shaking him out of his daze.

Rex's wide eyes landed on Rem, the tears streaming down his cheeks as he desperately waited for an answer, then over to Rocket, pale and trembling and frightened in a way Rex had never seen him before.

"... I'm sorry," was all Rex could manage, before his tears began again in earnest.

All at once Rex was sobbing, hunched over Skywalker, using his arms to hide his face. "I-I'm sorry...!! I d... I didn't want you to see this...!!!"

"Rex, please, stop hiding...!" Rocket choked out, reaching over and grabbing his arms. Rex froze, trembling, but didn't fight Rocket as he gently lowered them. He couldn't bring himself to look up at their heartbreaking expressions.

"... Rex..." Rocket said in a quiet, broken voice, stroking his cheek with a hand. "... Talk to us. What's happening...? And why? Please Rex, we want to help you..."

Rem nodded silently, not trusting himself to speak through his tears.

Rex swallowed hard, trying to regain control of his voice.

"... I... I thought... I thought I'd escaped. I thought I... I thought we had... m-made something new." Rem and Rocket stayed silent, waiting for him to elaborate. Rex stared at his arm as more of it began to fade, panic creeping into his voice. "... Time... isn't a straight line. Rocket is proof of that. I... I thought Rem and I were safe. That he... That he wouldn't have to become me for me to... to continue to... to exist." Rex's face crumpled with despair again, and he barely got his words out through his sobs. "I-I.... I thought... w-we would be okay...!!"

Realization quickly turned to horror on Rem and Rocket's faces, Rem turning away to hide another sob.

This was all his fault...!!

Rex looked up at his anguished sound, eyes wide with regret. "Rem, no, please--" He reached out with the hand he still had, and Rem quickly reached out to take it, squeezing him desperately. "Rem, I never wanted you to become me. If you did, I... I would have lost you forever. You wouldn't be Rem anymore... And you would have to go back like I did, and... and I'd... I'd never see you again." He squeezed Rem's hand, trembling from the effort of holding back his tears. "I knew... That it was possible that I could disappear. But... I didn't care...! I still don't care!!! Rem, all I wanted was you...!!! I couldn't give you up for my own sake!!!"

Rem shook his head, taking Rex's hand in both of his and holding it to his lips. "Rex... But n-now I'm losing you...! D-did you think about how I'd feel?? This... This isn't fair, Rex...!!"

Rex gave a watery laugh, turning away and watching the last of his upper arm disappear, before closing his eyes. "... I guess... this is my last dick move, huh...? Had to... make you both cry one last time."

Rocket shook his head, leaning over Skywalker to grab Rex by the shoulders. "Rex, don't you talk like that, we can still fix this...! You're not gone yet, we can... we can transport your brain into a computer!! And then we can build you a robot body, and it'll be like you never left us!!! We can still--"

Rex silenced him with a look, Rocket's words dying in his throat. And suddenly he couldn't breathe, his breaths coming as desperate, shallow gasps as tears streamed down his cheeks. "... You... You can't leave us, Rex...! It's still too soon...!!"

"No, this... This was always my time limit." Rex pulled his hand free from Rem's, and now they could see that one has begun to fade as well. "Nothing we could have done would have stopped this. If the flow of time decided it wanted me gone... Then there's nothing we can do."

"That's bullshit!!" Rem snapped, making Rex give a start. Before Rex could comment on his foul mouth, Rem went on. "You said it yourself, time isn't a line! So it isn't a loop either! I... I shouldn't have to go back to keep you!! That...! That doesn't make sense!!! You changed history by coming back for me! You never had someone go back for you!! So why...?! This is all bullshit!! I...!!" Rem buried his hands in his hair, giving an anguished wail. "This isn't fair!!!"

Rex squeezed his eyes shut, unable to bear the pain of Rem's despair. "I... I know... I know!! But... All this time I thought... I thought we were safe, I... I'm so sorry...!" Rex stared at his hand again, his frustration making it tremble slightly. "I guess it... It was too much to ask that I be allowed to live without fear with you two... All I wanted was... was to be happy with you."

Skywalker pulled her head aside, and like she'd suspected, Rem and Rocket instantly moved forward, throwing their arms around their co-captain, their partner... Their Rex.

Rex clung to Rem desperately with his one remaining arm, eyes wide as he stared off into the distance. "... I... I'm so scared. I don't know what's going to happen to me. Or to any of you. I... I'm scared...!"

Rem nodded in understanding, giving a hiccuping sob as he nuzzled into Rex's hair. "I know... I am too...!"

Rocket buried his fingers in Rex's shirt, shaking slightly. "... F-for all we know... M... Maybe this isn't the end, maybe... Maybe you're just... being sent s-somewhere else...!" Rocket gave a juddering exhale, hiding his face in Rex's neck. "... Promise me... Promise me you'll come find us... Promise me you'll try to come back...!"

"I promise Rocket..." Rex whispered, feeling the pressure ease as his other arm disappeared completely, no longer able to hold them. "I promise that as long as I have breath in my body I'll be on my way back to you."

Rocket nodded slightly, leaning back, letting his arms go slack. "... Good. We'll be waiting for you."

"We'll be looking for you, too...!" Rem promised, giving Rex a squeeze. "We're not powerless here, we... We won't stop looking for you, alive or dead!!"

Rex gave a watery laugh, turning to kiss the top of Rem's head. "Is that a threat...??"

"It's a promise!!" Rem yelled into his shoulder, squeezing him tightly.

Rex saw the toe of his boot starting to vanish as well, and he had to close his eyes at the sight. "... I promise too. I promise... I'll always... always be yours..no matter what."

Rem took Rex's face gently in his hands, leaning in to kiss him.

It hurt.

When Rem leaned back Rocket was instantly there to take his place, his hand on Rex's cheek guiding their lips together, for one last bit of tender contact.

He'd never felt this much pain before.

"Lay me back," Rex said quietly, closing his eyes.

Rocket nodded, guiding him to lay down beside Skywalker as his leg disappeared completely, and the blur began to spread up his torso. The large raptor have a sad croon as her own tears fell, gently nosing Rex's cheek, making him give a chuckle that sounded more like a sob.

"Sky... You tell the other raptors how much I love them. You guys... were the family I never had. You guys take care of each other," he said in a watery voice, giving her a wobbly smile.

[We will...] Skywalker said softly, closing her eyes as she curled around him.

Rocket and Rem leaned over Rex, eyes locked on his face, not letting themselves look down at the nothingness as it consumed his body.

"I love you, Rex," Rem said quietly.

"I love you too. So much," Rocket echoed. "And we'll see you later, okay...? I promise you that we'll see each other again."

Rex nodded, swallowing hard as he felt that terrifying nothing envelop his chest.

What would happen after this? Where would they go? What would any of them do???

"I don't... I don't wanna go," Rex muttered, wide eyes locking on the ceiling. "There's... There's so much I haven't done, I... I'll miss you all too much...!"

"Which is why you gotta come back, okay?" Rem choked out. "You gotta come back, so we can do it all...!!"

"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Rex whispered, closing his eyes. It was happening so fast now, his neck was gone, he couldn't feel it, he was...

His eyes locked on Rem and Rocket's faces, tracing over them desperately, burning them into his mind. "... I love you."

"We love you too," Rem said in a voice barely more than a breath.

"Always will, you jackass," Rocket whispered, giving him a wobbly smile.

Rex nodded slightly, relief crossing his expression.

They loved him.

Everything would be okay.

They loved him...

He closed his eyes, sighing out one final breath...

and let time take him.

#ficlet #rex squad au #rex vanishes au #rem brickowski #rocket rex #alt rex #not plot #lena says stuff

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sombreboy · 4 years

Text

the alpha⇢hybrid!pjm

⤍18+ ⤍pairing: wolf!hybrid Jimin x human!female reader ⤍genre: pwp smut, hybrid, stranger fuck ⤍word count: 8.5k ⤍warnings: sub!y/n, dom!pjm, profanity, drinking, blowjob, jimin’s compliment kink knows no bounds, he calls you little lamb a lot, degdrading names, unprotected sex, creampie/knotting, light impreg kink, mating, rough fucking, licking, torrential downpour of cum.

A/N: Co-written with lovely @ppersonna as an rp. ♡

So why were you dressed up like a bitch in heat, entering the exact club you tried so hard to avoid? Because, deep down, it’s all you wanted. You knew that deep down you desired someone strong and powerful, someone superior to you, to take and claim you as their own—their plaything.

The city never sleeps. A saying that has been true for the past century, and it remains true til this day, where humans and hybrids now coexist as equals. Well, as equal as it gets. Hybrids were a superior species with their mixed genetics, gaining attributes from said animals that they have in them. Whether it be stronger bodies, beautiful patterns and physical alterations– they were seen as the greater species. But yet humans managed to keep up, somewhat. It wasn’t that much different. Park Jimin is one of those hybrids. His genetics were intertwined with that of a white wolf, giving his hair a bright blonde color. However, he had it dyed not too long ago, so the color was instead a washed out purple mixed into his blonde curls. His irises were a bright orange, pupils as black as the leather jacket and pants he wore. One wouldn’t think he looked terribly intimidating at a first glance, but his stare could make anybody feel a shiver run down their spine from the sheer intensity of it.

He was the alpha, after all.

Jimin spent every single night at a nightclub that was famous specifically for being dominated by the predatory hybrids. Lions, tigers, snakes, foxes… Wolves. Jimin’s pack was the hybrids that people came for most of the time.For what, you may ask? To get thoroughly fucked without mercy, of course. But that was only possible if you caught their interest, or you’d have to settle for the snake.

Jimin’s pack consisted of three other wolf hybrids… Hoseok, the beta. Which practically means he’s one rank below Jimin, who is the leader. The other two hybrids are Namjoon and Yoongi, who are one rank below Hoseok, making them the deltas. They don’t care, they are content to just follow along with what their leader says, but are often given their own choice to do however they please either way. Together, they form quite the diverse group, and they were notorious and alluring for newcomers and common faces.

Jimin loved it, the dark, crowded underground venue, flashing lights, alcohol… And humans. More often than not, only hybrid women came by. Rich ones. Easy to spot. But what truly had the wolf riled up, was when a human would stumble in. Their scent was an entirely different game. He allowed his pack to separate, but never going too far as they headed to find their own prey for the night, while Jimin himself remained still, leaning against the bar counter with a pink, sugary drink in his hand, straw tightly pressed between his plushy, glossy lips.

It was time to hunt.

You weren’t sure what came over you—what drew you to the idea of leaving your cozy and safe, structured life and entering the dark unknown. The nightclub was somewhere you previously steered clear of, even crossed the street to avoid being next to it when walking by. It was decidedly not your scene, and the idea of the strong, intuitive hybrids sent a chill down your spine.

So why were you dressed up like a bitch in heat, entering the exact club you tried so hard to avoid? Because, deep down, it’s all you wanted. You stayed away from it like a drug. You knew the moment you gave in, you’d sink down the black hole into utter depravity. You knew that deep down you desired someone strong and powerful, someone superior to you, to take and claim you as their own—their plaything. It was hard to be confident in such a stifling environment. Your tight little crop top covered only the barest of your modesty, and the tight skirt accentuated your curves. The confidence you felt in the mirror of your apartment soon dissipated as you walked into the loud club. You could feel the hungry stares, the intense eyes of all the men and women in the place.

You didn’t know who or what you were looking for—rather, hoping they would find you instead. You craved the idea of giving up your power, your control to someone who could hold it over you and force you into submission. The thought made your core burn with need. The bartender slid your simple cocktail towards you with a wink as you settled into the stool awkwardly, trying to appear much stronger than the scared little human you were. You knew they all could smell it on you—the mixture of fear and arousal. So many of them approached you, attempted to charm their way inside you, but none of them felt right. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe you should have stayed home. You can’t help but feel a burn of shame and disappointment as you chug your drink as quickly as you can to make a desperate dash towards the door.

Your nervous eyes skittered around the room, watched as each ravenous alpha eye-fucked you. It was terrifying, intimidating. It cemented just how wrong you were to come here, until— he came into view. Your breath nearly collapsed in your lungs as you took in the vision of the lavender haired man. He was gorgeous. Not just attractive but ethereal in his visage. Your pupils dilated, heart rate increased as you stared at him. You were blatant in your gaze, unable to wrench your eyes elsewhere. He was simply the most captivating man you’ve ever seen in your life, and your body burned with desperate need for him. After moments of desperate staring, you finally shake yourself off and peer down at your empty drink. Was it him? What was so magnetic about the lithe man? Could he be the one to finally claim what you needed to give up? Your cheeks burned with a mixture of shame and need, hoping that he didn’t notice your blatant ogling. Fuck.

Jimin’s fiery gaze flickered to meet yours the very second he felt your eyes on him, straw still tightly sucked between his lips. He crooked a coy eyebrow at you as he pushed himself up from his leaning position to stand upright, no hesitation in his bones in the way he slowly sauntered over to you. His hips swayed in a light strut, mesmerizing in every sense of the word; the predatory genes within giving him these very traits to be alluring for it’s prey. And it seemed to be working, with the way your eyes were glued on him. He stopped when he was right in front of you, giving just enough space for him to be able to observe your fit from top to bottom, but close enough for you to smell his distinct scent. Sweet, calming– arousing. His natural pheromones didn’t leave anybody unaffected, even turning heads on his way, eyes wide with both surprise and envy that the alpha had approached… well, you. “How refreshing with a new face.” Jimin’s canary voice was sweet, yet it had an undertone of a light growl. His canines poked out as he smiled, plush upper lip curling up to showcase his pearly whites further.

Your blush furthered a deeper shade of rose as he approached. Fuck. He definitely saw you staring. The power in his gaze and strut over to you screamed alpha. Hopefully he wasn’t the kind to bite and then ask questions. You’d unfortunately run into that type before.

The blood in your veins pulsed hard, skyrocketing your nerves. He looked so good. It was almost unfair that someone so fucking beautiful existed. You felt small and plain in comparison to the gorgeous man. His whole being exuded sultry command. You nibbled at your bottom lip as he sauntered up to you. Your body was reacting already to his presence, his voice. The entire club was staring at you, curious of the exchange that would happen between the exquisite man and you, the nervous little human. “I-,” you struggled to answer. If he wasn’t aware of how nervous you were before, he would be now—surely. “I don’t really come to these types of places.”

Try as you might, you couldn’t stop staring at the man’s gorgeous pout and terrifyingly attractive teeth. Your heart beat pounded hard in your head, overpowering the loud beat of music.

“D-do you come here often?” You asked, hoping to be polite despite the pooling arousal and growing fear.

Jimin’s smile slowly morphed into a wolfish grin, the apple of his cheeks puffing up until his eyes were shaped like small crescent moons. He almost looked harmless and inviting. “Cute…” he mused under his breath before he took a daring step closer to you, his hand reaching out to gently run his fingers through the piece of stray hair that had fallen forward over your face. He brought the locks to his nose, inhaling deeply. A low rumble vibrated in his chest.. You smelled divine. Even through the shampoo and possible product, he could smell your scent behind it all. “Yeah, I come here, every. single. night…” Jimin winked before withdrawing his hand to let it settle on his hip, his stance powerful and graceful. His dark pupils quivered when he raked down your body for a second time, the wolf ears sticking out from his hair flickering with curiosity. “Why are you here, little lamb?” He cooes at you, licking his upper teeth as he steps closer. He had no problem hearing you through the booming music, but how would you know? It gave him more of an excuse to get closer. “Looking like that?” Of course he knew why. He could smell why. But it was of no news that Jimin loved to play with his prey, ramp up the anxiety until he could practically taste it on his tongue.

Your heart thumped so loud in your chest you were sure all of the club could hear it. If they couldn’t, they definitely could smell the thrum of anxiety pulsing through you. His voice sizzled in your veins, erupting into flames as it enveloped you. Then, he touched you. The simple act of moving your hair had your mind reeling. You could smell him—he was so close you wanted to bury your face in his chest and breathe deeply. His question caught you off guard. Why were you here? Did you even know the answer to that? Your cherry cheeks flushed and you ducked your head, trying to avoid his sultry and tempting gaze. He continued to get closer and it made you tremble with a mix of fright and need. His power was overwhelming, and all you wanted to do was kneel for him.

“I’m—…not quite sure,” you spoke truthfully as you took another sip of your rapidly melting drink. “I’ve never been here before. I think I wanted something… scary.” Your big doe eyes sought out his, so mystifying with their exotic color and shape. He was truly so gorgeous it made your mouth salivate. You squirmed in your seat, suddenly feeling self conscious of your outfit. “My friend told me I should wear something sexy.” Your cheeks were so hot, so embarrassed by how easily you wanted to give into the terrifyingly attractive alpha. “I’m wondering if maybe this was a bad idea…”

Although the music around them was blaring, it felt like a long moment of silence dragged on between the two when Jimin didn’t answer for a hot second. He kept his stare fixed on your face, the small expressions of embarrassment, curiosity, and purity drew him in. He’s truly never encountered a human like you before. One that dared to come here despite being so… weak. It was like you were begging to be eaten, dangling like a fresh piece of the finest meat in front of all these hungry predators. Jimin could hear it, the rumbling growls and groans of men in the room, hoping that the alpha wolf would lose interest and leave a piece for them to get a taste.

“Scary?” He suddenly chirped, his smile more of a smirk at this point as he placed his drink on the bar counter, ice jumping in the glass from the harsh clonk. He bent forward to shamelessly brush his cheek against yours, a subtle way of rubbing his scent off on your skin, knowing it’d avert some of the attention around him– he’s already begun to claim you for himself. His hot breath fanned your ear as he spoke.

“I can smell your lust for fear, little lamb… Do I scare you?” Jimin’s hand softly snaked down the curve of your hip, smoothing his ring-clad fingers down your thigh until he was greeted by your scorching skin. He squeezed the flesh between his digits, cold rings digging into your thigh as he exhaled another hot, quivering breath against your neck, loving the way your scent was slowly mixing with his own.

The man’s simple action of brushing his cheek against your own had your body seizing up. You could smell him as he rubbed his soft skin on yours—a heady mix of something fruity and something naturally luscious. It embarrassed you to know how arousing his simple act had been. You chided yourself internally for feeling your body heat at his gentle action. You licked your lips as he whispered hot words into your ear, making a tingle travel down your spine.

“Y-yes,” you murmured. “You scare me more than anyone h-here.” His hands gripping your thigh made a quiet moan escape your lips. It was desperate. You felt overstimulated and yet so desperate to be touched by the terrifying alpha. Suddenly feeling emboldened, your hands gripped at his sides, slipping under his expensive shirt to touch at the toned skin of his obliques and anchoring yourself to him there.

Jimin’s hand flew down to wrap his fingers around your small wrist, blunt nails digging into your soft skin. His hand on your thigh swiftly withdrew, and the loss of his warmth had you internally whining for more. “Did I say you could touch me?” His voice wasn’t hostile, yet it oozed with the asserting of his dominance. “You’re a daring girl.” He smiles at you, the contrast between his hungry gaze and his softly curved lips was confusing to say the least– but there was no doubt that he was not the kind to simply allow anything without permission.

The alpha’s sudden movement and grip on your hand made you squeal with fright—eyes widening and heart stopping its beat in your chest. Your mouth ran dry. Your terror coursed through you with the distinct tang of need. His dominance made you even more desperate. “I’m sorry,” you peeped quietly, itching to move your fingers away in case it angered him further but also needing to feel his tender skin underneath you once more. “I didn’t mean—..” you stuttered as you felt brave enough to peer up in his enchanting eyes. His smile was comforting but the hungry gaze in his stare had you trembling. Jimin cupped your cheek, hushing you with reassurance– although he seemed way too amused with the way you were practically shaking underneath his touch.

“Breathe. We’re all here to have a good time.” He smoothed the pad of his thumb across your lower lip, noting just how dry it had become. He decided to order another set of drinks, handing one to you that was the same pink shade as the one he got for himself. “Drink.” He didn’t ask, but he commanded you to accept his offer.

You were powerless to deny any demand the man made. Even if he had asked, you’d still be eating out of the palm of his hand like a terrified and starved pet. His thumb on your lips made you ache to open and accept his digit in your mouth, swirl your tongue around it teasingly. Your eyes sought his—hoping you could portray some of the arousal you felt over your innocent fright. You took a sip—a large one in hopes of lowering your frightened inhibitions to open up more to the beautiful man. “Mmm—,” you hummed as your eyes fluttered to close. “This is delicious.” It was sweet on your tongue, but not cloyingly. It warmed you and made your body loose.

“It’s my favorite.” Jimin agreed, already half way through his own. The entire time he kept his eyes trained on your lips, the darkening color on your cheeks from the heat that both alcohol and his proximity provided. When finished, he stretched his back with a light pop, the shirt he’s wearing underneath the jacket lifting just enough for the prominent V-line that snaked down his pants teasingly on display. His visuals were unmatched. He took off his jacket, leaving it unattended by the counter. No one would dare to touch it anyway, the leather oozing of his distinct scent. Only somebody with a death wish would. He combed his fingers through his hair, licking his lower lip clean form the residue sugar from this drink. His ears perked up when the lights dimmed further, and a new song came into play, booming through the speakers that caused a pleasant vibration to pulse through the building.

“I love this song.” Jimin reached for your arm to tug you out of the chair with him towards the crowded dance floor. As per usual, there was no question of whether you wanted to or not, but with a few drinks, and his intoxicating presence, it didn’t seem too bad. For Jimin, this was just part of his foreplay. He brought you into the crowd, tightly packed with all kinds of scents and musks. But the only one he could smell was yours, slowly morphing with his own as he placed his hands on your hips from behind, nose brushing against your neck as he inhaled. “Feel that? The beat?” He growled into your ear, swaying his hips along with the way he moved yours back and forth.

The music, once quiet and unassuming to you, now became loud and matched the beat of your heart. The alpha was dragging you towards the dance floor and in the midst of the hungry crowd, staring at you from where they rubbed up against each other. Just as you were trying to understand where to move, how to adjust your body to the dance, he pressed himself up behind you and gripped your hips. You could feel your pulse running through your veins and the way his touch electrified your skin. “Y-yeah,” you murmured as your hips began to move without thought. They easily swayed with the man’s guidance and you shivered as his nose pressed into your neck. It was like he couldn’t get enough of your scent, your being. The man’s hyper fixation on you had your core drenched—and you knew he could likely smell just how aroused for him you were. You let your eyes close and follow his guiding hold on your body, your ass pressing back against him to rub and grind along his length. It seemed the alphas drink was bringing you ever so gently out of your shell. “Mmm, I feel the beat right here.”

“Fuck, you smell good…” Jimin growled into your ear, his claw-like grip on your hips tightening to keep you in place as he pressed his hips right back against your ass, his cock prominent through the thin layer of his leather pants. It pulsed with every beat of his heart, it was driving him near insanity to practically taste your arousal on his tongue along with the overwhelming smell. “You’re dripping, aren’t you?” He huffed, tastefully biting your earlobe as one hand smoothed down your thigh to tug at the hem of your dress, unbothered to the fact that other hybrids were spying on them. He wanted them to see the way he got to have you, and they don’t. The way you were oozing with lust for the alpha, the pungent arousal of yours surely drove not just Jimin feral, but every single hybrid in the venue. And no one could say a fucking thing.

It was hard to hold back the peeps of surprise and arousal as you felt the alpha’s growing cock against you. Your body instinctively continued to rub and further agitate the hardening length to fully erect. When you felt his hands on you, your body reacted. You knew your cunt was oozing, likely soaking the satin panties underneath your tight skirt and soon to drip down your leg in a sign of utter submission and need to the alpha behind you. “Y-yes,” you whined. “I n-need you.” The admittance was shameless–the alcohol and lowered inhibitions making it easier for you to admit your desires to the man without regret. You could sense that he was showing you off and you complied, allowed the man to present you to everyone in the club who stared with bloodlust for you. “Please,” you gasped, not quite sure of what you were asking for other than him–more him. “Please, take me.”

Jimins wolfish grin grew against your skin before he swiftly grabbed you by your wrist to pull you with him, guiding the two of you towards privacy. Normally, he’d take his prey to the back, or even home… but there was an urgency within him that was too strong to ignore, there was no time– he needed to claim you now. So he pulled you into the bathroom close by, slamming your back against the wall with a thud the moment the door closed behind you. His heavy breaths were laced with small grunts as he crashed his pillowy lips against yours, hands greedily peeling the skirt of your dress up to expose your ass for him to harshly grab onto, squeezing the soft flesh between his ring clad fingers until it protruded between his digits, sharp nails digging into your delicate skin. “Fuck, you drive me crazy, little lamb.” Jimin hisses between hot kisses, the vibrating growl in his chest growing louder as he bites down on your lower lip to draw more innocent whines from your sweet throat. “Every single male in there wishes they could mate with you, shit… the male pheromones were off the roof, they’re all gonna jerk off to the memory of this–” one of his hands cupped your pussy through your soaked panties, dragging his palm to feel the damp fabric stain his skin. “Of how delicious your cunt smells… it’s like a fucking drug.”

Your eyes widened as the strong and sensual man dragged you from the dance floor to the bathroom. The same terror that once pulled through you now flooded every sense. Had you done something wrong? Was he going to harm you? Your worries were sucked up the second he pressed his lips to yours hungrily. Kissing him was like standing too close to a fire. He was hot, so hot, and before you knew it, you’d be engulfed in his hot, licking flames. His hands felt like palpable sin in your flesh and you needed more. “Please,” you whimpered as his hands cupped at your core. You knew you were a mess—dripping with shameless need for the alpha. The kisses turned deeper as you allowed his tongue entrance into your mouth and sought purchase in his own. Your hands stayed by your sides, itching to touch him but remembering his previous warning. “Please, let me touch you. Anywhere.” It felt like you were dying and the only cure was him—any bit of him on you and underneath your fingertips. “Ahh—,” you whined as his hand continued his assault on your cunt. “It’s a-all for you. I don’t want anyone else, only you.”

Jimin’s auburn gaze glowed as he pulled back from the kiss, his pointy canines poking out as he smiled. “You want to touch me?” He purred as he pressed your body harder back against the wall with his own, gliding the pads of his fingers up and down your clothed slit until he feels the swell of your clit through your panties, only to give it extra attention by circling his digits with just enough pressure. Not enough to satisfy, but not enough to not drive you crazy. “You don’t get to touch me until I say so… But don’t worry, good behavior will be rewarded.” Jimin added with his lighter tone of voice, leaning in to nudge your chin to the side with his nose– like a dog would. He softly grazes the skin of your neck with his nose, lips; a deep inhale through his nostrils triggered a vibrating rumble in his throat, and a prominent, heavy throb in his pants. “We’re not in a rush.” He whispered against your neck before placing open mouthed kisses down your skin until he reached the slope of your neck, feeling as his cock grew harder– the more aggressive his kisses became. From soft pecks, to messy sucking, surely painting your delicate skin with splashes of purple.

Feeling the man all over your body and being denied to touch was maddening, but deliciously so. His fingers dipped into your slit and teased so delicately that you thought you might cry if he didn’t give you something soon. Your moans turned into desperate whines and gasps as you allowed him to continue his thorough torture of your clit. Kissing him felt like sin, like heaven and hell. He was everything you wanted—everything you sought after when you stepped foot into the very club you now were being thoroughly debauched in. His cock felt heavy and thick against you and it made you whisper against his lips in arousal and desperation. He trailed down your body and you let out a shaky moan as you felt his sharp incisors suckle and nip at the delicate skin. “Use me,” you begged gently. “P-Please, make me yours.”

Your hips ground against his, rubbing against his hardened length as much as you could to alleviate the burn between your thighs. “Fuck, I want you so bad, please sir.”

“Such a good girl, asking so nicely.” Jimin’s low voice resembled a mix between his natural voice and a growl, the raspyness of it forcing a chill running down your spine, reminding you that he was indeed not human, but a hungry predator. Which is exactly what he was– well, it’s a part of him he only indulges in on nights like these, in a place like this. Who he was outside of these walls, nobody truly knew. His fingers curled around the fabrics of your panties to swiftly rip them off, carelessly discarding them to the dirty floor. Now exposed, your scent was stronger than ever. He shamelessly inhaled through his nose, eyes fluttering in pleasure, feeling the droplets of precum staining his swollen tip underneath the restraining pants.

“Still reconsidering whether coming here was a good or bad idea?” He asks through his breathy voice as he pulled back to look at your needy expression, all while his hands casually reach down to undo his pants, slowly peeling the leather down his hips. His cock sprung up proudly, drooling with arousal down his glistening skin, a content sigh pushing past his plushy lips. “Hm? You like it?” Jimin’s piercing gaze flickered between his cock and your face, grabbing the shaft with his hand. “Want a taste? All you have to do is drop to your knees on the filthy floor…”

Everything about the man radiated power. He mystified you. He even looked beautiful, gorgeous rather, under the harsh fluorescent lights. You were sure you would follow him off the edge of a cliff if he told you to. You didn’t know his name but you didn’t need to, he had you between his delicate fingers. Your breath hitched as he ripped your soaked panties off your body. The cool air of the bathroom was startling against your heated cunt. It made you gasp out loud. “I-I think it was a good idea,” you gulped. Your eyes were big, pleading and needy as you peered into his own. He had you completely under his spell.

Your mouth watered as the man pushed his skintight pants down and exposed his length to you. It was perfect. Thick and long and curved just right that made your core ache for him. You dropped to your knees without hesitation, ignoring the way the wet floor felt against your body. The floor was disgusting but nothing would stop you from pleasing the alpha. You shimmied your skirt up your body, allowing your bare ass and cunt to be exposed to the open air as you knelt before him.

“Please.” The word was becoming your prayer, repeated to the god above you to grant you your blessings. You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue—an obedient little dog in heat. You wanted nothing more than to take him in your mouth without warning but you knew now to wait. You wanted to please the alpha so badly.

Jimin’s eyes darkened immensely at the gorgeous view beneath him, the fiery color of his irises barely visible for they were practically blackened out. If there was something the alpha adored, it was to look down on his prey, being begged to use them as he pleased. You were the perfect plaything for him. “So pretty.” He cooed, a small smile curling up on his upper lip to expose his pointy teeth. He gave his cock a few lazy strokes, his other hand gently combing through your hair before he abruptly curls his fingers to tug at it. He drew you in closer to his red, dripping length as he kept stroking it, eyes not even blinking once as he stared down at you. “Can’t wait to pump you full of my cum… Fuck, such a slut for my cock already.” His words grew filthier the more aroused he became. His patience ran low, so he guided the tip of his drooling cock to your lips, tugging your hair to draw you even closer to take his length down your throat. “Only good girls can take it all. You’re a good girl, aren’t you? Come on…”

The intensity of the alphas gaze made you shiver on the sodden ground and you could tell your cunt was dripping, likely even dripping down onto the very same floor. The bite of pain in your hair stung as he gripped you, but it sizzled and burned until it added to the overall sensation and made your nipples harden in delight. You breathed in deep, steeling yourself as his length came closer. His salacious words made you tremble and ooze with excitement. You wanted nothing more than to be a vessel, a hole for him to wrench pleasure from. His length was warm and dripping with precum. It felt so thick and heavy on your tongue as he continued to push it in. You audibly moaned as you felt it push past your uvula. He was so thick and tasted like salt and sweetness. You let your lips close and wrap around him as you took him to the hilt. You flicked your eyes up to him, shining with tears of strain from the thickness choking your throat. You wanted to prove how good you were, how well you could take him.

After a moment of holding his length as deep as it could go, you pulled back slightly to begin a bobbing motion as you sucked greedily on his cock. Saliva pooled around your lips as you drew him in and out, and the sounds you made sucking could be heard over the thumping of the bar music. You wanted to prove yourself to the alpha, show him you could be more than just a one time type of girl. You wanted him to claim you forever.

“Oh, fuck yes…” Jimin’s pillowy lips parted in initial surprise, but quickly he bit back his low groan as it rumbled in his chest. He knew you were needy, but he didn’t expect you to be so greedy to suck him off. And being so good at it on top of being eager to please– it was oddly new. Normally, every past experience of his was not like this, but more like him doing every piece of the work for a ragdoll, so watching you work his cock so willingly, attentive to his own reactions and pleasure in a different way…. It hit something in him that only riled him up further than anybody had ever done previously.

“Deeper. Gag on it, make it messy.” His chest heaved up and down heavily, deep huffs through his nose displaying just how good he feels in between the low moans, no shame in showcasing how good it feels. He presses his back against the wall, craning his neck to get a good look of the way your lips stretched around his thick shaft. “I can hear your cunt dripping… Can scent it, god, it smells divine. Your insides must be aching for me.” He murmurs as he drives his hips forward a bit rougher to meet your movements, eager to feel your throat constrict around him when he hits too far down your throat. “Coat your fingers in your juices, little lamb. Show me.”

The praise made you preen, and even more desperate to prove your worth to the man. His cock was so big inside your mouth it was hard to keep yourself from gagging, but you worked against it and continued to suck and slurp down his length. You obeyed every order, and slicked him up until your mouth was squelching with saliva around him and it dripped from your face like a tap. You whined around his length as you obeyed, keeping up a pace as you buried a hand down to your exposed core. You nearly gasped at the feeling. You were absolutely soaked and dripping with anticipation. Your fingers swirled in the wetness and coated you easily. You desperately wanted to touch your clit and play with yourself to bring you to your own end but you knew now it was better to wait for his instruction.

While maintaining your eager pace and swirling tongue, you lifted your dripping fingers from your cunt and presented them to the man above you, eyes still trained on his own in utter submission.

Jimin’s eyes quivered at the sight, pupils shrinking as he zeroes in on the glossy sheen on your fingers. His cock twitched in your mouth once, twice before he decided that he’d been patient enough… He could not wait any longer to claim you as his own. He pushed his palm against your forehead until his length was ripped from your throat, drool and precum dribbling down your chin. A long string of the juices seeped down his cock, another piece of it connected to your lips. It was an absolute mess, just the way he liked it.

“Up.” He growled, but before you were even able to obey his orders on your own, he pulled you up by your wrist, bringing the very coated fingers of yours into his mouth. All while maintaining eye contact, his swollen, pink lips eagerly sucked your arousal clean from your digits, swirling his skillful, rough tongue. Around, in between… He refused to let a single drop go to waste. “Mm..” he hummed when he let go of your fingers with a pop of his lips, the small smirk in the corners of his mouth widening. A light thudding sound caught your attention from behind him, his fluffy, white tail wagging in excitement, hitting the wall with every whip. “It’s a bit hot… Take my jacket off.” He suddenly asks, but his sweet tone was deceptive with the underlying command luring in his predatory gaze. He turns around, lowering his shoulders to allow you to easily slide the leather off, his tail playfully brushing against your thighs.

You nearly whined as Jimin forced you away from his cock—not wanting to remove yourself from the thick length that fit so perfectly in your drooling mouth. But the whine is cut short by his demand to stand and as he sucks your fingers into his mouth you nearly forget everything else around you. “A-ah, fuck,” you breathed—pupils dilating at the sight of the gorgeous man sucking your juices off your delicate fingers. Your cunt pulsated around nothing, so desperate for his thick cock now that the arousal has dripped down the insides of your thighs. “Yes sir,” you whispered as your fingers found the edges of his jacket and pulled it off his body. His tail makes your eyes widen as the soft fur brushes against your legs. You’ve never been with a hybrid before, never been with an alpha hybrid at that, and you’re eager to learn just how he differs in other ways. You couldn’t help but marvel at the muscles on the lithe man. He’s thin, but built and you found you’re desperate to lick up the defined lines of his abs. “You’re so p-pretty,” you whispered without knowing it escaped you, marveling at the gorgeous man.

Jimin’s tail trembled with more excitement at the praise, oddly enough. He’s been called many things. Sexy, scary, hot, alluring… Pretty? He liked it.

“Yeah?” he breathes out a small chuckle through his nose, pressing his lips together in thought. He shook his head to get rid of his mind wandering too far, instead back to indulging in the moment– focused on the aching throb between his legs. Jimin pulls his shirt over his head to expose his full torso, the tattoo on his ribs on clear display along with the faded, scattered scars adorning his skin in the form of striped, claw like patterns. Now with his body freed from the cage that is fabrics, he didn’t waste another second to grab you by the hips, turn you around to face away from him, and immediately push you forward to force you to use the sink as leverage. The large, dirty mirror on the wall stared back at you, clear enough for you to see the two of you in this sinful moment.

“You’re pretty too. A pretty slut, about to get her pretty little cunt stretched so bad you’ll be ruined for any other male.” Jimin’s canine adorned smile grew as he stared you down through the reflection in the mirror, grasp on your hips moving to the flesh of your ass. His foot kicks your feet apart, forcing you to stand wider and spread for him. A quick glance down and he already sees just how wet and dripping your cunt was. He pushed the head of his cock against your slit, coating it with your juices before gently rocking forward, not going inside, instead just rubbing between your swollen lips.

“So pretty,” you murmured as your eyes washed over him. Your mouth ran dry as he pulled his shirt off and exposed himself to the hard light of the bathroom. He looked like sin incarnate and your body ached to touch. Your fingertips lightly trailed the skin of his abs, grazing over the tattoo with the faintest touch. The cold sink countertop felt like ice against your chest, still heaving with need as the man prepped your body for his entrance. “Please ruin me, alpha,” you begged, peering into his own gaze through the reflection of the mirror. Your knees and legs trembled as he teased his cock against your desperate slit. “Mark me as yours, please. I only want you.” His cock felt so thick even at the entrance, prodding and poking through your sodden folds. A moan wrenched through your lips as it pushed against your clit and slicked with your own arousal.

“Fuck me, please!” The teasing was near torture and you were desperate, pushing your hips back lightly to encourage the man to slip in and ruin you completely.

With lips closed, he smiled, eyebrows raising your desperation. It was almost mocking, yet pleased with just how desperate you were for him. Your initial fear seemed replaced with utter submission and desire to be his. “We’ve only been in here for minutes and you’re already pathetically wet.” As he spoke, his hips snapped forward to grant your one and only wish, filling your soppy hole with his fleshy, rigid cock. He had no desire to ease you into the stretch from his generous girth, immediately pulling back until merely the tip was engulfed by your cunt before drilling back into you with another squelching thrust. “Tight… no other cock must have ever stretched you this well, huh? Fuck..” He bites down his abused lower lip, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he had to gather himself. The scent you emitted was incredibly strong, intoxicating to his mind. It was like a high he’s never experienced before, and he knew he was already a lost cause to the addiction that is you.

The feeling of the alpha’s cock filling you completely was unparalleled. You’d never felt something within you so deep, never been stretched so far past your breaking point—and unable to care about the tearing pain. The pleasure outweighed the sizzling burn of pain. He was merciless and your whimpering moans echoed around the damp bathroom. “I—ohhhh fuck,” you gasped as he pushed into you yet again, spearing you nearly in half. It was as if you could feel him deep in your stomach, and you never wanted him to leave your soaked cunt. He was claiming his territory with each torturous thrust inside you that made your throat burn for more. “Only you,” you whimpered as his thrusts became merciless and powerful. “All y-yours now. Oh, god, so good,” you praised. You learned the beautiful man thrived on praise as much as you did on the dominant commands. Your hips moved in time with his powerful purses and the sound of skin slapping on skin filled the small room. “Oh my god, sir,” you cried as fat tears of pleasure rolled down your cheeks. “You make me feel so good. I only want your c-cock inside me forever.” You knew now you would be hopelessly tied to the man, and you desperately ached for him to claim you as his own. “P-please, mark me as yours, alpha.”

The low, vibrating growl that rumbled throughout Jimin’s body would have anybody’s fight or flight instincts kicking in– the latter the most logical response from anyone within their right mind. His powerful thrusts were beyond that of what a human was capable of, the skin on your ass bruising with every loud, harsh collision of your bodies. “Only me?” he snarled through a wolfish grin, lips parting in a moan when your cunt clenched around his length. His sharp, claw like nails drew blood as they dug deep into the fleshy part of your waistline, moving your body like a ragdoll to meet his thrusts, your own attempts at doing so barely noticeable. “You want to be my little cockwhore?” Jimin leaned forward, hovering above you as he pressed his chest against your back, the grip on your waist moving to wrap around your torso with one arm, the other clawing at your jaw, forcing you to stare into the reflection in front of you. He keeps you tightly in place, feeling the way your body jiggles and jolts while he fucked into you with insatiable greed. “The alpha’s bitch?” His fiery eyes meet yours through the reflection, his toothy smile growing. He inches closer to drag his flattened tongue up your cheek, a coating of messy saliva dripping down your sweaty skin. Claiming you in every sense of the word.

The man claimed you roughly, making your throat rip with a desperate and wanton moan. His cock was pushing into your cunt deeper than anyone’s ever gone before, harder and with purpose. It was as if the man wanted to fuse your bodies together, become one. You certainly wanted it. His hands on your skin felt hot, feverish. You wanted him to touch you everywhere, at any time he could. You were hopeless addicted now. “Please,” you cried as the tears of pleasure poured from your face. “Claim this cunt as yours. I’m only yours!” You could feel your bliss piquing, building up to the impossible precipice. You whined as you watched your reflection. Your makeup smeared down your face with your sweat and tears. His fingers held your jaw tightly and your cunt pulsed around his heavy cock at the sight. You could see his heavy and thick length spearing into you and retracting smeared in your juices. Something inside you tells you it’s what you want to see for the rest of your life—only his cock ruining you and coaxing torrential orgasms out of you. “Yes! Breed me like the bitch in heat I am!” You cried out loud, no longer caring about your volume. Everyone in the bar could hear your desperate screams for the alpha and it only made you wetter, more aching for the man. “Fill me up with your seed, alpha! I need it, please! Cum inside me!”

The perked wolf ears adorning Jimin’s head flickered with his excitement, pointed forward to make sure he soaks up every little sound you make for him. You were so loud, shamelessly letting every hybrid in the building know just how good the alpha makes you feel. ‘Breed me.’ The words stuck to him, replaying in his mind whilst stuffing you with his cock over and over, the mix of your arousal and his precum dripping down into a puddle at the filthy bathroom floor. He wrapped his arms around your torso, holding you close as his thrusts changed pace. Still filled with greed and force, but no longer pulling back as much, instead keeping his cock lodged deep inside of you whilst prodding as deep inside of you as he possibly can. Jimin’s cock was on the verge of bursting inside of you, and instinctively he possessively sunk his teeth into the tender skin of your shoulder, shutting his eyes harshly. But just as quickly, his eyes opened back up, staring with wide eyes into the mirror when something he did not expect happened. He knew this was it, there was no going back. With one last, harsh thrust, he stilled his movements abruptly, heavy breathing down your neck as he kept you tightly in place– in case you would panic. “Gonna fill you up with my cum.. Put my little pups inside of you- fuck…” He growled into your skin, gnashing his teeth together. His cock grew inside of you, and he was physically unable to remove himself.

Whether it was intentional or not.. His body had chosen to breed you– to mate with you. “Mine.” He whined, and with that, his cock began to desperately pulsate inside of you as he disposed of his warm cum in heavy, pattern-like gushes. Like a volcano erupting, it didn’t stop, but he kept cumming, holding his hands on your stomach as he felt it start to lightly bulge from the amounts he was able to offer. “Gah…. shit… Look at you.” He could barely hold his voice stable, legs quivering, body twitching with every throb of his rigid length, still snugly wrapped by your cum-stuffed flesh.

Nothing in the world, in your life, has ever felt better than the way the alpha felt as he fucked into you. You barely knew the man, and yet you wanted nothing more than to give yourself over to him for as long as he wanted. You found yourself wanting to surrender your life to him. You felt safe in the security of his arms. As if you were always meant to find him, to be here with him. It didn’t matter that he had you in a damp bathroom, you would have him anyway and place. Your orgasm quickly approached, winding up and throttling you over the edge as your cunt convulsed around him. Your channels tightened and milked him, and you sobbed at the wave of pleasure creating over you.

“Yours,” you whined as your bodies stilled. His cock enlarged inside you, making your eyes widen and whimper as your hands clutched at his arms wrapped around you. You needed to touch him, stabilize yourself as your core widens to accept him and your tummy bulges from the amount of cum he pulses into you. It’s hot, and warm and you can feel it coating your walls thick. Your breathing was rapid, coming down from your high and the minor fright from having his cock widen and remain locked within you as he came.

“So big,” you whispered as a tear rolled down your cheek. “H-hurts… But I can take it. I’ll take it for you.” Your head lolls back and rests on his shoulder, allowing your body to relax around the feeling of his swollen knot. “Anything for you,” you murmured, as if you were in a daze. Your hands held on to his slender arms for support and reassurance, hoping desperately you pleased the alpha enough to keep you forever. “D-did I do okay?” You asked once, quiet as a mouse. Your confidence was quickly diminishing now that your orgasm subsided and your anxieties returned.

Jimin takes a long moment to catch his breath and collect himself, still holding you in his arms as if he never wanted to let you go in the first place. And truthfully, he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t have to…

“You did so well, little lamb.” He purrs as he places a, surprisingly, gentle kiss with his pillowy lips against your clammy temple. His hands roam down to smooth his palms over the swell of your stomach, reassuring you that this indeed did please him to the max.

After another few minutes, his length finally went back to its original size, immediately feeling his cum seep out your hole. He pulls out, and the flood of his cum splattered against the floor. But it didn’t seem to faze him at all, instead his attention was set on you, feeling your stomach deflate with each passing second. He turned you around to face him, brushing the damp strand of hair away from your eyes as his features seemed to display nothing but gentle affection, his eyes almost disappearing into thin slits as he smiled. His tail wagged happily, and he decided to bring you in for a chaste kiss on the lips.

“My mate.” he breathes out as if it was a relief to finally have you. And it was, he’d been looking for somebody that would be his true mate for life, but believed he would simply be a lone wolf for eternity. But then you came along, as if destiny had thrown you (or rather, your friend threw you) into this place at this time, like a piece of meat for the alpha to claim.

#fic: the alpha #jimin smut #hybrid jimin #hybrid jimin smut #jimin x reader #jimin x female reader #jimin x you #jimin x yn #jimin x y/n #park jimin smut #bts smut #bts hybrid smut #sombreboy #ppersonna #hybridbtsnetwork

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contemplativepancakes · 3 years

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Geralt is possibly the least interesting vampire in the world. Jaskier is strangely okay with that. 4k, G. read on AO3 here!

for @theamazingbard (:

Geralt holds up two ties in front of the mirror, comparing the fabrics against his suit. By now, he’s used to the headless suit that reflects back at him in the mirror. Geralt’s never been one to overly question things, so he couldn’t tell you why vampires don’t show up in mirrors, but really, that’s fine. A relief, even.

He’s not sure he wants to know what he looks like. He knew once, before he was turned. He wasn’t exactly a looker then, and he highly doubts he is now.

Geralt chooses the black tie with the tiny dots instead of the black tie with the stripes, and clips it on to his suit. What? He can’t be expected to tie a tie every single day. He smooths it down over his chest. Satisfied, he sits down on the bed to tie his dress shoes. Reliable double knots.

He walks down the hall to crouch in front of the refrigerator, pulling out one of the bags of blood he keeps there. He pauses to look at the label. It’s his favorite, AB. He tucks it into his lunchbox, then pauses to rip one open and dump it into his travel mug. He pours some protein powder in it to make the blood coagulate. He can definitely see the appeal of this boba tea the humans have been drinking recently.

As he heads out the door, he darkens a little as he looks at his neighbors’ decorations. He hates Halloween. A time for people to get everything wrong about monsters. They live with them, the least they could do is be a little considerate and do their research.

No, they can’t repel Geralt with garlic. He scowls at the thought.

Geralt’s distracted from his thoughts as a young man runs by him out of seemingly nowhere and falls on the sidewalk just in front of him, his knee splitting open.

Geralt rubs a hand on his neck as the man looks up at him beseechingly.

“Uh. Do you need any help?”

“My, you’re ever so kind,” the man says, extending a hand that Geralt uses to pull him to his feet.

“Probably want to get that cleaned off,” Geralt says. “Make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

“Oh, dear! You’re right. Would it be possible for me to use your sink?” he asks, batting his eyelashes.

Geralt squints. “I...guess?”

“Oh, thank you!”

Geralt unlocks his door and leads the man into his bathroom, graciously pretending not to notice the man looking around the apartment in wide eyed fascination. He must not know that Geralt is a vampire, then, or he wouldn’t be so quick to ask Geralt for help. People around here avoid Geralt for the most part.

“I’m Jaskier,” the man says, as he bends his leg so his knee is right under the faucet. Geralt politely looks away when he notices how the motion makes the material of his pants stretch right across the seat of his ass.

“Geralt,” he replies, watching Jaskier closely for a reaction.

There’s none, so Geralt kneels down and looks under the sink for his hydrogen peroxide. When he finds it, he hands it to Jaskier wordlessly.

Jaskier flashes him a winning smile. “I guess it was my lucky day to run into you, hmm?”

Geralt doesn’t think anyone has ever said that about him before. “Anyone would do what they could to help you avoid infection,” he says dutifully.

Jaskier deflates a bit. “Well, there must be some way I can repay you. How about coffee?”

“Oh. I don’t really...drink coffee.” Geralt waits for Jaskier to get it. It’s not like monsters like him are uncommon, per se.

“How about dinner, then? A steakhouse.”

“Sure,” Geralt says, surprising himself. He blinks. His brothers are always telling him he needs to make more friends. And a steak does sound particularly good. He rarely lets himself indulge in things like that.

Jaskier brightens. “Hey, would you mind putting a band aid on this for me? I can never get it to stay.”

“I’m not sure that applying band aids is exactly rocket science,” Geralt says, but he does it anyway, his nose twitching at the scent of the fresh blood.

Geralt is centuries old, though, so it’s not like a little blood is the end of the world. Maybe when he was a fledgling, but those days are long past him.

He gives Jaskier’s knee a tiny pat. “Looks like those pants are done in for,” he says inanely.

Jaskier shrugs. “A worthy sacrifice.”

Geralt doesn’t respond to that, and Jaskier lets the silence linger. Geralt clears his throat. “I’m going to be late for work.”

Before he leaves, Jaskier insists Geralt give him his number so that he can arrange their dinner. “I’m very much looking forward to it,” Jaskier says with a grin.

Geralt gives him a hesitant smile, looking at the clock. He really does need to get a move on.

Jaskier seems to get the hint and lets Geralt usher him out the door.

In the end, Geralt’s not late, but he is grumpy that he only arrived five minutes early instead of his customary fifteen. It throws his entire day off, and the numbers seem to swim before him on his computer screen like never before.

Geralt scowls. He should have picked the tie with the stripes.

Jaskier contains his pout as he walks along the sidewalk, away from Geralt’s house. He practically offered himself up on a platter to be ravished, and Geralt was completely unaffected. There was blood right in front of his nose!

Jaskier doubts his information for a second, but Priscilla was the one who told him in hushed whispers that the word was that Geralt was a vampire. If Valdo had been the one to tell him, then he would have had a few more qualms, but Priscilla wouldn’t lie to him like that.

She knows how the idea of being partners with a monster makes him feel hot under the collar.

Jaskier resolves to be better. If a cut knee wasn’t enough, he’ll just have to step up his game for this dinner. And surely, if Geralt didn’t want to be seduced, he would have sent Jaskier on his merry way after bandaging his knee instead of bandaging it for him, for gods’ sake.

Maybe Geralt wants to be the one being chased after for once. Well, Jaskier is happy to oblige.

When Geralt gets home from work, there’s a text waiting for him. How about Friday night for our little get together?

It’s not like Geralt ever has any plans that might get in the way besides his weekly meeting, so it’s not like he has to check his calendar before he replies. Sure.

Great! I’ll pick you up at 8! :D

Geralt frowns. This doesn’t seem right. He hasn’t made a new friend in possibly fifty years, and now one literally falls into his path?

He hums to himself as he does his nightly routine, pushing on the gum above each fang to make it pop out so he can properly brush it. Cleanliness is next to godliness, and all that. Actual dentists that weren’t just going to try to pull out his teeth have only been around for less than the majority of his life, so it’s habit to take good care of them.

Geralt strips off his clothes until he’s left in just his t-shirt and boxers and climbs into bed. No, he doesn’t have a coffin or hang upside down like some sort of bat. Geralt’s not sure where all that nonsense got its roots in the first place.

There’s so many things that humans seem to have no qualms believing about monsters, though, and Geralt frowns as he punches his pillow into a better shape. He’s almost 250. His lumbar health is no joke.

His anxiety bleeds into his work, making Excel blink more error messages back at him than he’s ever seen before. Geralt’s boss pulls him aside to ask if he’s okay. Geralt sulks.

He is the consummate professional, and he’s not going to let this dinner get the better of him. Geralt contends anyone would be nervous if they hadn’t made a new friend in decades, too.

Now, he stands in front of his closet. He’s certainly not going to wear a suit, but he rarely wears anything else. It’s not like he goes much of any place besides work and his weekly meetings. Geralt sighs as he pulls a pair of jeans out of his wardrobe.

They’re a lot tighter than he remembers, but this is all he has, so it’ll have to do. He finds a long sleeved shirt that is luckily on the baggier side. He hopes that will make up for his too-close fitting jeans.

Geralt brushes his hair, but he can’t see it in the mirror, so there’s no point in doing anything else with it. He’s more likely to make himself look ridiculous than presentable with whatever he might attempt.

Geralt plants himself on the couch, reaching for his book to read until the clock rolls around to the time Jaskier promised to pick him up. His fingers play with the corners of the pages, bending them in a way that he’s sure would make a librarian displeased.

Geralt huffs when he realizes he’s not going to get any reading done and sets the book down on his side table. He takes a deep breath through his nose. He is ancient; he shouldn’t be getting social anxiety right now.

His phone pings with a text. Outside!

Geralt looks out the window, and indeed, there’s a car there. It’s a lime green slug bug, with rust eating its way up from the undercarriage. Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose. That looks like Jaskier’s car, all right.

Jaskier tries not to drool as Geralt walks down his steps. He’s wearing pants that are skin tight, which should frankly be illegal, and his shirt hangs off of him so that it shows his collar bones. Jaskier thought that vampires should be the ones who wanted to bite, but he would really love to get his mouth on one of those.

Geralt gets into the passenger seat with a half smile playing around his lips. “Like my ride?” Jaskier asks.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Jaskier claps his hand to his heart in mock offense. “I’m wounded.”

Geralt hums, shifting in his seat as he fastens his seatbelt. Jaskier drums his fingers on the steering wheel, flexing his right arm to draw attention to the bandage he has there. He went and donated blood this afternoon, and if Geralt doesn’t get his hint this time, he is going to pound his head against the nearest wall.

Geralt shifts his head to look out the window as Jaskier keeps his arms on shameless display. He knows times have changed, but it’s also always a little dizzying to see so much of everyone’s skin on display all the time, their pulse thrumming invitingly underneath it.

Geralt shakes his head to clear it of its reverie as Jaskier pulls his car into drive. It gives a concerning lurch. Before Geralt can open his mouth to comment, Jaskier is holding up a hand. “I can assure you, we are perfectly safe.”

“Hmm.”

“Hey!” Jaskier protests. “It is. I take care of it.”

“All I said was hmm,” Geralt says with a tiny grin. “That’s why it has so much rust, right?”

Jaskier sighs. “I was going to get around to repaint it, and then I just...other things came up.”

Geralt makes a face at him, laughing at Jaskier’s increased defenses. Some of his anxiety fades away as he realizes this isn’t so bad, after all. Maybe Jaskier needs a new friend just as badly as him.

When they arrive at the restaurant, Jaskier pulls Geralt’s chair out for him. Geralt gives him a polite nod. He can’t say he has a firm grasp on all the recent customs. Lambert’s always telling him he’s stuck in the past.

Geralt crosses his fingers and rests his chin on his hands as he watches Jaskier eat his salad, taking endearingly large bites. Jaskier hasn’t even mentioned anything about vampires yet. Geralt is starting to feel a tiny bit guilty. Would he still want to spend all this time with him if he knew Geralt wasn’t human?

As he’s thinking that, Jaskier takes a big gulp of his water and starts to sputter. Geralt’s across the table in an instant, his hand around Jaskier’s bicep and another hand on his back. “Are you okay?” Geralt murmurs, tense and ready to help if the need arises.

Jaskier coughs and waves him off. “Just went down the wrong pipe.”

Geralt relaxes a bit, but as his hand lingers on Jaskier’s arm, he can’t help but feel how warm it is, such a contrast to his own constantly cool skin. When Jaskier turns his face to look up at him, Geralt quickly drops his arm and beats a hasty retreat back to his seat.

He could swear Jaskier looks disappointed. He must be delusional.

When the main course comes, Geralt cuts neatly into his pink steak, mouth watering as the juices come leaking out of it. He sucks the tip of his finger into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut at the salty taste of it.

He makes himself cut the steak into tiny pieces. He’ll have to tell Jaskier he’s a vampire eventually; he might as well make sure he doesn’t think he’s a barbaric onel. Geralt tries his best to keep his eyes on Jaskier’s face instead of his arms. He can’t help but notice that he has some very nice veins. They’re a striking blue, and a perfect compliment to his eyes.

Geralt bites his lip, flinching when one of his fangs pops out on its own, pressing into his lip.

“One of my uncles is a werewolf,” Jaskier says, apropos of nothing, looking at Geralt meaningfully.

A trickle of sweat runs down Geralt’s back. Does Jaskier think he’s a werewolf? Werewolves are generally regarded better than vampires; at least they’re only monsters one night a month.

“Hmm,” Geralt says, not hearing the rest of Jaskier’s sentence.

Jaskier laughs at his own joke, and Geralt blinks rapidly until he can focus again on what Jaskier’s saying.

When the waiter comes with the check, Jaskier insists on paying for it. Is this what friendship has evolved to since Geralt last had one? He doesn’t know enough about it to argue with Jaskier, so he lets him do what he wants.

Outside of Geralt’s house, Jaskier puts a hand on the console between them, making eye contact with Geralt before dropping his gaze down to his lips. Geralt gives him a gentle smile, his eyes crinkling. His white hair looks ethereal in the moonlight, and Jaskier is only a little infatuated.

Geralt’s exterior is stony, but he also had no problems giving Jaskier all sorts of secret smiles throughout the night. Jaskier’s not sure he’s met a better listener than Geralt, and he tends to drone on and on, so that’s somewhat important to him.

Jaskier closes his eyes and starts to lean in when Geralt opens the car door. Jaskier opens his eyes.

“I had a great time, thank you,” Geralt says, one hand on the top of the car.

Jaskier bites his lip, stopping himself from saying what he wants. “Me, too. Let’s do it again some time?”

Geralt nods eagerly, and Jaskier watches him walk away, his gaze fixed on Geralt’s devastating pants and not at all on the way his ass looks in them.

Jaskier rests his head on the steering wheel in despair. He doesn’t know how to be any more heavy handed than this. He went and donated blood! And Geralt let him pay for their meal! He’s not sure how he can get across the point any better that he’s a talking blood bag, and he’s open for business.

Jaskier heaves a gigantic sigh and resolves to go home and plot his next move.

Maybe Geralt’s just shy.

Well. Jaskier can work with that

Geralt’s weekend passes in its normal fashion. He goes for a run, drinks some blood out of his supply in the fridge, then crashes on the couch for a whole day while he thinks of anything other than work. Sometimes Eskel lets himself in using his key, but he doesn’t that weekend, and Geralt crosses his arms over his chest as he tortures himself thinking of what Eskel might be doing.

Eskel’s never had problems making friends, unlike Geralt, so he’s sure he’s out having a good time with them.

Geralt used to be good at making friends, gods damn it, before all of them died of old age and he just didn’t see the point anymore. He’s come to suppose that there’s not all that much of a point in immortality if all he does is work, though.

The weekend’s over just as quickly as it began, and on Monday night, he can’t help the smile that creeps across his face when Jaskier texts him about some inane thing he noticed. Was he thinking of Geralt? That’s...nice.

Cautiously, Geralt lets himself hope that something is going to come out of this.

But first, he needs to tell Jaskier he’s a vampire. He wouldn’t be the first person to run away screaming, even though they are much more accepted now than they used to be.

Geralt shudders as he thinks of the industrial revolution. No regard for any monsters then. Humans invent light bulbs, and all of a sudden they think they’re too good for a healthy dash of respect.

Geralt looks back down at his phone, at a music video Jaskier sent him of someone playing a singing saw.

He lets himself focus on that a while.

Wednesday creeps around, and with it, Geralt’s weekly meeting.

He takes his spot in his customary chair, and looks around for Lambert, ignoring the look Eskel is trying to burn through the side of his face with.

“Why do I have to be here, again?” Geralt asks, when he gives up on Lambert to come save him.

Eskel rolls his eyes. It’s an argument they’ve had more than once. “If you won’t become a sponsor, you have to at least show them that things get better.”

Geralt huffs a breath out through his nose as he watches the regulars file in. There’s one new person, and Geralt eyes her curiously. She looks a little terrified, and Geralt softens in sympathy.

The meeting starts, and they go around in the circle, the seat beside Geralt still empty in Lambert’s tardiness.

“Hi, I’m Geralt, and I’m a blood addict,” he drones when it’s his turn.

When they’ve moved on to their personal struggles for the week, Lambert finally appears, dropping into his chair.

He elbows Geralt, seemingly unaware of everyone staring at them.

“Hey, what’s got you in such a good mood?”

Geralt firmly fixes a scowl in place and ignores him. He’s not sure why he even wanted Lambert to show up in the first place.

Geralt leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he listens to everyone else, Eskel being disgustingly reassuring to them all, as per usual. Geralt stamps the jealousy down. It’s not Eskel’s fault he’s so good with people.

The meeting drags by, and when it’s finally over, Lambert doesn’t let Geralt just sneak away. He digs his elbow into his side again, holding Geralt by the shoulder. “You didn’t answer me earlier. What’s got you in such a good mood?”

“I’m not,” Geralt says.

Lambert hums. “You don’t have your usual storm cloud above your head, so I’m going to count it.”

Geralt scowls at him and looks at Eskel for back up, but Eskel just raises his eyebrows at him.

“I hate you both,” Geralt grumbles.

“You love us,” Lambert says.

“Fine. I made a new friend,” he grates out.

Lambert and Eskel exchange an insufferable look.

“What?” Geralt demands.

“You, make a friend? Well, we’re just going to have to hear all about this to believe it.”

Geralt huffs, but he tells them about Jaskier.

“He took you to dinner? And paid? And you think he wants to be just friends?” Lambert asks.

Geralt flaps his hands around and hisses, “Look, I’ve barely been anywhere that isn’t here or work in the last three decades, how am I supposed to keep up with all this human nonsense? And besides, I haven’t even told him I’m a vampire yet. I’ll be lucky if he even wants to be my friend after that.”

Eskel bites his lip. “You know that’s a turn on for some humans, right?”

“What?”

“And you said he scraped his knee the first time he saw you? Geralt, I think he already knows, and he’s just trying to get in your pants.”

Geralt deflates. That makes a twisted sort of sense. “Oh.”

Lambert punches him in the arm. “Hey, lighten up. If anyone can charm him with their stunning personality, it’s you.”

“Fuck off.”

It’s difficult to fall asleep that night.

A week goes by without him answering any of Jaskier’s texts. He still painstakingly reads and savors each one, but he can’t bring himself to reply. If he was looking for some sort of...fling, he would have gone on one of those apps Eskel keeps telling him about.

As pathetic as it sounds, he could really use a friend. And if sex came later, well, Geralt wouldn’t complain, but he just desperately needs someone who’s going to stick around. He needs someone just for himself, someone outside of Lambert and Eskel who isn’t going to tease him about every little thing.

Geralt sighs. This was at least good practice. Maybe he can try again with someone else.

His heart sinks at the thought. He doesn’t really want someone else. Jaskier wormed his way into his chest in just a week, and Geralt knows he could yank him out with only a little pain if he tried, he doesn’t want to.

Geralt wants to have something nice, for once.

Jaskier bites his lip as he peers out the car window at Geralt’s house. He’s half scared there’s not going to be an answer when he knocks, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do then. He thought their date went swimmingly, so he’s not sure why Geralt suddenly stopped answering him unless something happened.

Jaskier has a vision of getting into the house only to find Geralt on the floor, the only way to revive him being letting Geralt drink straight from his neck, obviously leading to Geralt ravishing him against the nearest wall.

Jaskier shakes himself like a dog. Geralt’s given him no interest in anything like that at all. Maybe he needs to lower his expectations. The dude seems lonely, anyway, so maybe he just wants someone to talk to that’s not one of his coworkers.

Geralt told him he’s an actuary, and from the questions he asked of Geralt and Geralt didn’t answer, he’s not convinced that Geralt talks to his coworkers at all.

Jaskier blows out a puff of breath as he unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door. He’s not sure what he hopes is going to happen when he opens the door.

He walks up the door and knocks.

He waits an agonizing moment before the door swings open, revealing Geralt. He looks even paler than Jaskier remembered him, wearing a pair of sweatpants with a hole in the crotch that he can see Geralt’s plaid boxers through and a t-shirt with a collar that’s outrageously stretched. Jaskier swallows hard.

“Have you considered not oiling the hinges? I think it would do you a world of good to develop a creaky door aesthetic.”

Geralt’s forehead wrinkles adorably. “What?”

“Just, you know. Being a vampire and all.”

Geralt slumps against the door frame. “How long have you known?”

Now it’s Jaskier’s turn to be confused. “Known what?”

“That I’m a vampire!”

“Oh.” Jaskier pauses. “I didn’t think it was a secret.”

Geralt’s hand pauses in its path of trailing the wood grain of the door. “Do you have a...kink?” he spits.

Jaskier raises his hands. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

Geralt fixes him with an unconvinced look.

“Look, that might have been part of the initial intrigue, but—”

Geralt raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“But, you’re really fucking hot and also possibly the most boring person I know, but...I’m into it. You know all these weird facts and—gods know I could use a little stability in my life.”

Geralt gives him a bashful smile, and Jaskier wonders if anyone has said anything nice to him at some point this century. “Yeah?”

Jaskier leans across the threshold and cups Geralt’s face with his hands, their mouths a breath apart. “Yeah.”

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #contemplative writing #vampire! geralt

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