#mane he makes me want to eat nails

[boywifesammy]

jensen ackles has mastered the art of expressing 50 different emotions through dean’s poker face based on what muscle in his jaw twitches or what angle his eyes are at

[monstersandmaw]

Female knight x lady - part one?

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

I've had this knocking around for ages, and I don't know if I'll continue it, but I fell in love with all the characters anyway and figured someone might enjoy it. It was based on a prompt that I can't find now, but ran along the lines of: "Female knight looking for a Lady to serve. Experienced in monster slaying."

Wordcount: 4149 Contents: Buff, tough, butch knight seeks employment from a local lady, featuring the ugliest horse in all the land, a dog named Muffin, and a brother who just wants his sister to be happy and safe... Fleetingly suggestive moments, but nothing super nsfw.

“Here goes nothing,” she sighed as she drove the nail into the village noticeboard with the pommel of her dagger and stepped back to look at her chicken-scratch writing. “Fuck,” she added as she glowered at it and saw the way her hand had smudged the bottom of it.

“Female knight looking for a Lady to serve. Experienced in monster slaying. Find me at the Bleeding Goat until the day after the Spring Equinox.” At least, if she squinted it still looked like ‘Spring Equinox’. If she didn’t, it looked like ‘Stink Jurybox’ or even ‘String Fairyfox’.

“Fuck,” she said again, and turned away. It would have to do. She didn’t have any more paper anyway.

And with that, she led her enormous war horse down the road towards the Bleeding Goat inn. Maggot was a vile mare by anyone’s estimation, but Vika loved her dearly. Built like a brick shithouse, with a shaggy, yellow-ish white coat, pink eyes, and a propensity for biting anyone who came within a three yard radius of her, the mare wouldn’t have won an equine beauty contest if she was the last horse in the land, but she was loyal to Vika, and could keep up a steady trot for days without breaking a sweat. She made a great windbreak too, if the need called for it, and her hooves were the size of a large buckler shield. Once iron-shod, they were lethal when she reared up or lashed out.

The ostler at The Bleeding Goat almost didn’t take her.

“Size of that beast,” he muttered as Vika led her into the fresh stall. “Looks like it might eat one of my donkeys whole if I turn my back!”

“She won’t trouble the others if they don’t trouble her,” Vika growled down at him.

“If you say so,” he said, giving her the once-over too as he looked back over his shoulder at her.

At six foot three, with broad shoulders, thick, wild, dark brown hair that resisted almost every attempt at combing, a jaw like an anvil and a glare to make a dragon nervous, Vika was only distantly aware of the little man, the way a lion might briefly take note of a mouse in the grass.

“Like horse, like rider,” he muttered as he shut the door on Maggot’s stall. He reeled backwards and tripped over his own heels when Maggot lunged for him, teeth bared, red eyes rolled to show the whites and her lopsided, wolf-bitten ears pulled right back against her matted mane. “Fucking hell,” the ostler yelped as he scrabbled to his feet. “Look after it yourself!”

“Suits me,” she said with a shrug. “You never gave me the chance to offer.”

“Bitch,” he spat as he slunk out of the stable yard, nursing a bruised backside and a wet patch where he’d fallen on the muddy ground.

“That’s ‘Dame’ to you!” Vika yelled after him. When he stopped and lurched back around to goggle openly at her, she offered him a cold, feral grin and tapped the pattern of embroidered lilies and swords on her padded brigandine with her thumb. “Dame Vika of Sharkshoal Point.”

“Right. Sorry, m’lady. Ma’am. Dame…”

She snorted and turned away just as Maggot whickered in a way that meant she was thoroughly amused with her own antics. Vika poked her in the chest and she stepped back from the stable door to let her owner in, and with practised movements that felt almost meditative, she had untacked the horse and rubbed her down with a handful of straw. The bran mash and oats she’d paid for were brought to her by a trembling stable lad who had stared up at her from over the stable door with wide eyes until Maggot had neighed with soft, enquiring interest and he’d practically flung it over the door and bolted for the kitchen door of the inn. Anyone might have thought Maggot was a roaring dragon by the way he’d reacted, but it was a common enough occurrence that neither mare nor knight paid it any mind.

Vika spent three days at the inn.

She took the time to sharpen all her numerous blades, not just the greatsword she usually kept sheathed on Maggot’s tack, and she even managed to acquire a needle and thread to darn up a few slashes in her padded brigandine. Her needlework wouldn’t have passed muster in the house of a lady, but delicate embroidery wasn’t the goal. She could make two pieces of fabric meet and stay together well enough, and that would have to do. She could also sew up a person if push came to shove, and she bore the scars of her own neat stitching in a number of places about her body as proof.

On the fourth day, while the lively little town was setting up for the Spring Equinox celebrations, a man entered the tavern’s common room and looked around, asking for the ‘female knight’ who’d placed the advert on the board.

She tensed but let the scene play out, watching as the cute serving girl flushed and pointed across the room at her.

The man turned and cocked an eyebrow when he looked Vika up and down, but he thanked Ella and wove his way carefully between the tables. He was wearing the practical garments of a labourer, with a long tunic that covered his hips and a belt around the waist, but the fabric was far finer than any Vika had ever clapped eyes on, and his fur-trimmed cloak looked soft enough to swaddle a baby. His boots were worn to the point of comfort, but not falling apart, and at his hip he carried a slender sword with a silver pommel.

“Forgive the intrusion,” he said with a polite incline of his head and an accent that betrayed him as nobility as surely as the gold stitching on his scabbard. “But are you the knight who placed the advertisement on the noticeboard? You’re looking to serve a lady?”

“I am,” she said, blunt and direct as ever. “Vika,” and she stuck out her hand to him.

He shook it without hesitation and revealed a strong, firm grip. “Lord Roland. Brother of the Lady Elayne Drummond,” he added with a friendly twist of his lips.

He was attractive, for a man, with big, brown, puppy-dog eyes and russet brown hair that fell in easy waves around his ears to brush the fur of his cloak. He had a short beard that was well-maintained, and his skin had the healthy glow of one who had never missed a meal a day in his life and spent much of his time out of doors.

“May I sit?” he asked, eyeing the chair opposite hers across the table.

She glanced down at the throwing knife she’d been in the process of sharpening, and at the black grime that coated her fingertips and around her nails from the oil and the whetstone, and felt a touch of shame beside his immaculate appearance, but she nodded all the same. “Sure. Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to drink?” she offered.

He smiled at that and nodded. “The ale here is the best in town,” he said, looking over his shoulder and beckoning over the serving girl with dark eyes and curly, black hair.

“M’lord?” Ella chirped and then shot Vika a smile. She’d flashed her the same smile on Vika’s first night, and again when Vika had made it clear in which room she was staying, should the young woman feel like joining her when she’d finished work. Ella had, and she’d fallen apart with the same glorious light in her eyes under Vika’s mouth and with her fingers buried deep inside her. They’d not met since, but they’d been easy in each other’s company ever since.

They ordered their drinks, and Roland turned back to Vika, resting his forearms on the table. “I suppose I should ask the reason you’re placing advertisements on public noticeboards instead of serving with the king, or even the knight who gave you your title to begin with.”

“A fair enough question,” she shrugged. “He died. Of old age, mind you. I served Gwilym of Sevenoaks from the time I was first raised to the order until two years ago. After his death, I decided to travel. Found myself here, and decided it was time to find myself a new place to roost.”

 “Your advertisement said you’ve slain monsters…?” he asked just as their tankards arrived.

“Thanks,” Vika murmured to Ella as she slid it across the table to her, and then looked up at Roland and shrugged. “Yeah. But nothing that didn’t deserve it first, you know? There was some sick fuck who was kidnapping maidens to feed to a dragon, so I went to the dragon and found out what was really going on, challenged the fuck to a duel, he ran, I put an axe through his skull before he’d cleared the trees. Then there was a vampire that had gone feral back near Reaver’s Canyon, and she refused to let me chain her up til the bloodlust faded. Went into full shift, came at me, and went for my neck —” she bared the side of her throat to Roland where the skin was puckered. “Near tore me open with her fucking claws, but I staked her and that was that. Cauterised it with my own dagger. Nearly fucked up the temper on it too,” she added as an afterthought.

Roland cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, and she wasn’t sure if he was impressed or uncomfortable. Again, that wasn’t an uncommon reaction for folks to have to her.

“Right. Well, you clearly know what you’re doing…” he said in his clipped, aristocratic tone. “I do have one more question.”

“Ask away,” she said and drained a third of her tankard in one go. “Ah, fuck me, you’re right. That is good.”

“Right,” he chirped again, shuffling slightly in his seat. “My sister is… Well… She’s… She’s a lady… you understand…”

“Sisters of Lords usually are,” Vika growled. “What’s your point?”

“Quite, but… while your… um… your deeds are certainly impressive — and if you say you served with Sir Gwilym, I can’t argue that he knew good character when he saw it — I must say that your language is… uh…”

“Unbecoming of the knightly order?” she said. “Don’t worry. I can hold my tongue when I have to. I’m just tired and a bit run down. I apologise. I can watch my mouth, if it offends the lady.”

Roland blushed. “You know, it probably wouldn’t offend ‘the lady’, if I’m honest,” he sighed. “It’s just… Well, you understand. Decorum and all that.”

“Yeah, I get it. So is there an opening at the castle or not?”

He nodded. “I think you’ll fit in just fine, but as a formality, I’d like to extend a trial period to you.”

“Oh, Roland,” she grinned over the rim of her tankard. “Never give a knight the challenge of a trial.”

His answering smile went all the way to his big brown eyes, and he raised his own tankard to her. “I look forward to meeting you in the lists, Dame Vika.”

She snorted and drained her ale. “Ready when you are. Just need to grab my horse and my gear.” Roland slid two coppers onto the table and she frowned. “Thought I said I’d pay?”

“I’m the one interviewing,” he shrugged as he stood and made his way past Ella to the door. “You can leave a tip if you like.”

“Oh, I already tipped her,” Vika purred, sliding a silver coin into Ella’s palm while the young woman blushed prettily and tried to hide a smirk behind a dip of her head. “Bring my saddlebags down to the stables, love? They’re all packed up in my room,” she asked before following him towards the stables.

A magnificent black palfrey, still wearing his gleaming tack, stood in the stable next to Maggot’s, staring wide-eyed and stock-still at the mare with a look of abject horror on his face so comical that Vika guffawed when she saw him.

“That’s…your horse?” Roland asked as he saw Vika hang her arms over her mare’s stable door and dangle her hands in a ‘come here’ gesture at the mare.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I know. Before you say it, we’ve heard it all before. But she’s everything to me, alright? Wouldn’t trade her for a high-stepping prancer like that for the world.”

Roland’s horse snorted, offended.

“Fair enough,” he said, and swallowed thickly. “Come on, Lancer.”

Vika rolled her eyes and hefted her own saddle off the rack near the door and slung it over the stable door. She tacked her mare up in silence and led her out into the yard to mount up after Ella brought out her saddlebags and Vika winked at her just to watch her blush again. “Thank you, love,” she said. Damn, but the girl was pretty.

Ella rested her hand boldly on Vika’s thigh as she looked coyly up at her and said, “It’s been a pleasure, m’lady.”

The ride to the castle took twenty minutes, and passed through some of the loveliest countryside Vika had ever seen. Deer scattered from a nearby field into the oak and beech trees on their right, and as they urged their horses into a canter, Maggot threw in a little buck of happiness and Vika laughed, patting her neck as she sat it with familiar ease.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Roland said as they continued to canter, his palfrey slightly in the lead and looking wary about the lumbering beast a pace or two behind him, “But how did you come by a horse like… that?”

Vika looked down at her mare’s boulder neck and shoulders and sallow, flaxen mane, listening to her dragon snorts as she heaved up the hill. It sounded like a hell of a lot of effort, but she could outlast any fancy racer once the quarter mile marker had been passed. She wasn’t fast, but hell, she had endurance.

“Saved her from a slaughterhouse,” Vika called above the wind in their ears. Her own long hair streamed behind her, probably tangling into an even worse bird’s nest, but she couldn't have cared less after days cooped up in the tavern. She’d expected to have her advertisement ignored, and simply to move on while the town celebrated equinox, but this was infinitely more attractive.

Roland’s horse put on a sudden spurt of speed, nudging from canter to a ground-chewing gallop, but Maggot just ploughed on at the same stubborn canter, pounding her great hooves into the soil until Roland sat back in the saddle and his fancy prancer slowed with a frustrated toss of his head. “A slaughterhouse?” he asked.

“Yeah. They thought she was far too ugly to make a destrier, and too mean to make a carthorse. I took one look at her and bought her. She was a year old at the time, and already built like a siege engine. She could teach mules about being stubborn too.”

“Something I sense you two have in common?” he said, and because he said it not unkindly, Vika laughed.

“You got me there,” she said with another laugh. “So what’s your sister like? And why is she looking for a female knight, specifically?”

He slowed Lancer to a brisk trot, and Vika nudged Maggot up beside him, instinctively tugging the reins to one side when Maggot went to bite the destrier’s glossy, black rump on the way past.

“Ah, none of that,” she barked at the horse, and for once, the mare listened, plodding along like an aged plough horse.

“Elayne is…” Roland began, and then faltered, scrubbing his hand over his face. “She’s beautiful, educated, beloved…” he said, and Vika frowned. When he looked askance at her, he sighed and the weight of it dragged his shoulders down with it. “She’s miserable. Our father… well, he loved her more than anything, but he kept her penned in… like a bird in a cage. She can insult you in about fifteen different languages, but she’s got no experience of any of the places where they speak them. Not even of our own country, really.”

“Sounds lonely,” Vika offered, and not without some sympathy. She’d travelled, and she’d met her fair share of courtly folk before. It wasn’t all it was made out to be.

Roland nodded. “Yes. I think… now that father’s dead, she’d like to see something of the world.”

Vika raised her eyebrows. “And you want someone to go with her?”

“Precisely. We have contacts all across the land,” he said. “She’d never want for a place to stay, but it’s the in-between that worries me. There’s no disguising we’re a wealthy family, and if someone figured out who she is, she could be taken for ransom, or harmed, or… It doesn’t bear thinking about. I can’t go with her because someone would have to run our estates in her absence.”

“She manages that now then?” Vika asked and he nodded.

“Yes. Father taught her everything, and, to my shame, I never had much of a head for it; not the way she does. She’s a natural. I can manage though,” he added, cheeks heating. “It’s not like it’d fall apart completely without her, but… yes. She’s the one who manages the day to day of the castle and the estate finances.”

“I’m surprised she’s not got suitors lining up from the castle gates to Southport,” she snorted.

“Oh, she has,” he laughed.

“None of them good enough?”

Again, Roland barked a laugh. “Seemingly not. Look —” he said, and pointed with his gloved right hand as they rounded a bend in the road and the trees drew back a little way. “That’s Crow’s Nest.”

Vika followed his gesture and spotted the dark castle on the hill easily enough. “Impressive,” she murmured.

“Think your ugly mare can beat my Lancer to the courtyard from here?” he asked.

Maggot was already lurching forwards into a determined canter before Vika had processed the question. “What did I tell you about knights and challenges?” she yelled over her shoulder at him as they took off with an ungainly jolt.

Lancer, of course, was off like a hound after a hare a second later, his silky tail held high as an officer’s plume, but after a mile, he began to slow while Maggot just thundered on like a boulder down a mountain. Vika just sat forward a little in the saddle and gave the mare her head to set her own pace. They overtook Lancer on a corner by an oak on the last stretch and Vika yelled, “I hope they let us in without you, Prancer!”

“You’d just batter down the gates anyway!” he roared back, laughing.

Maggot won by a country mile, though mostly through grim determination and grit than anything else. Her sides heaved by the time she got to the barbican gate, and Vika was forced to sit back and ease her into a trot before the archers on the gate started to shoot at her.

Lancer appeared a few minutes later, his deep, black chest rimed with foam and his nostrils flared wide while Vika was still walking Maggot in a lazy circle just out of bow shot, and Roland shook his head. “Damn,” he laughed. “I’d love to see Maggot race Crocus.”

“Crocus?”

“My sister’s gelding. Don’t ask about the name — something to do with saffron and the fact that he’s probably the most orange horse you’ll ever lay eyes on. Open the gate!” he added in the same breath, and the portcullis rumbled up.

“Bit extreme, isn't it? We’re not exactly at war…” Vika muttered as the ironwood frame ground upwards into the bastion above and Lancer ambled in like he was the lord of the castle, not Roland. Maggot eyed the murder-holes with deep suspicion, and then followed the palfrey inside.

Roland shrugged. “There’s already been one attempt on both my sister’s life and my own since our father’s death,” he said, and all the jollity of the race evaporated from his handsome, boyish features. “Can’t be too careful.”

“Shit,” she hissed. “I can see why you’re not celebrating the Equinox here,” she commented, looking around and finding the castle bailey empty of all the accoutrements of celebration like a mummers’ platform and festive stalls.

“Not this year. We’re funding the festivities in the town though,” he said, “To make up for it. But we’re not hosting anything here. Elayne is devastated,” he added as he sprang lightly down from Lancer’s saddle and loosened the girth while a stable hand strode over to greet them. “And very angry with me.”

“Careful,” Vika advised as a second stable hand approached her. “She’s… not the friendliest.”

“Right…” the young man chirped, faltering. “Uh… you want to lead her in then?”

Vika saw her mare settled and rubbed down, and when the stable hand promised to feed her in an hour’s time, after the strain of the race had faded from her body, Vika relaxed a little. He did know what he was doing after all. “Don’t shut yourself in there with her though,” she advised him while the mare rolled her red eyes at them, and the young man nodded.

She hooked her saddle bags over one arm and strode after Roland to meet him at the castle entrance.

The next few hours passed in a blur, but after she’d bathed and been given a new set of clothes, which not only fitted her but actually suited her, by a tailor who seemed to have magicked them out of thin fucking air, Vika meandered down towards the great hall.

A massive wolfhound lay sprawled across the doorway ahead of her, and just as the sole of her boot touched the marble entrance hall floor at the base of the stairs, a young woman emerged from a doorway on the other side, and the wolfhound looked up. His shaggy, bull whip tail began to wag and he whined and wriggled on the floor like a puppy as the woman approached, unaware of Vika’s presence behind her on the stairs.

“Oh, Muffin!” she giggled, kneeling beside him and playing with his ears and his bearded chin.

Her dress — a silvery, iridescent blue that shifted as Vika stared at it — pooled around her like a cloud on a summer day, and Vika watched as the dog floundered into a sitting position and tried to lick the woman’s face. She leaned back, laughing, and then caught sight of Vika as she turned her face away.

Vika, a woman who rarely found herself without retort or reposte, stood speechless as the young lady looked up at her and parted her lips in a soft ‘oh’ of surprise.

Vika was no stranger to beauty. From milk maids to marquesses, she’d seen it all, but this woman, with her smooth skin and warm, honey-coloured hair coiled up in pearl-studded waves, her flowing silk dress and bright, blue-grey eyes, gave new meaning to the concept of beauty. “Fuck,” she breathed, too quite for the lady to hear.

“Hello,” the lady smiled. The dog had gone still and was staring at Vika as though he was still deciding whether to launch himself at her or let her approach. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” And with that, she rose like a dancer and crossed to her.

Standing in front of her, she was a foot shorter than Vika, but as she looked up into Vika’s face, the urge to kneel, to bow her head and give every shred of her soul to the woman surged so strongly in her chest she almost wept. Swallowing thickly, she managed, “Dame Vika. Of Sharkshoal Point.”

Something cleared in the woman’s face and she smiled so delightedly that Vika felt lightheaded. “You’re the knight my brother found!” she beamed.

Unable to do aught else, Vika bowed her head. “I am, Lady. If you’ll have me.”

“That remains to be seen,” she grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I hear you beat my brother in a race today,” she added and turned towards the great hall behind her. “Perhaps you’d care to spar with him tomorrow?”

“Will you be there to judge us?” Vika asked before she could stop herself.

“I suppose I should be, shouldn’t I?” Elayne said, pausing and looking back over her bare shoulder. “If you’re to be my knight,” she added, and as her dark eyes raked the length of Vika’s body from boot to crown of head, Vika shivered.

“I’ll be your knight, Lady,” she promised.

Elayne smiled brilliantly, and Vika bit her lip.

___

I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please consider reblogging to show your support as well as leaving a like and/or a comment.

| Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

[thatztyv]

Link

Description:

- Jack and Kennedy link after three years (In honor of Jazz and Tae linking back up after three years 😩)

Word Count:

- 1.8k

Kᴇɴɴᴇᴅʏ Dᴏᴡɴs

(ken-nuh-dee duh-ouns)

Jack Harlow | @ jackharlow

Tell Kenn unblock me on ig

23:17 • 10/21/23 • 3M views

36,472 Retweets  508 Quotes  278.6k Likes 

⭐️ | @stunna.girl

Oh shit, after three yearsss??

It's a Lifestyle🥂 | @parisndiamonds

Kennedy!! Gworl come get yo man back 😩

🚀 | @tothemoon

I did not see this coming at all 👀

JACK HARLOW UPDATES©️ | @ jackxworld

We finna go blow up her dms rn 😭

Boy Tears💧 | @cryformeimperfect

YESSSS

💐 | @fairygworl

Nooooo 💔

.★.

fivestarr☆ | @kennedyloaded

Unblocked 😘

13:25 • 10/22/23 • 1.3M views

4,627 Retweets  532 Quotes  105.8k Likes

Kenn's World ⭐️ | @ kennkenn

OMGEEEEE

Boy Tears💧 | @cryformeimperfect

Oh shit getting real now

Chemistry Chick 🧪| @ inthelab

y'all calm down, all she did was unblock him 😭

🦋 | @butterflyqueenn

Mane get the gang back together

💐 | @fairygworl

Let's see how long this last 🌚

.★.

"So y'all", I sighed as I set my camera up on the bathroom counter. "I know what y'all thinking.. and yes we are linking."

I looked in the mirror as I put on some lip gloss.

"He supposed to be on his way over here and gone text me when he outside."

"Ian gone lie y'all I'm nervous as hell. Ian seen him in a lil minute", I said as I picked up my phone.

I smiled to myself before showing the camera the notification on my phone. "He's here."

jack💔

Outside

I stared at the camera for a minute.

"Let's not keep him waiting."

.☆.

"Oh my gosh", I sighed as I got in his car.

"Why you say it like that?", he chuckled.

"I don't even know but hey", I said being shy as I leaned back against the door.

"Hey", he said softly and leaned over the center piece to give me a hug.

I hugged him back and pulled away.

"I see you vlogging", he said with a smile as he turned the interior lights on.

"Yeah."

"I thought this was gone be easy", he said as I propped my camera up on his dashboard.

"What you mean easy?", I asked arching my brow.

"I thought when you got in here I was just gone.. but I ain't seen you in forever", he said turning to me and smiling.

I looked at him and my cheeks got hot.

We got quiet for a minute, just looking in each others eyes.

"So how you been?", he asked.

"Mmm I'm alright", I said and looked at my nails.

"You be taking forever to text back", he hummed.

"Oh don't even start that cause you be taking days to text back."

"I be busy."

"Busy doing what? Youn be in the studio all day everyday and you ain't on tour right now."

"How you know that?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I just know....But you look good", I hummed looking over at him before looking back at my camera.

"Thank you. You look wonderful", he said making me smile hard as fuck, I had to cover my face.

"Thank you", I hummed.

"You nervous or something?"

"A lil bit...Can we go eat?", I said before I put my hair over my shoulder.

"Yeah. What you want?", he answered with a light chuckle.

"I don't know. What's around here?"

"You should be telling me, you live here", he chuckled.

"Chile I don't be outside like that."

He shook his head and pulled out his phone.

"Fast food? A restaurant? Hibachi?", he asked as he opened his map app.

"I got the taste for some hot wings."

"So Buffalo Wild Wings?"

"No."

He looked up from his phone and over at me.

"What?", I laughed.

"Then where else you getting hot wings from?"

"Wingstop. Zaxby's."

He playfully rolled his eyes before looking back at his phone.

"Let's see which one's closer."

"Y'all", I sighed as I looked at my camera. "I hope he don't try to kidnap me while I'm in his car."

"Chill", he chuckled as he kept looking at his map.

I chuckled before looking back over at him. I quietly admired him before he leaned over to show me something on his phone.

"Damn you iced out huh", I said and grasped his hand, looking at the rings on his fingers. "You gotta be froze in this ho to talk."

He laughed. "Really Kenn."

I laughed with him.

"Nah I'm just playing", I hummed as I grabbed his phone. "We can go to this one."

"Alright", he said before putting his car in drive.

I handed him his phone back.

"Let me put my seatbelt on. Cause I remember you used to act like you was a Nascar driver", I hummed as I put my seatbelt on.

He just chuckled.

"Where you be going cause I don't never see you outside."

"I don't- I don't be in the streets."

"You tryna say I be in the streets?"

"Yeah", I said and looked over at him. "I was lurking one day and I was just like wow."

"Lurking where?", he chuckled.

"..Just on the internet", I said making us laugh.

"What you found out bout me?"

"I was like he in the club?! What? He having a time ain't it", I said covering my face as I laughed.

"I ain't start going to the club til I stopped messing with you. Had to do something with my free time."

"Club life huh", I said and patted the corner of my eyes.

"Nah nah nah. I found friends and they introduced me to the club."

"Damn... so you saying you ain't have friends when you was with me?"

"I had friends but I was with you majority of the time. But I started hanging out with more people."

"Oh so you got a new group of friends.”

"Oh my god”, he said with a chuckle.

"I'm just saying", I laughed.

"So what took you so long, cause you was dodging me", he started.

"No no no. I wasn't dodging you I was tryna edit a vlog and upload-", I started before he cut me off.

"No not today, I'm talking about in general. Cause you had everybody thinking I'm the problem."

"Had them thinking it was you? You had a video shoot", I said as I glanced over at him.

"I had to go to New York. But before that- you was dodging me like crazy."

"Whatever", I said and playfully rolled my eyes. "How I'm dodging but you don't text back? Make it make sense boo."

"And why you tell everybody I blocked you on Twitter?", I asked.

"Cause you did", he simply replied.

"I mean."

"I mean they kept telling me you'd link with me and do a video. And I was wondering how that was gone happen and I'm blocked", he said arching his brow.

"Yeah but you had my number. I sent you my new number."

"I obviously didn't have it saved. I just saved it."

"Mmm", I hummed.

.☆.

"I'm so geeked", I said as I set my camera up to face me on the table. "Tell me why he paid for my food?!"

"Chile.. he was all like I got you. Just go find us a good table", I said mocking his voice. "Then gone smile at me.. almost went weak in the knees."

I shook my head as I looked over at him by the drink fountain.

"Gone have me falling all over again."

.☆.

"Questions while we wait?", I asked putting my phone down.

"Sure", he hummed, turning to face me.

"You start", I said.

"You ever felt like I disrespected you on the internet?"

"Disrespected me?.. uh I feel like once you got around your friends you kinda did. Cause I thought we agreed we wasn't gone speak on each other."

"When?", he asked, arching his brow at me.

"It wasn't necessarily you it was yo lil group, team or whatever."

"What they was saying?"

"You know-", I said and tilted my head. "You know what they was saying and posting... I was like daamn that's me."

He let out a deep breath before sitting back. "You gotta be more specific."

I leaned forward. "Should I bring up the context?"

He chuckled.

"People was texting and calling me talking bout 'why they speaking on you' and 'why they got yo name in-' you know. It was from people you around."

"They was making videos?"

"You acting dumb", I said sitting back and crossing my arms. "You acting like you don't know and stuff. Boy don't be acting all Hollywood."

"I'm not acting Hollywood, I'm just trying to see what you talking about", he said with a laugh.

"You know what.. we both just gone be clueless then", I hummed. "Ask me another question."

"What have you learned from dating?"

"What have I learned from dating?", I asked then arched my brow at him. "Dating what?"

"Dating in general or whatever the fuck you been doing, you been living", he chuckled.

"I don't be dating. I'm just lifing."

He smacked his lips as he looked at me with a be for real expression.

"Didn't you just say we not being Hollywood and what the the fuck is lifing?"

"I'm not being Hollywood. I'm being so for real. I just been chilling”, I chuckled.

"Right", he said playfully before he squinted his eyes at me. "So who was that one dude?"

"What dude?! You imagining things. Ian date nobody after you. But you on the other hand", I said and uncrossed my arms. "How many girls four? Five?"

"You pushing it", he laughed.

"You was just living I don't blame you", I chuckled.

.☆.

"We good right?", he asked as he wiped his hands clean.

"I think.. you gotta ask yourself that."

"You think I got a grudge against you?", he asked and tilted his head.

"Ion know", I said before sipping my drink.

"I don't have nothing against you.. I always wanted to see you win and shine."

"Ok love that", I hummed. "I just got one last question."

"Ok. Ask away", he hummed.

"Did you ever miss me after we broke up?"

"If I'm being real, yeah."

"Do you still miss me?"

He sighed before he chuckled. "How you say your outro. Thanks for watching. Like and comment."

He picked my camera up and turned it to him.

"Jack", I chuckled. "You miss me don't you?"

"Nah I don't", he said looking dead at the camera with a straight face.

"Look at me and say it."

He looked up and locked eyes with me.

"Say you don't miss me", I said taunting him.

"I don't-", he started. "How you turn this camera off?"

I gently took it out his grasp and turned it to me.

"Obviously he doesn't want to admit he misses me but that's alright. He doesn't have to say it, I know he does", I chuckled as I looked at the camera.

[c0ld0utside]

Hi💜💜💜

Firstly I just wanted to say that I loved your writing, it's very good and I loved the story you wrote about the human father and the monster son, I would like part 2 of this story if it wasn't too much trouble (of course only if you want to do it)

What’s this, a part 2?

Yeah, it’s a part two. 

Joey and Tim back at it again.

Warnings (Let me know if I need to add any): Mention of force-feeding, mention of bondage, mention of “Joey”!Reader’s horns are filed down, mention of “Joey”!Reader getting muzzled, infantilization(?)

It’s been a few months since you were adopted by Tim, and the first few weeks with him were rough, to say the least. Any chance you got, you’d either bite, headbutt, and scratch him, or you’d make a break for it. This led to him having to file your horns down after one of them nicked his cheek and putting a muzzle on you after you bit him so hard he had to get stitches. Tim wasn’t happy about it at all.

He wasn’t happy about having to force-feed you, either. He didn’t know why you wouldn’t eat the meals he made you. Tim made sure to include everything since he didn’t know what your species ate. Meats, seafood, dairy, grains, greens, fruits…you either wouldn’t eat it or would find a way to cough it up. Tim had to settle on making you drink smoothies and protein shakes.

“I hate doing this to you. You’re not an animal, sweetness. Stop making me treat you like one.” He’d say, rubbing your head gently as he tried to help you fall asleep. It would’ve been nice had your arms and legs not been tied together with rope. “Anyone else would treat you like one, but I don’t. I know you’re sentient enough. You’re not a dog. Just work with me, okay?”

“I’m doing so much for you, you have no idea. Can you even fully understand me? Probably not. I wonder what that’s like- well, I kind of can. It’s been a while though.”

Begrudgingly, you did. You stopped lashing out and let him feed you food that wasn’t put through the blender. You pay attention when he reads you stories and shows you those silly things on his “phone.” Tim called them “educational videos,” leaving out the fact that they were targeted at pre-schoolers and elementary school kids. You fight the urge to run whenever he has you trace the cursive prints in the writing workbooks he bought.

Tim is especially understanding whenever you voice your hatred for math with hisses and growls during the middle of a problem. It was easy at first- adding, subtracting, multiplying, dividing…and then fractions and decimals came in. Once you got the hang of reading and writing, Tim enrolled you in online classes. “Remember to put on those contacts I got you,”  He’ll say at least ten minutes before your first class starts.

Unlucky for you, Tim works from home as a translator, so that means no escape attempts during the day. He changed up the lock to your bedroom so it locks from the outside and nailed your window shut. “I’m really sorry sweetness, I don’t trust you entirely just yet.” Tim had explained. “It’s fair, right? You don’t completely trust me, and I don’t completely trust you to not run away.”

Today’s different. Much to his surprise, you’ve curled up into his side, watching as he translates a book into French. Tim’s surprise melts into pure joy. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer as he works. 

“What’d you learn today?” Tim asks, gaze shifting back to his laptop screen. “How genes work,” You reply simply. “It made me wonder who my sire is. I take after them more.” 

Tim hums in reply. “You’re a funky little guy, I’ll give you that.” He says, gently scratching your head, fingers running through your…mane? Hair? He doesn’t know what to call it. “Does your species have a name?” Tim asks, sounding genuinely curious. You shake your head.

“My parent never told me much about my “species.” We just are, I guess. That and to stay away from others because they’ll try to kill me.” You say.

“Like bears?” Tim assumes. You can only shrug. “Probably. How do bears behave?” He shuts his laptop. “Alrighty, documentary time,” Tim says, getting up to put his laptop away. 

“What about your job?” You ask, sitting up on the couch. “No need to worry. I’m almost done and I could use a break, anyway.” He answers dismissively, plugging the device in to charge on the counter. Walking back over to you, Tim grabs the TV remote off the coffee table and turns it on. Opening up some streaming service, he turns on a nature documentary and sits down next to you.

“Isn’t this nice?” Tim asks. “Sure,” you offer, reaching up to feel your horns. They’re coming back in, slowly but surely. Tim promised that he wouldn’t file them down again unless you tried to hurt him again. Which is fair. He takes notice of your movements, expression turning apologetic. 

On the TV, the narrator observes a herd of zebras. “...Is it still a firm no?” You pipe up. Tim lets you have online friendships with the other kids in your classes, but won’t let you see them in person. “On meeting up with Shay and Lucas?” 

Tim sighs. “Sweetness, you know it’s dangerous. Other humans aren’t accepting like I am, and I don’t want you to be taken away and prodded at by scientists. You’re a person, not an-” “-Animal. I know.” You cut him off irritatedly. 

“Hey,” He says, tone softening. “...How about this. You can meet up with them, but I come with you. Deal?” 

“Is that the only option I have?” You ask. “Mhm,” Tim hums.

“Fine. Deal.”

-

I'm taking advantage of my break to catch up on asks instead of writing an essay. No regrets. As always, criticism is welcome.

May I just say, you're looking divine today. Have you ever had a fruit bowl before? You should try it.

[officerjennie]

Geraskier prompt: Geralt is hired to kill something that is driving a seaside town to madness. He is told where to go and that he'll know the foul thing when he finds it. Its Jaskier as a siren who only sings at night (loudly in a cave) and jaskier immediately tries to seduce geralt.

It might be two years later, but. Ta-da.

CW: Monster-fucking, light blood caused by nails, wolf witchers have knots, knotting, oral sex, intercourse

Summary: Essentially the prompt. 13.5k of Geralt trying to find out what's bothering the village before fucking it

Taglist: at the bottom - let me know if you want on/off it!

It was a rare day indeed when Roach refused to move onward.

Geralt murmured soothing words to the uneasy mare, her hoof scuffing at the trail she’d come to an abrupt stop on and refused to go so much as a step further down no matter how reassuring he’d attempted to be. Even as stubborn as she could be she’d never stopped like this before, jerking her head up to tug on the reins he held gently in his left hand, her nostrils flaring as she snorted her anger at him.

Not even his heightened senses could enlighten him to what on earth had set her off. It smelled the same here as it had a mile back: muted molding from the soggy fallen leaves on the path, salt in the air carried past the trees from the ocean he couldn’t quite hear yet, faded scent trails from the sparse animal life that had crossed the path as well. No noise had reached him that would cause concern either, and the insect songs and chattering of angry squirrels above didn’t alert him to any intruders around.

There were days that Geralt trusted Roach’s instincts far more than his own, but today was not one of those days. He calmed her unease the best he could, slowly stroking her mane until her head leaned against him, not moving until she was back to nipping at him as she always did - albeit with less sass than usual.

He did not try riding her any further. It took nearly three hours to make a trek that should have been only half of one, Geralt leading Roach onward with the promise of a nice scrub down and as much hay as her belly could fit in it as soon as they made it to the small villa he knew the road led to.

Roach was not convinced any good would come of her putting even a single hoof further down that road, but she followed at her own excruciatingly slow pace, making her feelings known every step of the way.

It had been only a handful of years since he’d been this close to the ocean, so close now that as the village came into view he could hear the soft hush of water against sand in the distance. If he remembered correctly he had walked this way before, Roach having been left in a stable in trusted hands as he’d tracked down a monster that had been eating livestock - farm horses included - and destroying the livelihoods of several families that had relied on milk and cheese and grain as their only income. Perhaps the ocean was bothering her. Not likely, since she’d been near it further up the coast, but the thought still allowed Geralt to dismiss any further concerns with a near silent grunt, and with his own shoulders relaxing it was easier (if only minutely) to convince her to journey the last few hundred feet to the very small guest stable attached to the traveler’s inn located on the outskirts of the village.

At least she didn’t protest being left alone there too much, save for the hard nip she gave his arm when he went to leave.

It was both a boon and a curse that it really was an inn and not a tavern. Geralt would have thanked some deity for the quiet that met him when he entered but at this point in his life he doubted they cared - at least not for him; others seemed blessed enough with their gifts (though others still he did not at all envy for their accrued favor. The gods were fickle creatures, and not wholly good by any means). It meant his ears wouldn’t be ringing from drunken fools not knowing how to keep quiet, but it also meant there would be little ale as well; a simple sniff of the air confirmed that for him.

How empty the inn was, however, was definitely a little concerning. Only his enhanced hearing let him know the entire building wasn’t empty; somewhere in the back, more than likely in some pantry or kitchen from the distinct clinking noises, someone was rummaging around for something and mumbling while they did. Other than that, there was no one save for a mouse he heard scurrying about its business somewhere close by.

No one to even check him in for a room, or stable boarding either. He didn’t really need a room given the time of day but he really couldn’t just leave Roach without guaranteeing she could stay - last thing he needed was to hunt someone down for selling her or stealing her, or letting her wander off on her own.

He hated having to snoop to find someone. Geralt closed his eyes and breathed in slowly through his nose, trying to keep the irritation down, so used to humans that he knew exactly how this one would respond to him popping in out of nowhere. Used to it didn’t mean it wasn’t frustrating, though he’d long ago stopped trying to convince them that he wasn’t there to eat their children or make off with their valuables, or whatever crazed idea this village might have about witchers.

Considering the tall tales he’d already heard, it could be anything, and that was not making the growing headache go away.

But, standing there wouldn’t solve any of his issues. He begrudgingly walked towards whoever was making noise farther into the building, making a conscious effort to make noise himself as he walked, and taking note as to how unused the place felt. The tables he passed seemed clean but too clean, as if no one used them. The chairs were all pushed in neat and tidy, the counter having no signs of recent stains from food or drink, and the only smells of humans was, well, only one human. More than likely the one that was griping after a louder bang had stopped their rummaging.

It was all putting him on edge, though he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. An unused, clean inn at the edge of a small village shouldn’t be that off-putting - but Roach didn’t freak out over nothing.

Around the corner of the bar was indeed the door to a pantry, which was right next door to a small kitchen. It was in the pantry that he found a rather stout woman, more than likely in her mid 30’s (though his understanding of human ages had always been a bit hazy), who was cursing some jar of preserves that had fallen on her foot. At least it wasn’t broken, considering the empty state of her shelves that was no small blessing.

“Got any room at the stables?”

He winced at how quickly she whipped around at him, holding the jar as if she might bash her startler’s skull in with it. Hadn’t been his intention to give her such a fright but considering his track record he wasn’t sure what he expected.

“Couldn’t have given at least a little warning before sneaking up on me like that?”

He shrugged one shoulder as he watched her thankfully lower her weaponized preserved fruit. She gingerly placed it by one other jar on the bottom shelf, dusting her hands off on the old apron she had tied around her waist.

“Well. Answer’s yes, as long as you didn’t bring a whole herd with you.”

“Only one.”

She nodded, still breathing carefully seemingly to calm her own nerves. But after a second more she gave a single nod, successfully collecting herself enough to look up at him with sharp eyes. “I expect payment upfront. No loans nor future services accepted. Might have once upon a time, but not in this day and age. Promises won’t put food on the table.”

“Or into the pantry.”

She swept her eyes around the pantry once with a frown, agreeing with him on that. Then she shooed him out of her way, sweeping past him to busy herself in the kitchen next door. “Imagine you’ll want a room as well, yes? Can’t promise there’ll be no cobwebs but I’ve fresh linen, and the stew’s on. Not much meat in it but it’ll do.”

The promise of a hot meal was tempting, but Geralt’s nerves were still on edge. He wasn’t really sure if he was supposed to join her in the kitchen so he stood awkwardly in the doorway, caught on some innocuous thing she’d said. 

‘Not in this day and age.’ Could mean anything. Could mean, like her pantry shouted at him, that she’d run into tough times. War had been an increasing threat from the south, which meant those that dared to travel were doing less and less of it anyway, sticking to areas they knew well and sticking with heavy guard. It meant when groups did seek lodging they usually paid more, for security and for the extra people with them, but with less and less travel it meant those groups were few and far in-between.

But that statement wasn’t by itself, wasn’t without the context that had him doubting the security of this area ever since Roach had dug her heels in earlier. So Geralt just couldn’t let that go, chewing over it as the woman bustled about getting a bowl down and boiling water for what smelled like herbal tea.

“You always this empty?”

He had interrupted her, and it was a conversational shift she hadn’t wanted if the purse of her lips had anything to say about it. Her eyes hardened as she dipped a ladle into the stew, dishing out a hefty portion before placing it near him on the counter.

“No. Well, yes, lately, but it’s not normal since I know that’s what you’re asking.”

At least it seemed like she was willing to share her tale, though not before settling them in for some tea and food. And not before getting her coin either. Once they were settled in at the bar, the only two in the whole place, she gave a pointed look towards his coin purse until he untied it and handed over what he owed her. 

To her credit, she didn’t inspect it like many did. Didn’t look the coin over just to make sure it wasn’t fake, as if he’d had the time or skill to craft realistic fake ones. Not that he didn’t doubt others could - he’d met some frugal and crafty wizards in his time - but damned if he looked like he could do that sort of shit.

She didn’t even bother putting it away after a once-over counting of it, taking one big slurp of her own bowl of stew before starting her tale, wiping her mouth on a rag as she began.

“Used to be a decently busy town. Nothing like the big cities or even the towns on the busy roads, of course - not that I’d know much about them. No real experience traveling, just you get talkative stragglers. Folks that can’t shut their mouths about where they’ve been, as if it makes them any more important than the ones that have to clean up after them.

“Anyway, it’s been a few months since the travelers stopped coming. Blame the war on that one.” She grumbled a bit at that as Geralt eyed his own stew, noticing the lack of meat and grimacing at the amount of carrots. He hated cooked carrots.

“But that’s not what really has been going on. Something...something has gotten to the townsfolk.”

“Could be a bit vaguer.”

He almost regretted his sass at the look the woman gave him. Sometimes it was easy to forget he was a powerful witcher when one gave him a scolding look. He just grunted and ate one of his carrots, managing to swallow it down despite the disgust he felt at the texture.

“Around a month ago a voice started to ring out at night. Not sure of the exact time but it’s consistent, and it...it does something to people.” Her face pinched up in confusion, and she took a sip of her tea before she continued. “I’m not entirely sure what it’s doing exactly, but I can tell you the effect it has on them. Damned near every single person in the town starts going crazy for each other. Well. All the adults, anyway, but we don’t have many kids ‘round here. Most of them are off in our sister town.”

That was a bit puzzling. “No kids?”

She shrugged, waving her hand as if he wasn’t asking the right question. “Most of the folks ‘round here don’t actually live here. It’s mainly for work. The soil isn’t great for farming, most of the profit is from fishing, and it’s a rather new place anyway. Families haven’t moved in yet. They just threw up shacks to sleep in in-between fishing trips.

“But they’ve started going nuts. Every night it starts around the same time, all spurred on by that voice, and honestly you should be glad to hear the kids are elsewhere for it. Don’t need them scarred for the rest of their lives over this nonsense.”

Geralt shifted in his seat to face her more, studying her with a steady gaze. “Some voice driving people crazy. Any idea where the voice is coming from?”

“The sea. Least that’s what it sounds like. Haven’t really gone investigating, don’t really wanna get scarred myself.”

“How violent are they?” This did not sound good. He ran a mental list of his potions as he always did when preparing for something potentially dangerous, not liking that his only informant did not seem to know much of anything of what was happening. There were so many sea creatures and he’d faced all of None before, and if it was this bad already he didn’t have time to travel back to Kaer Morhen to ask Vesemir if he had any advice for him.

No time to study up on what to do. All he could do is hope his skills and knowledge were enough as they were.

His mental preparations were cut short by a snort, the woman snickering at him for a minute with mirth in her eyes. “No, witcher, violent is the wrong word for it. Not violent crazy. More like they can’t get enough of each other.”

Gods but did Geralt hate when people talked around issues. He grunted at her before drinking down some of his own tea, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Speak plainly, else I won’t know how to help you.”

“Oh aren’t you a dear?” Her sweet tone was not aided by her own rolled eyes. “They grab each other, no matter where they’re at or who they are. It’s like an open-air brothel ‘cept no one pays for nothing. Not really a sight I’d wish on anyone.”

That...was certainly something. He frowned further, trying to work that over in his head as he stirred around the carrots in his bowl.

“Fucking?”

“Put bluntly, yes.”

“And a voice spurs this on?”

“Is what I’ve been saying, yes.”

Her annoyed tone aside, that at least sounded like something Geralt was peripherally knowledgeable about. Couldn’t quite put his finger on the creature but he was certain he’d read something of it before, back in the library at Kaer Morhen, searching through dusty tomes to research a monster he’d been hired to hunt down near the keep.

Being so old made it hard to recall specifics. He shook his head, sighing as he gave up on that route for the time being. Could try and remember later, even without remembering anything he could get a first hand account of what this specific creature was doing to this specific town.

“Can you give me anything else? What the voice is saying, what direction it comes from - other than ‘the sea’,” he added the last before the woman could sass him, as he was certain she was going to. The turn of her lips told him he was right, too.

“Doesn’t really say much of anything. Nothing I can understand anyway.” She finished off her tea and stared at the bottom of her cup as if it had personally offended her. “Some sort of language probably but not mine. It sings. Not a bad melody if you care for music, though I’d rather it not.”

A singing beast, then. And if it sounded like a language then it was likely sentient, which muddled things up a bit. He scratched the bridge of his nose, wishing he’d listened to Roach and just not come this way. It all sounded like far too much trouble, especially given the state of the inn. Not like she could pay him much of anything, and he really didn’t want to get involved in this.

But, trouble sure loved to drag him into it.

“I’ll deal with it.”

He didn’t like how easily he accepted the mission she hadn’t even asked him to take. 

Nor did he like how little rest he got. He had gone up to one of her free rooms (which was all of them, given the state of the village) and watched as she groused and fussed over it before he finally shooed her away - something he was sure he would regret later, given she was the one feeding him for his stay here, and given the look she sent him as she shut his door. The quiet of the empty inn had promised him some form of rest but it had been an empty promise, as sleep evaded him as it was often wont to do.

Night found him no more well rested than he’d been. He left the inn with all of his weapons double and triple checked to be in their place on his person, cracking his neck as he stopped by the connected stable to say hello to Roach. 

Given the bite she gave to his shoulder, she was not ready to forgive him yet. The apple he brought made her at least consider it, so he knew he’d get back in her good graces eventually.

The woman had pointed him in a more specific direction before he had gone off to his room so Geralt knew which road (of the few that the village had) to take towards the sea. He made sure to go at least before night was fully upon them, dusk still touching the sky above with its colors, hoping to avoid the ‘open air brothel’. Luck was on his side with this at least. He saw not a single person as he walked down the dusty path that quickly turned to sand, walking the salt and pepper beach as he headed for an outcropping of rocks that jutted out into the tide.

Chances were that he wouldn’t be able to reach the creature from the beach, but it was a start. Geralt hardly expected to hunt down the thing and solve the issue in one night. Best to gather as much information as possible and take this as slowly as needed, especially given it was both sentient and not killing people.

Wasn’t an issue he could let be for long though. It might not be killing people but it was certainly disrupting their lives in a way that could harm them.

The beach was quiet save for the sussing of the water and his own footfalls. He leapt up on some rocks when he reached them, stepping carefully as to not slip and make a fool of himself on their slick surface, walking out a way to better survey the surrounding water. They weren’t the only rocks one could climb on out at that beach but they were the only ones connected to the land, some jutting out instead from the open water, something that he would not be stepping a foot in until he knew the creature better. He would have the sure advantage on land, had good footing and experience on his side there, but it was a poor day indeed when something managed to drag him underwater.

Sure, he’d won that sort of fight before, but he’d rather not repeat it. Close calls came a little too close when he couldn’t even get oxygen.

He sat down on the rocks to wait for the coming music, reigning back in his wandering thoughts, running one finger over the surface of the rocks beneath him as he waited. The air was thick with salt, sea mist leaving his skin damp, the color and light slowly leaving the sky as night took it over. 

Shouldn’t be too long of a wait if the woman’s accounts were right. He closed his eyes and relaxed his muscles to keep them from staying too tight, going one group at a time to be sure he didn’t cause himself any injury if a fight was to come. 

The singing came shortly.

It started out soft, hardly a whisper above the sea’s own song. A hum that Geralt hardly recognized was there, only tickling at the edge of his consciousness, and it was only thanks to his witcher’s blood that he did not become bespelled. He knew this because he felt the touch of magic. Felt it buzzing against his skin, sending ghost sensations of what the magic was meant to do.

The music became louder.

Geralt opened his eyes, feeling the ghosting heat crawling over his body and shaking it off. He squinted at the moving water, searching for any sort of shapes within it that might give away the location of the creature. In order to project its song it should have to be above the water but he knew so little of it that even that assumption could be wrong; it could be using something else to project the song, a beacon of sorts perhaps, and not actually be singing out in the open at all.

At least the song was a pleasant one. Nothing that grated against his eardrums and made him want to tear them out - he’d heard plenty worse, no matter that this one had such interesting side effects.

There. On the rocks. Geralt stilled further, staring just off east from where he was seated, seeing something on one of the outcroppings - how he hadn’t noticed it climbing up onto them he wasn’t sure, but that didn’t matter at the moment because he had clear sight of the creature. 

It wasn’t one to worry about its safety, sitting so open like that. If he could assign typical human genders to the creature he would say it looked male, his chest bare to the night save for a good dusting of hair curling, dampened down by the sea he had just come from. And it was so very clearly a sea monster, light reflecting from the stars and moon above off of a brilliant scaled tail that dipped down into the water - his colored sight was not good enough for such a late hour but he could make out greens and blues tinting the reflected light.

A flashy creature, then, one whose design was to be seen.

His eyes were closed, long lashes resting against his cheeks, expression surprisingly soft as he sang his song out towards the village. Brown hair clumped together by water still tousled in the salty mist and wind that graced them, his slender form belying a strength Geralt was sure the creature held.

A rather attractive, flashy creature. Not that it mattered - Geralt frowned ever so slightly at himself, shoving that thought off into a corner to be covered with dust and forgotten. It did not matter if this creature was repulsive or attractive. All that mattered was if it was sentient, and that it was affecting the village and all the lives within it. 

He sat there, studying the creature as it sang, watching for intent or any other emotions within its expressions, and was surprised that he never once seemed to notice Geralt watching him. For at least an hour he sang, his music shifting in style and tone, going from non lyrical to a weaving melody of what certainly sounded like words but not like any he’d heard before. He had the face of someone performing, of someone putting his all into what he was doing, taking breaths from his core and not holding a single expression, letting it change as the music changed.

For that hour, Geralt watched him and let the music flow over him. And after that hour was done he watched the creature slip back into the water, scales flashing in the moonlight, slipping away until Geralt could see not a sign that anyone other than him had been there.

Geralt waited a while longer, relaxed and breathing in the salt air, before finally rolling his shoulders and standing back up. The tide had receded since he had jumped up onto the rock, making reaching the beach faster, the sand wet and dampening his footfalls as he headed back to see the aftermath that waited for him in the village.

It was the smell that hit him first. His nostrils flared as he caught the scent of arousal and sweat at the edge of the village, confirming even without seeing anything that the woman’s story had been right.

Geralt thought it best to avoid the randy villagers, though he was curious as to how long they were affected. Was it just until the creature's song ended? Did it last well into the night? What other sorts of hypnotism could this creature cause with its voice alone?

His voice. Geralt stayed clear of the village despite his curiosities, deciding it best to head back to the inn and meditate. 

The innkeeper was not awake when he returned. It was blessedly silent, eerily so. He paused in the front doorway, weight shifting between his legs, and decided to not go in yet.

Roach was far from settled into the stable. Uneasy, nostrils flaring, pacing in her stall. He called out softly to her, and as he got closer he saw the sass had turned right into fear. No angry nips at his shoulder, just wide-eyed and prepared to bolt if he was dumb enough to open the stall door. 

So he didn't open it. He climbed over it with ease - and Vesemir would have called him all kinds of stupid for getting into a small stall with an upset and scared horse. 

It was stupid, but he wasn't fragile. He knew Roach well enough to calm her, though it took time and plenty of quick steps to keep her from accidentally smushing him up against a wall. 

Worry gnawed at him even as Roach's breathing evened out. His voice was calm, quiet, fingers finding that spot she loved scratched near her ear - but Geralt had never seen her this afraid, and did not know the nature of this beast he was up against. 

"It's alright," he said, soothing his hand down her neck and giving it a few good pats. She leaned heavily into the affection, unable to tell he was lying. 

And morning came far too soon. 

Despite the rather decent bed that had been made just for him, Geralt spent the night with Roach. He’d managed to meditate some after she'd calmed down, only brought out of it by the stray worried knicker or uneasy snort. 

Age had certainly made some memories spotty, but meditation had brought him a bit closer to some sort of answer. If not from specific knowledge, then from experience. No exact creatures had come to mind as he'd scratched Roach behind the ears, no name to give it for all his thinking, but Geralt had fought plenty of monsters. Both sentient and creature. 

The best thing he could do was find out which it- he was, and find out exactly what he wanted. 

With the sun up and his stomach giving loud protests, he finally went back to the inn, with a promise to Roach that he'd be back. She flattened her ears at him but didn't bother to bite, most of the fight scared out of her. 

Either that, or she was too damned tired for it. She'd slept like shit. 

The fight had not been scared out of the innkeeper. Her sass was just as strong that morning, her night's rest uninterrupted by the town's happenings, and Geralt started to wonder over his breakfast why exactly this one woman, out of the whole town, was unaffected. 

He didn’t bother asking, doubting she’d have any insight into why that might be.

After breakfast, he went up to the room she’d tidied up for him, deciding that mediation might help him get his thoughts in order - or remember something that might help him. Over the decades he’d read countless books: scouring the libraries at Kaer Morhen before they were destroyed, stopping by book stores when he had some spare coin, even letting his fingers stray whenever he was invited into a home that had them on display. Not that he ever stole any, but if he had time to crack a spine or two he would, always on the lookout for more information.

In his line of work, information meant life or death. He hoped he had some locked away in his memories.

The inn was quiet enough for his needs. Geralt shut the door behind him, kneeling in the middle of the floor, and breathed slowly. Willed his thoughts to go still, his body to relax, his senses to take everything in but only process what he needed. 

Once he was quiet, once the world was just at the edges of his perception, he began to dig in his own mind. 

Books upon books. Countless scrolls, endless conversations with witchers young and old. Huntsmen whose tongues got looser as they drank. Geralt could not remember them all, but his memory was better than most, if only because he knew how to trigger them. Decades of experience only needed a touch to be untapped, but try as he might Geralt could not recall anything about a creature that sang from the sea.

Hours passed, and it felt like minutes. Geralt came back to himself with a sharp inhale, and a slow exhale.

He did not know what this creature was, and he was unprepared.

With a roll of his shoulders, stretching the ever sore muscles there, he glanced towards the window. It would be dark again shortly. He didn’t have much time.

The innkeeper had more stew boiling over the fire. She didn’t even look at him as he came down the stairs, busying herself this way and that, keeping the place neat and clean despite its lack of use. Without pause, she poured him a bowl and sat it on a table, waving him towards it before busying herself all the way to the pantry. 

He didn’t dare leave it, not willing to waste food or earn her ire. Decades of experience also told him who shouldn’t be trifled with.

It was with no further information that Geralt tightened his sword straps that evening, leaving the inn as colors started to touch the sky. He frowned up at the oranges and yellows, hearing Roach whinny softly in the stables nearby, and wished he had taken her elsewhere. The distress wasn’t good for her, and she didn’t feel anything but that in this village.

By morning, if he hadn’t figured out how to solve the village’s sea creature problem, he would take her elsewhere and come back alone. It’s the least he could do for her.

The wind blew softly that evening, snatching up the long strands of his hair and making them dance and tickle his face. He snorted a few times as he took the long way to the beach, still not willing to witness first hand what the creature was making the townsfolk do - though it would be better for him to see its effect, there were certain lines even his profession couldn’t make him cross. Town wide orgies caused by a man with a fishtail singing was, it turned out, one of those lines. As he found himself on the beach again, watching the sunset, he hoped it wasn’t one he’d come across too terribly often.

Sand soft under his boots, Geralt made his way to the water’s edge. He inhaled deeply, catching no whiff of the creature, though he hadn’t smelled it the night before either. Though he dared not close his eyes, he listened as best he could. Seagulls in the distance, water rushing over sand and hitting the rocks, wind rustling in the trees just at the end of the beach.

Nothing else, save for his own breath and heartbeats. He was alone above the water.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t here. Squinting into the waves, he saw crabs floating with the tide. Little fish darting here and there, too quiet for him to hear, drowned out by the sound of the sea.

It could be just as quiet. He- Geralt frowned, cocking his head so his hair stopped tickling his face. He could be there with Geralt and there was a chance Geralt wouldn’t even know, his movements hidden by the sun’s bright reflection on the water, the sound deafened by everything else around him.

Would do better to hide and wait, see what happened. Though there weren’t really places to hide that were safe. Behind the rocks might obscure him from sight, but by the time he’d left the night before the rocks were in water.

Not deep water, but in water. Where the creature was. And Geralt’s chances of survival were much higher when he was out of the water.

The sun was getting too low to stand there and think much longer. Geralt looked over the water once more, slowly, trying to catch any movement that seemed out of place. Nothing stuck out to him, nothing called his attention, so he turned towards the rocks once more.

Safety aside, hiding was his best option, so he huddled down and waited for the creature to sing.

Dusk darkened the sky, colors fading from view. Geralt kept himself relaxed, not wanting his muscles tense, his senses open to the world around him. Hands clasped gently in front of him, balancing on the balls of his feet, waiting for any sign that the creature was back.

Movement nearby caught his attention, his eyes sharp as he turned his head, squinting as he listened.

That voice, low over the water. Barely a whisper yet weighed heavy with magic weaved into it. A shiver went down his spine as it rolled over him, ghost sensations back once more.

Geralt shifted his weight, and peered around the rock, balancing himself with one hand in the sand and water.

He was perched on the same rocks as before, though this time he wasn’t facing the village. Really he wasn’t perched at all. Slouched over the rocks horizontal to the beach, chin propped up on one palm while his free fingers were lazily trailing through the water. Despite the power in his voice he seemed bored, eyes barely focused, tail occasionally flicking water up to spray over him. 

Like that, his voice wouldn’t project far. It barely reached Geralt’s ears, though the witcher had no doubt the magic was already seeping into the villagers. He shifted closer, watching the creature as he sang a bored but beautiful melody, and tried to make out any of it that he could.

No words he recognized reached him, but he could tell it was a different song than the ones from before. He wondered if there was a purpose to each song or if the creature was just…singing.

Did it know what it was doing? Was it weaving a spell over the villagers on purpose? He cocked his head, shifting his hand to the rock when the sand beneath him started to shift with the coming tide, wondering what purpose this creature had here - or if there was no purpose at all. If it had just come ashore and sang, and had no knowledge of what it did to humans.

Trying to figure it out without confronting the beast was get him nowhere. Geralt breathed in deeply, slowly, testing his muscles to make sure none had gone stiff while he’d waited. And then he focused on the half-fish, half-man, deciding then that he would face it first without a drawn sword.

He stood up slowly. The creature was watching the way his fingers moved through the water, eyes half focused, a soft melody on his lips. Water dripped from his hair down his cheeks, falling back into the sea below, the hair on his chest slowly drying in the breeze and curling further. 

Geralt was reminded of paintings he'd seen of fae folk. Almost human, beautiful, but off and eerie. Claws at the ends of his fingers. Webbing between them. Sharp teeth. Flecks of color on his skin that must have been scales. Slitted pupils that didn't change as the light dimmed - meant for the depths, where light rarely made its home. 

Blue eyes, as deep as those depths, pinned him in place when the creature saw him.

The fingers trailing through the water stilled. The melody died on his lips, though the magic lingered as if suspended, waiting. His body shifted on the rock, head cocking ever so slightly, and those eyes studied Geralt just as Geralt had studied him.

Intelligent. Sharp. Calculating. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and Geralt’s hand twitched when he saw the muscles in his back flex. Claws scraping against the rocks beneath him - and Geralt knew the creature was making a decision, deciding he was a threat.

Not the decision Geralt wanted it to make, not when he was certain it was intelligent. He had no idea if the creature could be reasoned with, if it even spoke the common tongue, but he wouldn’t fight it without trying. 

As the creature tensed up, his upper lip twitching and showing teeth, Geralt called out to it over the sound of the sea.

“Why do you sing here?”

He paused, lips parted, clawed hand supporting him up off of his rock perch. And then he cocked his head, wet hair sticking to his forehead, sharp eyes scrutinizing Geralt once more but now accompanied by a wrinkle of his nose.

Water rushed over Geralt’s boots, up his shins. The sand shifted beneath him as the tide came further inland. He steadied himself on his own rock, not looking away from the creature as he looked at him in turn.

Then, the creature hunkered down. Something lit up his eyes, and a grin flashed across his lips right before he rolled off into the water below. 

Geralt cursed, immediately rushing to the safety of land, eyes scanning the surface of the water. Near the rock the creature had been laying on, a fin flashed, spraying water into the air and heading away from the village.

Without a second thought, Geralt ran in that direction, determined to keep up with him.

Past the sand, a rock path ran perpendicular to the sea, up the slope of a hill. Geralt kept his eyes on the water, listening around him to make sure nothing else was up ahead. Scales glistened in the moonlight whenever the creature would breach the surface, greens and blues leading Geralt away, away, until the sounds of the creature’s magic were behind them.

The sounds of the villagers as well. Far behind him, until it was naught but the sea and the nearby forest and farms that Geralt could hear.

Despite the power behind that tail, he didn’t swim fast. Geralt narrowed his eyes as he easily kept up with the creature. As it stuck to the coastline, easily visible from land and headed in a clear direction.

Up ahead, Geralt spotted a small spot of land that jutted out into the sea. He could just make out the mouth of a cave, half submerged in water, though it looked like there might be a path in by foot. Slowing his pace, he followed the path’s decline towards the grass up ahead, and only glanced at the sea and the creature in it.

He knew where he was headed. Geralt only wondered then why he’d been led there.

As he made his way towards the cave entrance, Geralt watched the creature’s tail flick up out of the water. Droplets glistened in the moonlight as the creature disappeared into the cave, swimming into it with ease. It was likely, Geralt thought, that the creature had made this cave a nest of sorts, if he made his way there with such ease and confidence. 

The tide was gentle there, lapping at grass and rocks as Geralt found himself at the shoreline once more. He found his footing was not compromised, though the path looked untouched. Very few, if any, men had been there before him - at least not in a long while.

Few tracks of any creatures, really. He touched the faded markings from what was likely bear claws, dug into a tree. The bleached blonde hair told him it was from months past. Geralt pulled the hairs free and inhaled their scent, and hummed to himself before letting them go.

They were alone. No scent of rotting flesh, nor any other sign of water fairing monsters he was more familiar with than the new one. He ducked past some hanging vines into the entrance of the cave, noting a carved path out of the stone that would keep him relatively safe out of the water.

Assuming the creature had no other magic in its arsenal. He stepped lightly, not wanting to make a sound, though he knew the creature knew he’d followed.

Running along the footpath, the water thinned out. Geralt paused long enough to squat down, watching it run over the small rocks. Small scales were scattered about, rubbed off against some of the rougher, sharper rocks. He turned his head, seeing where the water deepened again up ahead and disappeared underground. 

His path continued. Standing back up, he went on, passing sewant mushrooms and moss that grew along the ground.

Eventually, the water weaved its way through the cave once more, and just as Geralt reached it the singing began. The creature’s voice echoing around him, magic seeping into his voice and making Geralt shiver. It was impossible to tell how far away he was, to pinpoint where his voice was coming from, but the path did not branch and Geralt pressed onward. 

It narrowed until Geralt had to squeeze through sideways to keep from falling into the water. Carved up into the hill, so sharply at one point he had to climb his way up, thankful for the stalagmites he could grip onto. Slowly went down to sea level once more, widening into a large opening, the melody echoing around him as he finally reached the water’s end.

The water was still, so far away from the tide’s pull. It had gently pooled in a nest of moss and driftwood, which had been arranged just so in a large circle just off center of the cavern. Large enough for the creature lounging in it to have plenty of room to wriggle about if he wished, though he was still then, propped up against the side of his nest with his chin in his palms as he watched Geralt come closer.

His singing had stopped, but Geralt still felt his melody in the air, brushing against his skin. Powerful magic if it could cling to a witcher, though whatever effect the creature wanted it to have was wasted on one.

As he approached, he wondered how much of a reach the creature had. His tail could lash out, though it would be a much more dangerous weapon in water - and with Geralt being out of the nest, it would be hard for the creature to hit him with it anyway. The claws were his primary concern, sharp and deadly where they sat on the creature’s cheeks, but the thought of unknown magic was shortly behind them.

The creature shifted closer just a touch as Geralt’s steps paused not too far from his nest. Eyes on him, bright and focused, lips parted on a soft breath. He leaned forward as if waiting, anticipating Geralt’s next move, though Geralt…sensed no hostility from him.

His eyes weren’t narrowed. Teeth were not showing. Leaning on his elbows like that, he couldn’t strike fast, and his muscles weren’t tensed like he expected Geralt to strike either. Geralt inhaled slowly through his nose: salt, slowly rotting wood, earth, damp, fungi, fish, and the scent of the creature.

No sweat. Heartbeat faster than a human’s but no telling if it was a normal rhythm for the creature or not. Geralt cocked his head, wondering what the creature was thinking or feeling, and blinked when the creature’s head cocked in the same direction.

“You don’t smell human.” 

Geralt squatted down, letting his hands hang loose between his thighs. The touch of magic - he could taste it on his tongue, and stared at the creature’s lips. A long tongue flicked out to wet them.

“I’m not human.” 

“Well, neither am I.” The creature’s tail moved, lifting and resettling into place. His scales caught in light that filtered through from an opening in the cave wall. 

“You’re not speaking the common tongue.” His lips hadn’t matched the words that reached Geralt’s ears.

The creature gave him a sly grin , the barest bit of teeth showing, though it didn’t feel like a threat. “No. But most can understand me anyway.”

Strange magic, but useful. Would allow the creature to weave whatever song he wanted - Geralt frowned, and leaned closer. He hadn’t understood a word of his songs. 

“Why were you singing?”

He blinked, the grin fading just a touch, but then it was back and the creature wriggled forward to get a little closer. “Because it’s fun, and I’m quite good at it, aren’t I? I’ve been told my voice is enchanting.” He looked up at Geralt through long, wet eyelashes, and if it weren’t for the grin still on his lips he would have sounded shy when he asked, “Did you like it? I wrote the last one myself.”

“Enchanting,” Geralt murmured, shifting his eyes away from the creature as his own heart rate picked up. “You weave magic into your songs. Literally. Why rile up the village in such a way?”

“The village?” When Geralt looked back, the creature’s nose was wrinkled again, his lips pinched together. “What village? Oh, I suppose there are a lot of boats at the dock, but I didn’t see a village.”

“It’s behind the treeline, you can’t see it from the beach.”

The creature shrugged. “Didn’t know. Are you from there?” When Geralt shook his head, the creature’s grin returned, and his voice came out like a purr. “Tell me about yourself, Mr. Not From the Village and Not Human. What are you? Did you travel far and wide just to stumble across this beach, and just happen to find me?”

“You’ve not met a witcher?” Geralt had to look away again. It would be surprising if the creature hadn’t come across one if he made a habit of singing at the coastline. Surely one would have stumbled across him before. And if he was always so non-threatening, it wouldn’t shock Geralt to learn one hadn’t attacked him.

Even if he’d been ready to attack him, and even if witchers like Lambert existed whose motto was coin first, talk later.

The creature’s hair was drying. When he cocked his head, some spilled away, brushing against his hand. It exposed more of his ear - pointed, dotted with scales. Shaped like a wing with spines. Geralt wondered what it would feel like under his fingers, and shook the thought away quickly.

“Never heard of a witcher. Is that what you are?” Geralt nodded, and the creature purred again. “Does my dear witcher have a name? Or is he mysterious enough to go through life as just the witcher?”

“Geralt.” He felt his cheeks heating up and coughed, scowling. “What’s yours? Or should I just keep thinking of you as the creature?”

“Creature?” The creature shook himself, mouth agape as he stumbled through half starts to words. “I am not a creature, I am- you- creatures are hideous. They’re monsters- do I look like a monster to you?”

Geralt thought it wise to not point out that, yes, he did look like a monster. Instead he shrugged, and the creature narrowed his eyes to slits.

“Jaskier. A name befitting a beautiful creature such as myself.” His tail lifted again, water trickling down his scales and dripping off of his tail onto his back. It all caught in the light, and truly, Geralt had to admit, he was beautiful. “Now tell me, Geralt, do all witchers have such gorgeous features?”

How did they start talking about this? About him? Geralt’s face was burning, and he couldn’t look at the cre- Jaskier. He couldn’t look at Jaskier, and wasn’t sure how to get the conversation back on track.

The village. The spell Jaskier was…apparently unintentionally putting them under. That’s what he was there for, not getting to know him.

But he was curious, at the very least. Geralt dared to glance back at Jaskier, his stomach doing things when those long lashes were fluttered at him again. If Jaskier hadn’t come across any witchers, perhaps most of his species hadn’t - that might be why Geralt’s memory was lacking when it came to his species, whatever it might be. Perhaps there just wasn’t any information on them to begin with.

“What are you?”

“I don’t know what you call me.” Jaskier pursed his lips. His eyes never left Geralt, and it made the witcher shiver. “Not sure if it will translate…siren? Does that sound like anything to you?”

“Good enough. Never heard of your kind.”

“We’re even then.” 

His smile was dangerous. Geralt shouldn’t be so close, shouldn’t have let Jaskier get him distracted. But he didn’t move away, even as he tried yet again to get the conversation back on track. “Your songs carry magic. They bespelled the nearby village. A resident hired me to find you.”

“So you did stumble upon the beach to find me.”

“To find out why you were singing, and to ask you to stop,” Geralt corrected, though that wasn’t exactly what he’d been paid for. Asking wasn’t usually his line of business.

Jaskier deflated, pouting, and finally he wasn’t looking at Geralt. Instead he was looking at the ground between them. “Here I thought you found my songs enchanting.”

“Because you put a spell on the village.” 

“I didn’t even know there was a village there.”

He didn’t sound sorry. Just pouty. Geralt ran a hand over his face, frustrated, though his stomach hadn’t stopped doing infuriating little flutters ever since Jaskier first started to purr at him. “It disrupts their lives. Every night, the whole villages goes out and-” Geralt tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, unable to say fucks to this ‘beautiful creature’ “-entertain themselves. In a very disruptive manner. Without the ability to control themselves.”

“Entertainment doesn’t sound bad.” Another wave of his tail through the air, scales glittering in the moonlight. 

“Not good entertainment,” Geralt grumbled, scowling back at Jaskier.

“Not my fault they’re not good at parties.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled, and he could have sworn Jaskier shivered, “they’re fucking in the streets.”

“Oh that sounds like a brilliant party.”

This was turning out to easily be one of Geralt’s most difficult contracts. With yet another silent prayer to the gods, Geralt took a deep breath and tried to ignore the wriggling creature for just a few seconds.

He was doing it on purpose. Getting under Geralt’s skin, though it didn’t seem like he was doing it to bother him. Certainly not in a ‘make him angry’ sort of way. Geralt leaned forward again, and watched how Jaskier mirrored his movement. How he looked like he was anticipating something.

“What do you want?” His tone had softened, his frustration forced to the side. “You’re not purposely bespelling the village. Besides singing, why are you here?”

“No reason. I was just bored.” Jaskier shrugged again, and he seemed honest. Even if he wasn’t being honest, Geralt didn’t know enough about him or his species to guess a motive to lie. “This seemed like as good a place as any other.”

“You made a nest,” Geralt noted, gesturing with a flick of his wrist. 

“Might as well make a home away from home.” With a sigh, Jaskier laid his arms on the edge of the nest, resting his head on them as he fluttered his eyes up at Geralt. “It is rather lonely though. All this nest and no one to share it with.”

Was that why his songs caused the villagers to seek each other out carnally? Because the siren himself was lonely? It was as good an explanation as any other Geralt had, and truly he still wasn’t certain he could trust the creature, no matter that he had a pretty face and seemed earnest.

Eyes focused on a piece of driftwood just next to Jaskier, Geralt asked, “Where are the rest of your species? Could you not seek them out?”

“You’re thick, aren’t you?” Geralt’s eyes shot back to Jaskier, but before he could respond the siren huffed loudly and grumbled at him. “Sure, I could, but it’s the sea. Do you know how big it is? I might run into a few but then it might be one I’ve fought before, or one that already has a mate, or just one I have no interest in. Meanwhile, my nest is cold, I’m lonely, and oh dear witcher whatever shall I do to get through this long, cold night all on my lonesome?”

Another deep breath, Geralt trying his best to remind himself why he was there. Contract. Villagers being disturbed and disrupted, bespelled. He had a job to do and needed to make sure he’d be able to collect afterward. No matter how difficult the siren was, and no matter how alluring he was, that was Geralt’s first and foremost responsibility.

His head tilted back again, Geralt stared at a stalactite up above, clenching his jaw and relaxing it once more to make sure he had a tight grip on his words. “I need you to promise me you won’t sing at the shore anymore.”

“But-”

“It’s bespelling the villagers,” Geralt pushed on, letting his head drop forward again and fixing Jaskier with his gaze. “It’s disrupting their lives. It could do actual harm. Promise me you won’t sing at the shore anymore, or find a way to not use magic with your songs. Please.”

Jaskier deflated, looking small despite the fact that he was quite literally larger than Geralt by a few feet. “Okay. Can I sing here? I don’t want to leave.”

Seemed far enough away from the village and any other settlements that it likely wouldn’t do any harm. Geralt nodded, and added, “I’ll make sure the villagers know to avoid this area. Tell them it’s haunted. Will make people avoid the area.”

“Awfully sweet of you.” With a smile, Jaskier brightened up again just a little. Geralt’s shoulders relaxed at that. 

“That won’t help you stay warm, though.” Geralt leaned back on one of his hands, slipping his legs forward and sitting at the edge of Jaskier’s nest. The siren turned to look up at him, that sly smile coming back - and Geralt wasn’t sure how good Jaskier’s hearing was, but he’d be willing to bet Jaskier could hear his heartbeat picking up.

“What do you want, Jaskier?” Despite his question, Geralt was nervous. 

Scales glistening in the moonlight, Jaskier shifted closer, letting one clawed, deadly hand trail down Geralt’s leg. “Your company. I’ve never met a witcher, but compared to the humans I’ve met…” Jaskier showed teeth, and Geralt shivered. “You’re quite enchanting yourself.”

“Have you been with humans?” Geralt didn’t know what to do with his hands, and wasn’t sure when he was last that nervous.

“A few times,” Jaskier shrugged. “You look like one, mostly. Will it be the same?”

“I was one, once. We are mostly the same.” 

“Mysterious,” Jaskier purred, and reached out to Geralt, running his fingers over the scruff on Geralt’s cheek. 

When he pulled Geralt down, he went easily and willingly, flicking his tongue out to taste the salt on Jaskier’s lips.

Geralt did not make a habit of laying with non-humans, though he’d made a few exceptions over the years. A witch or two, another witcher once when he’d gotten rather drunk. One rather alluring succubus who’d saved his life, and who’d spent an entire week with him in an abandoned hut in Skellige. But even the succubus had been more human than Jaskier, with her warm blood and her almost human scent.

Jaskier was cold, still damp. When Geralt inhaled, he smelled the sea more than anything else, as if he was kissing the embodiment of it. He moaned softly, his gloved fingers running through Jaskier’s hair, tilting his head back to deepen the kiss - and moaned again when Jaskier’s claws scraped his scalp.

How easily Jaskier could end this if he wanted. With his teeth, his claws, a powerful sweep of his tail. Geralt imagined his lithe form belied a strength, though whether it could rival his was to be determined, but any creature of the sea had to be powerful. Yet Jaskier rolled easily when Geralt moved, on his back as Geralt straddled his body, arching under him and not letting their lips part even for breath.

Large lung capacity, Geralt mused even as he lost himself in the taste of the creature beneath him. Jaskier’s tongue flicked into his mouth, long and curious, and just the thought of what it could do made Geralt groan. 

He wasn’t dressed for this. When he pulled back, Jaskier pouted, gripping onto him and trying to tug him back down. Geralt gently swatted his hands away with a fake scowl and let Jaskier cross his arms with a huff and a puffed out cheek.

Just for that, Geralt decided to take his time removing his swords and armor. Maybe he could make the sweet creature squirm for him. 

His swords went first, unstrapped both at once and placed outside of the nest. When he leaned forward to set them down, he sat up, and Jaskier uncrossed his arms just to purr and run naughty hands over Geralt’s thighs. He gave them an appreciative squeeze, and Geralt exhaled sharply through his nose, telling himself to have patience. 

Armor next. Ties and buckles undone one by one, carefully, not willing to damage any of it just to have sex. He didn’t make a show of it but he felt Jaskier’s eyes on him the whole time, and purposely avoided them. As if Jaskier wasn’t there, as if he was merely stripping himself of his armor in his room after a long night.

“Why is it that you wear so much?” Jaskier managed to make it sound like a complaint, but curiosity colored his tone. He did give Geralt’s pants a tug though they went nowhere. 

Undoing the fastenings on his left gauntlet, Geralt gave a soft hum. “Witchers fight monsters. Our skin is fragile compared to the metal and leather we can craft with.”

“A warrior.” Jaskier ran his hand up Geralt’s thigh and shifted beneath him. The tip of his tail flicked some water into the air, spraying it onto the other end of the nest. “How fearsome, brave, heroic. Geralt the witcher saving the world from big, scary monsters.” 

“You make it sound ridiculous,” he snorted, tugging off his glove and tossing it towards his swords.

“Bet you make it look glorious. Beautiful.”

Geralt dropped the second glove right onto Jaskier’s face just to get him to stop. 

Not bothering with taking his time anymore, Geralt had the rest of his armor off and his shirt following shortly. He didn’t care if they got wet, just made sure that they’d be easy to find and kept them all in one place. As soon as his shirt was tossed away, Jaskier’s hands were on him, fingers running delicately over the pink and white scars that ran over his stomach, his chest, his arms. 

Jaskier’s eyes drank up every inch of him greedily, and though Geralt was still far too dressed for this he was tugged down into another kiss. 

He was still warm from where they’d been kissing before. The thought made Geralt growl, and he bit Jaskier’s lower lip, tugging it with his teeth and growling more as Jaskier’s claws found his back. Running down it just enough for him to feel them, a light burn in their wake. 

Every part of Geralt wanted to make Jaskier burn. Set him on fire, leave him hot in the wake of his hands and mouth and tongue. No magic Jaskier had could touch Geralt beyond a shiver - it couldn’t bend his will, it couldn’t take his thought or free will, but Geralt was under his spell all the same. 

From every flutter of his long lashes, to the purr on his lips, Jaskier had captured him. 

Though Geralt had no idea how to have sex with a siren.

He pulled back again, hands immediately finding his belt, and figured it was better sooner rather than later to find out what the fuck they were doing. 

“You’re more experienced here than me.” His belt was tossed towards the pile, the metal buckle clinking against his armor.

Jaskier wriggled beneath him, and Geralt had to steady himself with a hand on his chest. The bastard only grinned at his stumble.

“How do you prefer it, my dear witcher? I know some of your kind don’t like the thought of me fucking them.”

“I’m not human,” Geralt corrected. “And I have no oil.”

“Oil?” Jaskier cocked his head, and helped support Geralt as he shucked off his pants.

“Nothing to slick the way.”

A beat, and Jaskier still looked just as confused.

“Have you only been with women?”

“No, but the men didn’t want me to fuck them.” Jaskier frowned, and a few cute wrinkles showed on his forehead from how deep it was. “Why would you need something to slick the way?”

Geralt didn’t have time for a full anatomy lesson, but he desperately wished he had oil. If he’d brought his pack with him, he would’ve ridden Jaskier until the sunrise had colored the cove bright orange with its rays.

“Next time,” he said without thinking, and finally ripped the last of his clothes off. He didn’t give time for Jaskier to respond, kissing him and letting one of his own hands wander.

Without his gloves, Jaskier’s skin was even colder. Despite that, he felt so human. His chest rising with his breaths, his heartbeat right under the skin, curls of hair under Geralt’s calloused fingertips. The siren’s lips were soft under his own, stubble on his cheeks and chin as Geralt kissed down his face, the soft gasp that followed making Geralt’s blood run hotter.

Hotter still it ran at every reminder that Jaskier was not human. The scent and taste of salt, the rough edges of scales once Geralt’s wandering hand reached his hips. A melodic tone to his gasps and sighs that thickened the air around them. How much larger Jaskier was despite Geralt not being a small man, Jaskier having to steady him when he got to wriggly and almost pitched the man off of his hips.

Were they technically hips? Geralt paused his kissing to look down at where his hand was, ignoring Jaskier’s whine at the loss of contact. It was where his torso met his tail, soft flesh meeting scales, but there were no hip bones - not hips, then, though he wasn’t sure what else to call it.

“Geralt.”

A hand in his hair, tugging lightly, drew his attention. The siren was pouting up at him, his tail shifting restlessly against the driftwood of his nest. Instead of leaning back down to kiss him, Geralt cocked an eyebrow, holding back a grin as the siren started to shift and wriggle around more and more.

“Geralt.”

“Did you want something?”

Oh, and that caused an even more adorable reaction. Jaskier’s pout increasing, another whine tearing out of him, his fingers winding themselves in Geralt’s hair and tugging harder - though not hard enough to force Geralt to move any closer. He was an adorably needy thing.

“You’re supposed to be kissing me.” Jaskier trailed his hand away from Geralt’s hair, a clawed finger running over his lips, and Geralt almost forgot how to breathe at the gentle touch. But just as soon as it was there it was trailing lower, past his chest, his abs, until his hand was running down the inner part of his thigh. “Or fucking me. Ravishing me. Making me beg for more, leaving me so sated and full of lust for you that no one else could ever compare, even as-”

“Do you always talk this much?”

Jaskier gasped and started to stammer at him again, but Geralt hid his embarrassment and cut him off by bending down and trailing light kisses over the gills on his throat. The sound he made sent a shiver down Geralt’s spine, and just to see if he could get him to make it again he flicked his tongue out and ran just the tip over the delicate skin.

Sliding his hips down, Geralt let out a soft moan of his own. His cock, already half hard, slid across Jaskier’s stomach. Carefully, ever so carefully, he ran his teeth over Jaskier’s gills, and the siren hissed and bucked up at the contact. It made Geralt moan louder, his cock caught between them, sliding deliciously against Jaskier’s skin.

“Those are very sensitive,” Jaskier warned, breathless, and Geralt shivered at the tone.

“I won’t hurt you.” Soft, open mouthed kisses over the gills, his hand running up to hold Jaskier’s neck as he kissed back up to his cheek. When he caught Jaskier’s gaze, his blue eyes had grown darker, and Geralt had the distinct feeling he was staring into the eyes of a predator.

“Can’t fuck you if you don’t show me how.”

“You have such a way with words,” Jaskier cooed, claws running down Geralt’s back just hard enough to make him shiver. “How could anyone resist you?”

Geralt snorted, but let Jaskier move him back, sliding down his tail. Straddling scales that were cold against his thighs, the muscles clenching to keep him steady as Jaskier sat up as best he could, shifting underneath him. The front of the siren’s body was smooth, no outward genitalia or holes that caught his eye, and yet Jaskier made no move to roll over.

When Jaskier was settled, he stretched out his hand, though it took Geralt a second to realize he wanted one of his. He let Jaskier have it, amused as Jaskier first played with his fingers. Running his thumb over Geralt’s callouses, scratching at them to see how tough they were, and then running the tips of his fingers between Geralt’s where his own had thin webbing.

“They’re rougher than the others.” It didn’t sound like a complaint.

Geralt shrugged, resting a hand on Jaskier’s scales to support himself. “From my swords.”

“A warrior’s hands,” Jaskier purred, and Geralt was thankful when he didn’t go on like before. Instead, he placed Geralt’s hand at the start of his tail, running it down until the tips of his fingers found a dip in his scales.

Not a dip, a slit. Geralt cocked his head, pressing one finger against it, finding it slick. As he pressed down, Jaskier let out a harsh breath, his grip moving to Geralt’s wrist and tightening as if to never let him go.

“This where I fuck you then?” Voice rough, eyes focused on that slick slit, Geralt slipped his finger in and heard Jaskier choke on his own words. But then Jaskier was shaking his head, pushing Geralt’s hand down further, dragging his finger down through his slit.

“Here.”

Geralt pressed his finger in deeper, to the first knuckle, his pupils blown wide at the wet heat. When he started to work his finger even more, Jaskier’s tail wacked against the nest, his lips parted - though, Geralt noted, his skin did not flush. 

It took but a short minute for Geralt to decide he’d rather have his mouth on him. Not knowing what the witcher was up to, Jaskier reached for him the instant his finger withdrew, tail whipping to the side as Geralt slid down it. But then Geralt was kissing the top of his slit, and Jaskier was letting out a soft “oh” and clawing at the bottom of the nest to try to keep still.

He was glad for the effort. Every jostle that had him shifting forward chafed his bare skin, Jaskier’s scales rough. But the discomfort was worth it when he dipped his tongue in to taste the creature beneath him, as he felt Jaskier’s muscles tightening under his hands. 

There was nothing quite like eating a partner out. Feeling Jaskier slick up as he tugged him open with one hand, delving his tongue in as far as he could, eyes closed with a pleased rumble in his chest as he just listened and felt Jaskier’s reactions to him. Nose soon buried in him as well, slick on his lips and chin, fingers slipping down to work into the spot Jaskier had told him to fuck.

Something nudged against his tongue. It was hot and just as slick as the rest of his slit. Geralt pulled back just a touch, opening his eyes to find the tapered tip of what must have been Jaskier’s cock peeking out at him.

“Don’t stop.” 

Jaskier was breathless. His eyes heavy and half-lidded, sharp teeth shining in the low light as he panted. The plea was nothing more than a whisper, his tail quivering as his cock slid out just a touch more.

Catching his gaze, Geralt leaned back down and licked a wide, slow stripe over the head of his cock. He saw the hitch of his breath, saw as he clenched his abdomen, and wished for the first time in his life he had any talent for the arts.

The siren deserved to be immortalized in that moment. Hair damp and sticking to his forehead, scales shimmering in the moonlight, claws scraping the driftwood and making it splinter. He was anything but human despite his pretty face, and it made him all the more beautiful.

Geralt coaxed his cock out further with his tongue until he could wrap his lips around its tip. A whimper escaped Jaskier as he did, and as Geralt swirled his tongue around its head he slicked up two fingers and worked them as deep into Jaskier’s hole as he could. 

He desperately wished they had the patience for him to fully explore every crevice Jaskier had, every sensitive bundle of nerves he could possibly get his fingers on. But the siren was practically writhing beneath him as it was, his cock fully out and demanding Geralt’s attention. It was delicious on his tongue, thin and long and slick enough he’d be tempted to try to ride Jaskier if he hadn’t had to hike back to the village after.

Really, he could have used Jaskier’s slick as oil. The thought made his cock jerk, a bead of precum dribbling down his shaft, but he tossed the thought aside with the wistful thought of next time.

There was no guarantee of a next time, but he desperately wished there would be. He took the rest of Jaskier’s cock into his mouth, flinching when Jaskier’s hand shot out and gripped his hair too hard, nails scraping against his scalp a little too roughly. It was followed with a quick apology, clawed fingers running through his hair and giving a gentler tug that made Geralt moan around his cock.

His hand was practically dripping with slick as he worked a third finger into him. Tongue running against the underside of Jaskier’s cock as he bobbed his head, moving back to suck lightly on the tip and swirl his tongue around it before pressing it against the slit, tasting the precum that had started to drool steadily out of him. As he slid back down on his cock, he hummed around him, hearing Jaskier babble something out that he couldn’t understand.

Slipping his fingers out, Geralt moved back up his tail - and hissed as Jaskier’s scales scraped his thighs up. The siren’s hands were on him, smoothing over his legs in apology as Geralt moved more carefully into what he hoped was the best position to fuck him in.

Should’ve kept his pants on, though they would have been worn a bit thin after. Still, with that thought he leaned over and grabbed at his shirt, snatching it up and placing it between his thighs and those torturous (if beautiful) scales.

Taking his own cock in hand, Geralt couldn’t help but pump it a few times, gazing down at the siren laid out before him. His skin had still not flushed but he was a sight anyway, with his cock hanging out and slick glistening against his scales. It was obscene, it was beautiful, and Geralt couldn’t wait any longer to get his dick in him.

“Please,” Jaskier gasped, a word Geralt recognized finally slipping from his lips. A surge of magic tingled against his skin, and it occurred to him that Jaskier had to make a conscious effort to make sure others could understand him. It certainly explained why his melodic notes were unintelligible as Geralt rubbed the head of his cock against his slit, slicking himself up and teasing the siren that was squirming for him.

“Desperation looks good on you.”

He looked like he was going to argue, or was trying to argue, even as he reached out and clung to Geralt too tightly. But his words weren’t focused, made no sense to Geralt’s ears, and his eyes rolled back as Geralt pressed just a little harder into him.

“Can’t- I can’t do this myself.” Eventually, Jaskier managed the words, his hands shaking where they gripped Geralt’s hips. “Claws, I can’t- it’s been so long, please, I want this, I want-”

When Geralt finally slid into him, Jaskier’s head dropped back, his words cut off by a long, moaned note. He squeezed around Geralt beautifully, wet and hot and greedy. In one smooth motion, Geralt was buried in him, his nostrils flaring and eyes shut tight as he tried to get used to being inside of him.

He shook with the effort to not immediately thrust into him. To fuck him fast and hard, too fast, end it all too quickly. Already his knot was swelling with interest and he bit his lip, focusing on his breathing and his own heartbeat to calm himself down.

Once he felt like he wouldn’t come too soon, he ground his hips against the beautiful creature trapped between his thighs. Jaskier left out a soft groan, claws gently scraping against Geralt’s skin, his long cock glistening and tempting Geralt to touch it. But he resisted the temptation, gripping Jaskier where his hips would have been, grinding into him with his own jaw slack and his breaths puffing out short and quick.

Then, slowly, he pulled out until just the tip of his cock was pressed into his slit. Jaskier whined as Geralt rubbed himself over his hole, over part of his cock, the witcher shivering at the easy, slick glide. His cock caught on Jaskier’s hole and Geralt hissed as Jaskier’s claws bit into his thighs, drawing blood, but the siren was too desperate to apologize.

But the bite of his claws was just another reminder of the creature he had beneath him. Geralt bared his teeth and snapped his hips forward, burying himself into the siren without warning, and reveled in how the creature writhed under him.

He had no patience for taking his time after that. Not with Jaskier practically sucking him in, not with the obscene wet noises that echoed in the cave as he snapped his hips with another sharp thrust. Jaskier clenched around him, begging with his body while his words failed him, his magic making Geralt’s medallion hum against his chest but his words were a nonsense song that grew in pitch and volume.

Geralt set a brutal pace, chasing his own pleasure. Blood running hot, sweat beading at his neck, his hair sticking to his face. He grunted and moaned, low and deep, as Jaskier clenched hard around him. The siren’s song turned into a practical wail, claws desperate to find purchase on Geralt’s slick skin and they left angry marks in their wake. 

Knot swelling with every thrust, Geralt reached between them, grasping Jaskier’s cock with a firm grip and making the siren sing his name. It took just a few strokes to make his back arch, his song cut off as he came hard, coating both their chests and Geralt’s hand in his watery seed.

A growl tore out of Geralt’s throat at the sight. The creature slack jawed yet held taut like a string that only he could cut. His hair tousled, chest hair sticky with cum, his cock still drooling where it was caught in Geralt’s fist. Geralt wanted to bite him, wanted to kiss him breathless, wanted to lick him clean and knot him and fuck him until he couldn’t swim straight.

With Jaskier squeezing him so tightly, Geralt didn’t last much longer. His thrusts stuttering, his knot catching on Jaskier’s hole, fingers digging into Jaskier’s skin hard enough to leave bruises. He threw his head back with a quiet moan, eyes shut tight, grinding into the pretty sea creature beneath him as he filled him with his come.

Fuck. Geralt struggled to breathe, his whole body tense, legs shaking. Pleasure raked through him like a beast, leaving his vision blurry and his ears ringing with his own heartbeat. On some level he recognized hands were soothing over him - his thighs, his stomach, his chest - but not much else registered to him. 

It was a fight to come back to himself. Force his eyes to stay open, his head to lull back so he could see his siren. Jaskier, who was lazing back with a far too pleased with himself look on his face, and a calming tune gracing his lips as he petted his witcher.

“You were beautiful,” the creature cooed at him, and all Geralt managed was a grunt back at him. He let Jaskier pull him down into his arms, ear pressed to the siren’s chest as he waited for his knot to let him go.

Come morning, with a soft breeze blowing through his hair and the sun rising over the sea, Geralt tried to put thoughts of the siren out of his mind. He made his way back up the rocky path towards the beach, catching brilliant colored fins flicking out of the water out of his periphery - but he didn’t think about Jaskier, or the soft words (“Come back and see me”) that were whispered against his hair. 

The soft, languid kisses they shared were not on his mind as he skirted around the town’s streets once more. He went to the inn and let its keeper know the beast was gone, ignoring her sharp eye and refusing the coin she tried to give as payment.

In the end, he accepted bread and cheese instead, and her final jar of preserves were shoved into his hands without any room for him to protest.

Roach was mad at him, snorting and jerking her head away with her nostrils flared when he tried to fetch her from the stable. She nipped at his hands and snorted again - and Geralt noticed her eyes were wide with fear. 

“It’s alright, it’s just me.” He ran a steady hand over her neck, though it was likely the siren’s scent on him that set her off. Still, she calmed enough eventually for him to saddle her, and soon they were off and away from the village.

Their path ran south, away from the coast, but he didn’t bother with a glance back over his shoulder - why would he when he’d already promised to be back by the month’s end.

-

A brief explanation of things not explicitly stated in the fic:

The innkeeper was ace, which is why Jaskier's songs had no effect on her.

Sirens lure horses to the sea and turn them into kelpies (my own canon for this fic). Thankfully, instead of being tempted by his songs, Roach was instead deathly afraid of him.

-

@fontegagrilledcheese @damnbert @mothmanismyuncle @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @jaskierswolf @blooodymoon  @kan0chan @silvermintnightprincess @flowercrown-bard @sharinalein @concussed-dragon @hayleynzlive @feral-jaskier @sweetiepieplum @stonedstargazer666 @deafeningnightcollection-things @luteandsword @kmuir1 @little-boats-on-a-lake @dani-dandelino @rurousha @renewlucifer @deadwolfdonoteat

[caliawen]

𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐣𝐨𝐲

Pairing = Finarfin x reader

Genre = mature

General ratings = 18+ (explicit sexual content), fluff, smut

Content warnings = mentions of pregnancy & of birth, mentions of vomiting, oral sex (f!receiving), male masturbation

Reader’s gender = afab!reader, but no ‘explicit’ gender (the only pronoun used to describe reader is ‘you’)

Word count = 1.7k

Notes = yayyy! This is my first ever fanfic, so please be indulgent and leave constructive criticism! Also, melmë means ‘love’

The sun rays caress your skin gently, waking you up from your slumber. You crack open an eye, before smiling. You are cocooned in your bedsheets and you can feel your husband nuzzling his face in your back. You turn around and smile as you see Finarfin grin in his sleep, his sunny mane flowing like rivers of gold on his pillow.

It’s then that you lose your smile as you’re hit by a wave of nausea. You quickly get up and make a run for the bathroom, falling to your knees in front of the toilet.

“For Eru’s sake!” you murmur, a little angry that your morning was ruined by this. You start to vomit, sweating as your body works hard. You distantly hear your husband call out your name worriedly.

“Melmë, are you alright?” He asks, holding your hair back and stroking your back comfortingly.

You smile a little at your husband’s worry and because you’re finished vomiting. You look up at him after you wiped your mouth.

“I’m fine now, my love. It was just morning sickness!” You tell him, trying to ease his worry.

His shoulders relax and he smiles back at you, helping you get up and get to the sink so you could wash out the taste of bile from your mouth.

~~~

You were seated in your bed, head on Finarfin’s shoulder as he hand-fed you, despite your protests.

“My dear, I can feed myself just as well as you!”

“I know, honey, I know. I just want to do it. You deserve to be pampered!” He says, smiling brightly.

You roll your eyes while smiling. Finarfin had gotten even more dotting when your pregnancy started, almost letting you do nothing so that he could do everything. You had to fight him tooth and nail to be able to do certain things on your own, as he seemed dead set on spoiling you. It seemed to get even worse as time passed and as your belly bump grew.

“You know, my love, we could go take a walk in the gardens today. Have a picnic, just you and me..?”

You smiled at your husband, love overflowing your heart as you saw him bite his lip, as if you could refuse such a wonderful date idea. That was one of the things you adored about Finarfin. He never took you for granted and still made efforts to please you, long into your marriage.

“I’d love that, sweetheart!”

~~~

You were seated on a soft and smooth nap on the still damp grass, leaning against a tree. Your legs were stretched out in front of you and Finarfin used that to his advantage. His head was resting on your thighs and he was telling your very pregnant belly a silly story, claiming he was telling the little one so that he would stop kicking you.

“Onece upon a time, there was a very pretty golden bunny that adored carrots! He liked them so much, he ate all the carrots that existed! The bunny was then sad, because there were no carrots left to eat and he realised he was also lonely ; he had no friends. A majestic and beautiful swan then descended from the sky on day, calling out to the bunny. She told him ‘I will give you carrot seeds, bunny, but only if you promise to let your greed rest aside and share the carrots you grow to all the other animals that are starving!’ The bunny, having learned his lesson, accepted the deal. Later, when the carrots were finally ready to be eaten, he shared all of them with the other animals. There was a magnificent crow, a beautiful fox, an enchanting nightingale and a baby lion! No longer famished, all these animals thanked the bunny and promised him that they would come to his aid if he ever needed it. When they were about to go on their way, the bunny called out : ‘Wait!’ The animals turned around and looked at him, confused. The bunny shyly told them : ‘I would like to be your friend, if you would have me!’ The animals all looked at each other, unsure. This bunny was the reason they had starved! But in the end, they accepted. And so, the animals never went hungry again and the bunny wasn’t lonely anymore. The End.”

You giggled at Finarfin’s story, asking him with a raised brow :

“Where do you get your imagination, love?”

“Well, I have the most inspiring muse of all times!” He responded, winking at you.

You both laughed and spent the rest of the afternoon lazily lounging under that tree.

~~~

It was now night, and for someone who had such a lazy day, you were exhausted, to say the least. Finarfin was of course there to take care of you, murmuring terms of endearments to you. Finarfin started to massage you and you relaxed back into his hands. He then started humming a song you didn’t know and you smiled, appreciating his voice. That is, until your baby kicked you hard.

“Ouch! Oh, Eru! You’re going to be the death of me, little one!”

Finarfin chuckled and pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck. While you grumbled, faking being irritated with your baby, Finarfin started leaving gentle bites on your neck and ears. When he sucked upon a particularly sensitive spot, you moaned.

“Ahh, Arafinwë..!”

You yelped when you felt him pick you up and carry you bridal style to your shared bed. He put you down delicately on your back and you looked into his eyes, lust beginning to make heat spread in your body. Your husband took one of your hands in his and kissed your knuckles, while simultaneously disrobing you with the other. When you felt he was taking too long, you took matters into your own hands and finished undressing yourself and started to do the same to your love, who simply looked at you, adoration and devotion pouring out of his eyes and making you want to cry.

When you were both naked, you started to kiss him deeply, hearing and feeling him moan. You lost track of time as you made out with Finarfin, but your pussy was aching to be touched and filled. You pulled back from him and chuckled a little as his mouth followed yours. You looked into his eyes and he seemed to get the message, making you lay down on the bed excitedly. He kissed his way up your legs, passing a particularly long amount of time on the inside of your thighs. Your moans became impatient and louder, frustrated that he was so close but not where you wanted him to be!

You put a hand in his silky locks and pushed him closer to your cunt, practically desperate at this point to have any possible friction on your throbbing pussy. He went happily, moaning as he finally started to eat you out. He did so like a man starved, like your juices could make him a Vala, like this was what his purpose in life was. Your moans increased and they were the only sounds that could be heard, along with the obscene noises of Finarfin’s mouth on your pussy did. At one point, he started to rut into his hand, making him moan and grunt into your cunt, which gave you a delicious kind of pleasure. It wasn’t long before you came, chanting his name over and over, as he also spilled in his hand.

You both laid on the bed, sweaty and tired but feeling satisfied. You closed your eyes as you heard Finarfin get up and going to get a rag, shivering a little as the heat left your body, making you feel cold. You opened your eyes again as you heard Finarfin coming back, already cleaned, and starting to wipe you down with a wet and hot rag. You sighed contently and closed your eyes, Irmo’s calling becoming too insistent to resist. You vaguely heard your husband tell you to have good dreams before you fell asleep.

~~~

You woke up, feeling too hot and uncomfortable. You opened your eyes, moaning in despair as you saw the light of (telperion?) coming in through the curtains. You looked at the ceiling and suddenly tought. ‘Now’. You quickly put yourself in the foetus position as you felt an unbearably painful cramp take hold of your abdomen. You held your tummy as you cried out. This woke up your husband, who you tought called the healers in a strong and powerful voice, as you could mostly just hear your blood being pumped by your frantic heart. The healers arrived, and the rest was a painful and hazy blur, your mind seemingly hiding itself from the pain you felt.

You came back when you heard the first cries of your sweet baby and the healer telling you it was a baby boy that was healthy. The healer gently laid you small child in your awaiting arms, and you cooed at your baby.

“My small and perfect boy…” You realized as you said this that you were crying, Finarfin hugging you and kissing your cheek.

“What will his amilissë be, my love?” He gently asked you, like he was afraid of startling you.

You smiled adoringly, thinking back to the dream you had of the name of your child.

“His amilissë shall be Findaráto.”

Your husband smiled at you lovingly, before turning his eyes back to your child.

“Well hello, Findaráto.. I think your ataressë will be Ingoldo..”

Finarfin then looked back at you.

“What a beautiful name you chose for our son! He even inherited your beauty!”

You snorted, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

“He has your hair and your beautiful eyes, my dear.” You said, grinning.

“Well, he has your nose, your ears and your hands.”

“How could you know if he has my hands? His are so tiny!”

“I just know it, melmë. Call it father instinct!”

You snort again, smiling softly at your husband. Finarfin smiles back, before leaning in and kissing you on the lips, softly. He then looks down as your precious son yawns.

“Welcome to our family, Findaráto… our little bundle of joy.”

End notes = I know that in canon, Ingoldo is Finrod’s amilissë and Findaráto is ataressë, but I wanted to change it up, sooo I did. Also, ataressë means ‘father name’ and amilissë ‘mother name’.

[beginner-b]

Fynn and Lexi

Chapter 1

“Amanda, I’m fine.” I sat on the couch, feet in bunny slippers, a glass of red wine in my hand.

“Come on Lexi, live a little.” My sister’s voice rang out against the loud, blaring horns. “Stay in your lane, asshole!”

I typed, using my shoulder to hold the phone against my ear. 

His hands followed the curve of her back, pulling her into his warm embrace

“I need to finish this draft. I have three publishers interested in this story. But I needed it done last week.” 

“You’ve been writing all week. Come on. I have it on good authority that a Mr. Fynnegan Thoreau has been invited.”

“Fynn’s going?” I swallowed. My boss, the multi millionaire playboy, was a well known partier. 

“Yup.” She laughed, clicking her tongue. “Our birthday boy is a close friend of Mr. Thoreau. He even knows the manager.”

“He knows a lot of people Amy.”

As he slipped his fingers into her folds, she moaned. Her eyes rolled back, her nails clawing his shoulder.

“Really? Come on Lexi, it wouldn’t hurt you to at least try.”

I sighed, sitting back, a small smile on my lips.

“Fine.” 

“You are so predictable.” She laughed.

“I am not.” I stuck out my tongue. “I just want to be there to make sure you don’t get into trouble.”

“Oh, come on Lexi. Why don’t you admit that you want to have a good time and try to get laid by your boss?”

“I do not!” I shook my head. “And I go  out all the time.”

“I’m not talking about movie night with Sierra. I’m talking about real dates. Come on Lexi, when was the last time you got laid?”

“Amy!” I blushed, twirling a strand of hair through my fingers.

“Exactly. You need a good man. And something tells me Fynn Thoreau would be a major step up.”

“I could get fired.” I stood, tapping my foot impatiently. 

“Or you could have the most memorable night of your life.”

“He’s an arrogant prick who only dates models.” I couldn’t help sneering. I looked down, realizing I’d balled my hand into a fist. Taking a deep breath, I started to pace, clenching and unclenching my knuckles.

“He’s a man who has needs. Give a man a fish and he’ll eat for a day. Give a man tequila shots and he’ll eat you all night.”

“That’s a nice attitude” I sighed, pinching my nose.

“Look, I’ll be there in twenty. Wear that red dress. It’ll-”

A car horn blared before I heard tires screeching and what sounded like glass shattering. 

“Amy!”

“Lexi.” I could hear her voice, crying and weak. “Help.”

eight months later

“Are you Lexi?” I looked up. A man came up to the table. He had a receding hairline, Maggoo glasses, and a beer belly the size of North Dakota. He held his phone up to show me the profile picture he'd used to lure me down here. It must've been at least a decade old.  

“It’s Alexis”  My smile froze.

“I’m sorry Kenny couldn’t make it. I’m his older brother, Jeff.” He held out his hand. I hesitated to shake.

“Really?” My eyes wanted to roll. Of course ‘Kenny’ the successful lawyer with the luscious golden mane, the smoldering eyes, and the six pack abs couldn’t make it. Instead, I get the unattractive ‘brother.’ 

Thank you Tinder.

“So, what do you do for a living Jeff?” My smile tightened.

Why did Sierra talk me into this? 

I’m happy. 

So what if I hadn’t been on a date in almost three years?

I’m happy. 

This guy wasn’t even close to my type. 

I’m still happy.

I could feel Jeff’s gaze burn a hole through my breasts. I knew I should’ve worn a different shirt. This one was too small. Every time I tugged at the bottom, the top would inch closer to my bra, making me worry about exposing myself.

I swear I’m happy.

“Oh, so you’re currently between jobs ?” I tapped my fingers against the desk. “And you live with your parents. How old are you again?”

“I’m thirty seven, but I’m waiting until the market picks up.” 

I nodded. Slowly. 

“So Kenny said you had a roommate. Have you two ever done a threesome?” 

I could taste bile in my throat.

Flight of the Valkyries started playing from my purse. Grateful for the distraction, I excused myself, smiling politely.  The caller ID was a picture of an iceberg, with the name Frigid Fynn Thoreau underneath.

“Yes, Mr. Thoreau?” I walked into the brisk New York air. My fingers grew cold as I pressed my phone closer to my ear, walking toward the curb.

“Where are you?” he snapped, impatient and anxious. “I told you I needed those spreadsheets.”

“They’re on your desk.” I wobbled a bit, leaning against the storefront. The wine had settled. 

I’m glad Sierra had the car tonight.

“Ms. Málle, I’m sitting at my desk and the spreadsheet’s not here. The client-”

“Is in Japan and scheduled to call in ten minutes, I know. I emailed you an extra copy before I left in case you happened to ‘misplace’ the physical one.”

He had a tendency to misplace a lot of my files recently. He grumbled as I heard him type something into the computer. His cursing grew louder as he grew more frustrated, typing feverishly as he smacked something.

A car honked and sped past me, cutting close to the curb and almost drenching me in dirty, freezing slush water. I cussed, flipping him off. The sky was pitch black against the bright lights that dressed the skyline. People hustled past me, shoving me as they rambled about the nearest party or the last lay.

“Is it there?” I asked.

“Yes.” He hissed.

Took him long enough.

“Next time I expect a physical copy,” he growled, “On my desk.” 

He was never good with computers.

“Yes sir” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. 

“Mr. Barret is throwing a charity gala tomorrow evening. Be here at seven to print off everything on the account so I can go over it before I see him.”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday.” I protested. 

“I realize that Ms. Málle.” I could hear the self-satisfied smirk cross his lips.

“I have a date.” Another of Sierra’s prime Tinder candidates. I’d rather go through three hundred of those then deal with Thoreau before a gala event. Although he’d been a jerk to me recently, he was a cold, arrogant prick before these high society events. Always rushing me to pick up his suits, quiz him on the people attending, then discarding me for the newest model or actress he was attending with.

And somehow, the next morning, it was always my job to kick whoever it was out of his apartment.

 “Not anymore.” He replied sharply before my phone beeped twice, signaling the call had ended.

As I stared down at my phone, I ground my teeth and raised my hand to flag down a cab. I distinctly remember printing out a physical copy because one of the interns had used it as a coaster. I wasn't about to let him get away with punishing me for his mistake again.

“Where to miss?” The cabbie leaned over and smiled at me.

“Williams Tower” I crossed my arms and huffed.

“Going to put in a late night at the office?” The cabbie asked as he pulled out onto the main road.

“Something like that.” I looked back into the restaurant where I saw my date chatting up the waitress. He leaned back in his chair, seemingly unaware that I had left him.

As we pulled away, I watched the city. A light drizzle dotted the tinted glass. A man in a trim dark gray suit held hands with a young blonde woman. They smiled and laughed, he kissed her lightly before stepping out to call a cab, holding a newspaper above his head. We rounded the corner. Two girls rushed up from the subway station, dressed in high heels and tight, shimmery dresses. They looked almost identical, with dark hair that fell in waves around their faces. They were clutching at each other, laughing, trying to keep dry as the rain started to pour. I needed to call Amanda tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow would be one of her good days. Maybe she’d let me come visit.

 Maybe.

The cab lurched as I stared at the oblong building before me. It was all but dark, except at the very tip, where the head was bathed in bright, white light. I paid the cabbie and stepped onto the curb.

[metalomagnetic]

What would happen if all of Voldemort’s love interests from your fics met up? I’d think Tom would try and kill them all but lmao 🤣 other than that?

Just because I love you, and for the Big Day tomorrow, I wrote this to amuse you!

Canon Voldemort 

Voldemort frantically turns the pages of the eight book he read that night. His fingers had gone numb from all the notes he took, there’s ink all over them. But he can’t stop. He needs to find a way to send all these lunatics back to their dimensions.

Bella isn’t so bad, but she’s walking around claiming they have a daughter together, keeps trying to talk to him about the girl. Delphini. As if Voldemort would ever allow any progeny of his, however unlikely, to be called Delphini. 

Then there’s Bella’s crazy cousin, with a dark mark on his arm that Voldemort did not put there. He looks hostile and destructive, and Voldemort is pretty sure he’s drunk. “Do you remember that time when you called me a big boy? What did you mean by that?” he slurs at Voldemort, speaking from behind a wall of smoke coming from his cigarette.

Abraxas Malfoy, pouting in a corner, with well manicured nails.

Grindelwald, who, for some reason, looks like a young man, calls Voldemort ‘liebling’, talks about returning to their cabin and eating strawberries.

Then there’s Potter. He mostly hides behind Dumbledore, but at some point he started drinking with his godfather, and when he was sufficiently inebriated, he showed Voldemort a wedding ring. “We’re married,” he hiccuped. “We’re raising our daughter together.”

And if *that* didn’t freak Voldemort out, well- Albus fucking Dumbledore, with a mane of red hair, gives him lust filled looks.

But nothing, nothing is as panic inducing as the young man that refuses to leave Voldemort’s side. Himself. His younger self. He calls Voldemort ‘Marvolo’ and he has a terrifying possessive look in his eyes.

Voldemort really needs to find a way to get rid of all these people, send them back from whatever hell spawned them. And he also needs to find the versions of himself, from all of these dimensions, that apparently get entangled with the worst partners ever.

Bella

Her poor lord looks stressed. He’s hiding behind his books, stacking heavy tomes atop the other, hunching behind them. Bella would like to go and talk to him, comfort him, but the boy- Tom- threatened to cut her open and eat her if she gets closer. She’d have laughed at anyone that dared say that to her, but this Tom seems to be her lord’s younger self, so she’s hesitant.

She’s certain she can charm him, too, if she has to. After all, if she charmed her lord, how hard could it be to get to this adolescent? 

Her lord would pick her over all these other contenders, she’s certain. She’s his most loyal, and she gave him a daughter. She’s the only woman there, definitely the most attractive out of the bunch. Well, there’s Malfoy that looks almost as lovely as her, and then there’s Sirius- but Sirius seems confused as to why he’s there. He’s too drunk to make sense, anyway. 

Bella will surely win her lord’s attention.

Abraxas

Tom looks more menacing than ever, standing at the side of the man that must be his future self. Abraxas tried to draw him away and ask him what in Merlin’s name was happening, but Tom told him to get lost. He called him ‘Abraxas’ instead of ‘Malfoy’, as if they’re friends, as if Abraxas hadn’t sucked his prick just the day before.

All these strange people are crammed together in a room, and Abraxas is getting uncomfortable. A blond man that looks suspiciously like a picture of Grindelwald he once saw in an old paper keeps giving him dirty looks.

Abraxas wants his father to come and get him out of there.

Gellert

His liebling is close to hysteria. The boy at his side looks more like the man Gellert is spending eternity with, but Gellert knows his true liebling is the older man taking notes, muttering curses and threatening  to kill everyone. That’s the murderous, psychotic man he knows and loves, even if he’s lacking a nose. But his eyes are precious, red and sweet, like the strawberries they have back home.

Gellert will let him struggle with his books for a little while longer, and then he’ll go and show him the solution.

No one else can help him with this conundrum; he’ll value me above all others.

Well, there’s Albus there, looking quite handsome if Gellert is honest with himself. He could potentially have a solution for the predicament they find themselves in. But he looks so confused, talking with that Potter lad, so Gellert knows he has no competition.

Sirius

Sirius is never drinking again. Merlin, I promise, I swear I won’t ever drink or take muggle drugs ever again. This is the weirdest hallucination he’s ever had. Apparently, everyone there is Voldemort’s lover. Ridiculous. I don’t even like men! Well, not that much. He doesn’t think so, at least.

Voldemort somehow lost his nose, even if he was just fine the last time Sirius saw him.

There’s a boy that claims he’s James’ son; he does look like Prongs, and he has Lily’s eyes. Sirius thinks this new Potter has a crush on him, which just freaks him out.

Bella’s older, but just as hot as always. Sirius decides to go sit at her side, these other people are freaking him out, but his eyes keep getting distracted by Tom. Sirius once saw Tom in a picture, but Morgana’s tits, the picture didn’t do him justice.

He’s- well, he’s interesting, isn’t he? And he’s so furious, too, guarding noseless Voldemort from anyone that attempts to approach him.

Albus

Albus can’t believe he fell for a dark lord. Again. When the poor boy named Harry fills him in on everything, he feels incredibly betrayed.

Voldemort. What a stupid, ridiculous name. And the lies someone told this Harry- as if Albus would ever treat a child as badly as Voldemort claims he’d been treated. Outrageous!

And when Harry gets drunk, he accuses Albus of sending him to his death, just to get rid of Voldemort. The boy must be under a powerful confundus spell.

“Oh, no, he’s correct,” Gellert says, hearing Albus speaking to himself. “You turned out to be a terrible, patronising, manipulating arsehole.”

Albus tries to ignore him. He’s studied the room, and the runes inscribed in the corner seem to say that they can only get out of it when Voldemort chooses one of them as a partner.

And Albus really has to get out of there. He needs to make sure he learns all he can about this dark Lord Voldemort that pretended to be Tom Gaunt, and find a way to defeat him and stop him from terrorising the world.

Only there’s another Tom Gaunt at his side. A boy- no older than seventeen, maybe eighteen. There’s a hungry look in his eyes. He looks fierce, but he looks vulnerable, too.

Albus thinks there’s still hope for him. Albus plans to get out of that room with Tom and Harry, and try to look after them, protect them from Voldemort. Maybe the boys will be a good influence on each other.

Harry

Harry wants his Voldemort. He forgot how awful the original was. How insane. He hisses to himself, scribbling like crazy, promising death and torture to no one in particular.

He’s even ignoring Bellatrix, which his Voldemort would have never done.

Yet Harry’s having somewhat of a good time. In the back of his head he’s certain his Voldemort, urged by Delphini, will find a way to get him out of that room and deal with Original Voldemort. In the meantime, Harry finally gets to have some drinks with Sirius.

God, but he’s so hot.

And he feels a bit less guilty, seeing that even Sirius, in another dimension, had fallen pray to Voldemort’s manipulations.

“I am not fucking him, I swear!” Sirius protests. “Merlin’s balls, I don’t even like men! I just had a blowjob or two from some muggle men, but only because I was drunk!”

And there’s Dumbledore. Even Dumbledore fell in love with a version of Voldemort.

Really, I had no chance. Harry feels so much better now, conscience clean for once.

If Sirius is hot- well, then Tom Riddle is also hot. Though he insists his name is Tom Gaunt. Not that he talked to Harry- oh no, Sirius and Dumbledore had to stop this Tom Gaunt from killing Harry, as soon as they met and the confusion was over.

And Voldemort himself had to stop Tom from killing Bellatrix. He almost didn’t make it in time, Tom’s fingers around her throat, before Voldemort finally pulled him off her.

After another drink with Sirius, Harry decides to go over to Bellatrix and talk about Delphini.

Tom

“Can you stop touching me?” Marvolo asks, voice high and a little desperate. “I’m trying to focus!”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re alright,” Tom tells him, softly.

Marvolo hadn’t rested in a long time. Tom just wants to convince him to take a break and sleep.

“Sleep? Are you irrational? Sleep? With Dumbledore and Potter here? With Grindelwald?”

“I’d protect you,” Tom assures him. “No one would get past me.”

Marvolo looks at him. “We both know you’re the biggest threat out of all of them.”

Tom smiles. His Marvolo was always paranoid Tom will turn on him. But Tom would never.

Abraxas keeps trying to talk to him. Apparently they were lovers in his dimension. Tom shudders, internally. Though, really, Abraxas wouldn’t have been that bad. Not compared to Dumbledore. Or Grindelwald.

How is Tom supposed to kill these two?

He is sure he will make short work of Potter and Bellatrix. Abraxas, too. But Dumbledore and Grindelwald....

I’ll find a way. No one will take Marvolo away from me.

Sirius Black looks like his mother, only somehow better. He keeps eyeing Tom, now and again.

Maybe Tom could spare this one, keep him as a pet. Maybe he could fuck him, and pretend he’s Marvolo.

Tom smiles. Yes, he could do that. Just as soon as he gets some food into Marvolo, who looks like if he’d have hair, he would be ripping it off.

[harveybwabbit92]

Invader Zim scenarios: reactions to Hair cuts.

[Okay so like Zim and the tallest are under the impression that human hair is actually, super small antennas and freak out when they walking on you getting it cut or trimming your hair.]

Zim: 

Zim pulled himself away from his computer and he got up from his chair and stretched, his legs felt tingly and numb; protesting from having to stand up suddenly a few seconds of wiggling his legs fixed that, and the short Irken made his way to the elevator, he needed something to eat. When he got into the kitchen Zim saw Skoodge making a bowl of choco-poofs {Zim, Drena and Y/n did a little experimenting to see what earth foods were safe for Zim to eat.] the slightly taller Irken snatched the bowl before the stubbier Irken could even take a bite.

Skoodge frowned as he watched Zim eat and with a sigh made another bowl. "Say. *much* where's Dren?" Zim asked assuming his mate was out shopping or monitoring the Dib-stink's family, however what Skoodge told him made his blood run cold! "Hm, Oh she said she was getting her hair cut?" in a flash Zim had spat his cereal out covering Skoodge in in milk and bits, the stubby Irken moaned in disgust as Zim rushed out of the house. 

Zim followed the tracker he placed in her bag and found the salon Drena was currently sitting in Zim's pulse quickened as he saw that butcher woman bring a pair of blades close to his Drena's head, needless to say both the blond and her stylist nearly crapped themselves as the door bust open and this green skin kid stepped in shrieking. "GET THOSE WRETCHED BLADES AWAY FROM ZIM'S LOVE WORM!?" Drena nearly choked on her saliva as Zim started threateningly advancing on the stunned stylist, the blond jumped up from the chair excused herself for a moment dragging Zim into a far corner.

"What are you doing?" she hissed as the still agitated alien who kept trying to glare over her shoulder. "stopping that butcher from mutilating you." Zim huffed as Drena looked at him incredulously. "Butcher me? You mean my hair cut?"  the Irken shuddered in disgust. "How can you just let them cut off your antennas like that?!" the blond blinked. "Zim my hair isn't like your antennas." Now Zim was the one confused.

Drena tried to explain what hair was and what purpose it served. "It's like...Grass! Y'know grass?" the Irken nodded slowly. "And when grass gets to long, it's harder to keep under control so people cut it, but it always grows back." Zim seemed to understand as he shifted uncomfortably. "And doesn't hurt?" he pressed keep his eyes trained on Drena's face. "Nope!" She chirped.

The stylist coughed the blond looked over and saw pointing at her watch... right appointment. "You can watch if you want?" Zim reluctantly stayed and watched the Stylist get back to wok on Drena's hair his stomach churned as he watch the scissors snip away at he blond locks an hour later her waist length hair was now at her shoulder blades.

Drena looked pleased with the result while Zim was still mulling over the fact she willingly had pieces of herself cut off for cosmetic reasons. "What do you think?" Drena asked fidgeting with a strand Zim cautiously reached up to run his hand through her neatly cut mane. "It's nice..." he mutter a pink hue donning his cheeks, Drena payed the stylist and the two went home where Skoodge fainted when he saw Drena's hair cut! He thought hair was a another word for nails and freaked.

========================================================================

The Tallest: 

Y/n stood nervously staring into the mirror a pair of scissors in one hand and her combed bangs in the other, while her audience consisting of her boyfriends younger siblings watched wide eyed from her bed. See this morning Y/n noticed her hair was getting a bit long/longer and decided she needed a trim. Well Red's sister Varda overheard her talking to herself and thought she misheard the liaison when she said "I need to cut my hair..." under her breath when the young Irken asked what Y/n meant?

The little Irken nearly had panic attack! which alerted Purple's brother Xarr who found Y/n trying to console the sobbing Irken child, who proceeded to tell the assassin what was up, needless to say you had a heck of a time explaining that your hair wasn't the same as their antennas, and that no one was forcing you, nor had you committed a crime against the Tallest! It was just for cosmetic reasons! like nail painting or wearing make-up.  

Of course now the two younglings wanted to see you cut your hair, And that's how you ended up this situation! Xarr and Varda just sat on your bed gawking a to you... 

Y/n carefully brought the scissors to her bangs as Varda and Xarr's antennas slowly stood up straighter in anticipation. When the door open and... "Y/n have you seen....WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Purple shrill voice broke the silence causing everyone to jump, Y/n gasped as the scissors were yanked from her hand by a frazzled Red, she looked over as saw Purple covering Varda and Xarr's eyes as the two protested. "What the krell were you about to do?!" Red demand causing Y/n to recoil from the harshness in his tone. "C-cutting my bangs?" the human squeaked as the two Irken rulers looked at her appalled.

While their siblings were talking over each other repeating what Y/n had told them earlier. "It's fine, it won't hurt!" both Purple and Red were at a loss... While Y/n gave them the same explanation she gave the kid, of course Red and Purple were a little more stubborn then their siblings, So Y/n resorted to showing them a photo of when she was a child with way longer/shorter hair then she has now both Tallest were speechless as they kept looking at the photo and back at you unsure. "And this doesn't hurt?" Purple inquired brow arched. "I promise it doesn't." Y/n affirmed as Red reluctant gave her back the scissors.

Y/n's audience grew to four as the Irken's nervously watched her comb out her hair and snipped away a few inches off her bangs trying not the look ill, 10 minutes/half hour Y/n was done and examining her handy work. "Okay everything looks good and even." Y/n turned to look at her observers. "Wha'cha think, good?" Xarr and Varda both complimented her, being young and eccentric, self-dismemberment was considered totally cool, so they had no problems with it. 

Red and Purple on the other hand, just smiled sheepishly and nodded, Oh boy... This is something they'll have to get used to, not two days later you introduced them to hair chalk and dyeing when you walked passed them sporting teal and pink streaks in your hair.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Rainy Afternoon- Klaus Hargreeves x reader

Summary: It’s supposed to be movie night, though Klaus always seems to change that in one way or another.

Warning: fluff, smut mentions

Masterlist

Klaus gently grabbed your shoulders, his face inches from yours as he looks deeply into your eyes, “We’re watching Twilight.” He says softly in the most gentle and sweetest of voices, like he telling you he loves you for the first time or something of the sort.

You let out an amused snort, “No, we are not.” The words leaving your lips bluntly and with as much enthusiasm as a stick.

Laying sprawled out on yours and Klaus’ shared apartment bed, your eyes trailing over the chipped white ceiling as your cuddly man hugs your torso. You couldn’t feel happier or more loved right now in this very moment while a storm rages against the window.

It’s about three in the afternoon and the clouds don’t seem to want to move, nor does the sky appear to remain keen on halting its assault of never ending water droplets onto the city below. But that’s all well and fine with you and Klaus on this lazy Thursday.

So far the two of you have half successfully baked a chocolate cake and eaten mostly all of it for your breakfast/lunch like the health conscious adults you are. Then for almost two hours you both danced around the apartment like wild hoodlums, making sure to push all the furniture aside for safety and to better show off your fantastical dancing skills. After that rush of excitement and heavy physical activity, you both stuck your heads out the window to let the soft pattering of the rain cool you two off.

Once that was done, Klaus dragged your bum to the bedroom for some kisses and a needed cuddle session now resulting in the two of you laying in your casual positioning for the time being. The only sounds to be heard is the pouring of the rain outside and Klaus’ dramatic sighing he does when he wants your attention.

Though you’re trying to ignore it just to fuck with him, even so, it appears your man will not let the room stay in a peaceful quietness. With Klaus. Never.

“What if we had tails?” Randomly questions Klaus, the feel of his hard chin digging into your rips as he tries to look up at you for an answer.

Tilting your head down ever so slightly to meet his emerald gaze you smirk, “What if you shut the fuck up?”

Abruptly lifting himself off of you, you’re left slightly colder as his face feigns offense, “Rude.” He tisks in disapproval, “Y/N you kiss me with that mouth.” He giggles, moving to hover over you, both of his muscular arms to either side of your face.

Looking up into his green irises you can’t help the love struck smile that tugs at the corners of your lips, “You’re one to talk considering yesterday I was making you say a whole lot worse while we were...”

Suddenly his lips are on yours and the slight chill you might have once had is gone in an instant. He’s warm and welcoming as always, letting this moment take its sweet time as he slowly lowers himself flush against you.

Feeling the full weight of Klaus is a solid blessing, he’s warm and enough to cover your smaller frame which is always nice. Soon he’s caressing your hair as his legs fall on the mattress in between your thighs while he continues to move gently against your lips.

All to soon Klaus pulls away, resting his elbows against the bed as he stares deeply into your beaming gaze and almost swollen lips from the swiftly pleasant previous events. His hair is a usual mess, dark brown locks throwing themselves every which way. His unkempt mane is slightly longer then normal but you’re not complaining, gives you something to tug when you’re getting rawed into the mattress.

Without a second to spare he leans down to press a sweet kiss upon your lips before pulling away just as quickly, a mischievous glimmer to his eye that sends an electric bolt of excitement into your body.

Letting your finger tips lightly drag down the side of his handsome features, he closes his eyes as you smile, “I know that look. What do you have in mind we do next?”

Opening his eyes once more, he kisses your cheek, “Oh I have something very intriguing swirling through this wonderland.” He quips, ever so slightly pressing into you as he pecks the corner of your lips.

“Klaus.” You halfheartedly warn, “You’re treading on some very dangerous territory my love, are you even prepared?” You purr, sending shivers down his naked spine as you drag your nails gently down his back, causing the man to close his eyes in pleasure. “You are weak to my power.”

Leaning his head against yours, Klaus tugs at a small lock of your hair, “Y/N. You have no fucking idea.” He mutters lowly, oh you got him now.

“You are nothing but a simple weary traveler who’ve lost their way in the storm.” You whisper, “Wandering, lonely, desperate...”

“Y/N.” He warns, though there is no real threat that could make you fall back in fear, Klaus loves when you act like this. God you’ve got him by a string.

“A man alone is no way to live in this world. It’s a fortunate thing I have found you then, and taken you into my castle.” Your words are soft and sensual as your body begins to press up into his growing member, “Now look at us, how far things have gone from when I found you alone in the woods. Now you’re tiny and desperately in need of being touched.”

“Oh lord.” Mumbles Klaus as you tug at his tiny neon boxers, your lips dancing across his cheeks the whole time.

——

Panting from Klaus’ persistent love making capabilities that’s left you sweaty and slightly sore in more areas then your thighs. You take a deep satisfied breath, body nude and hot as you lay against the beds soft blankets, listening to the pitter patter of rain against the window.

Klaus is a sight to behold, with his hair a wild jungle and his body absolutely glistening in the neon lights of your room. He lays on his back next to you, eyes closed as his face reveals a big dumb smile blessing his handsome features for you and only you to enjoy.

His naked chest rises and falls in repetitive slow waves as he keeps a single hand protectively against your wrist that’s closest to him. You can tell he’s spent, giving all of himself to you in many positions and various places throughout the room is no easy feat. But you’re worth everything to him.

You blink up at the ceiling, immensely enjoying the feeling of being naked and completely vulnerable to the world in this very moment. Though the prying eyes of the universe isn’t a huge problem right now, you’re just grateful to have someone like Klaus who absolutely worships you.

He’s never made you feel like shit, never judged you, let you down when you needed him most, or mocked you for anything. He’s always made sure to keep you close and to never let his addictions get in the way of your love and deep friendship. Sure he’s struggled, but you’ve always been there to reach out a hand when he stumbles.

And for that he owes you everything, possibly even his life. Though he’d never want to fully admit that, he’s still a bit stubborn in those areas. But without a doubt he has always shown you how much you mean to him, and that means more to you then anything in the whole wide world.

Gently tapping your wrist, Klaus stirs from beside you, “Y/N.” He whispers, causing you to turn your attention over to him.

“Yes?” You whisper back, eyes trailing from his lips over to his emerald eyes.

He breaks out into a cute little smile when your gaze meet, “I’m hungry.”

“Me too.” You confirm, shifting yourself on the bed so that you’re now laying on your stomach facing Klaus, “I have a fantastic idea and it involves you going to get us something to eat.”

“Blah.” Complains Klaus with a pout, “Can’t we just order gummy worms? Oh, some of that Thai from Fifth Avenue?”

Shaking your head you chuckle, “I’m afraid not, they don’t serve gelatin sour candy or have delivery.”

“Tragic.”

“Well....we could go on a heist to the 7 eleven, you wanna join me?” You ask while gently twirling his hair with your fingers as he thinks of an excuse or hopefully a more positive answer.

“Ugh but the rain.” Whines your man as he throws his arm up to point dramatically at the window before it falls back onto the bed with a thwump sound. “Why do humans need to eat?”

Leaning your head down, you gently kiss his lips for a few moments to silence his dull excuses before pulling away once more, “Why do humans need to fuck?” You whisper to him in the darkly lit room as rain continues to softly patters against the glass.

Raising a brow, you watch as his lips shift into a grin, “Fair point my dear. Fair point.” He mumbles while reaching a hand up to press your lips against his once more. He tastes so sweet and delicious, but alas your stomach growls in defiance as it complains of your hunger.

Tugging on his hair, you lift your head up to give him a half annoyed look, “Stop kissing me. We need to eat something and the fridge is empty.”

Smiling cheekily he softly caresses your skin, “Why can’t I just eat you instead? I know how absolutely scrumptious you are.” Sweet talks Klaus in that compellingly sly voice of his that absolutely drives you wild.

Biting your bottom lip, you contemplate taking him up on that implied offer just as another pang of hunger curls in your body. “I’m thinking cheap frozen pizza. How about you hot-stuff? And anyways, what else you got going on?”

“Showing my girlfriend how much I love her on this fine day?”

“I like it, but wrong answer.” You reply with a smirk, “Now come on, let’s get some food so we can come back here and be lazy again.”

Klaus rolls his eyes, “Grrr fine. But only because I love you.”

[opluffys]

Reverse Captain- Killer x Reader x Eustass Kid

okay okay this is like the last old story from my archive account that i’m posting here *maybe? lmao idk* :,). i’m head over heels in love with killer so i got like ten wips for him lololo. lowkey don’t like how this one turned out, but it’s a couple of months old so idc anymore hehe. anyway i hope you guys enjoy! oh, also sorry if the spacing looks weird, i was too lazy to go through the whole thing and edit it...

-smut/nsfw-

You felt deliciously full and sore, the quick sliding of your captain's cock against your tight walls nearly made you lose consciousness.

"Fuck... Kid..!" You yelled, feeling his girth stretch you.

He grunted behind you and continued to thrust into you wildly, almost as wild as that red hair of his, which was now stuck to his forehead.

Your breasts were flush against the table of his office, rocking back and forth, creating a wanted friction that fueled your desire.

It was no surprise that Kid was rough in bed, just one look at the man and pretty sure anyone could tell. But you just weren't ready for it all, the way his cock just hit every spot inside of you so perfectly... When he leaned down to nip your ear and leave harsh markings on your neck, you felt like you couldn't keep up with him.

You broke the eye contact you had with countless papers and unfinished works in progress on Kid's desk, and looked fervently for your sword. You took that damn thing with you everywhere you went, you would risk your own life for that sword.

When you finally made eye contact with that beautiful blue casing, your face illuminated, you quickly grabbed it, using the hilt of the sword to press against Kid's chest.

"What the fuck..." He started angry, then stumbling backwards onto a stray chair in the middle of the room that fell victim to you and Kid.

"I think you need to slow down a bit, Captain." You said, your voice like sweet honey as you sauntered over to where he was sat, straddling his thighs.

"So you used Sea Stone to tell me that?!" He snapped, about to get up before you pressed the hilt against him once again.

"Ah ah. Feisty are we? I think it's my turn to take charge for the night, don't you, my Captain?" You asked, raising your hips to line yourself up right against his shaft, teasing the redding head with your slick entrance.

"Damn woman..." He growled, trying to get up again, but you were barely faster than him, trailing the hilt of the sword all over his body, making him groan tiredly.

"I would fucking end you if you weren't such a good doctor." He grumbled, still attempting to take charge every few minutes, evidently failing.

"That's all I am? Your doctor?" You responded, faking a disappointment tone. You still continued to rub your folds teasingly over the painfully hard head of your captain.

He raised his hand and you raised your sword, he almost chuckled, instead sending a smirk your way.

"Relax, princess. If I still wanted to actually take charge, you would've been screaming my name over my desk years ago. I guess I'll let you dominate this one time, but next time," He leaned into your ear, nipping it and taking the sensitive cartilage into his mouth. "You're gonna be wishing that you had done it my way." He finished.

You gulped nervously, the tone of his voice nearly made you want to bend yourself back over that desk, forgetting the thoughts of ever wanting to dominate your captain ever again.

Kid let out booming laughter at your reaction, about to come up with a snarky retort, but he was soon silenced by a grunt of pleasure as you finally decided to lower yourself onto his hardened arousal.

"Oh, fuck... So tight..." He whispered, biting his lip as he tried to silence his sounds.

You shuddered noticeably as he filled you to the brim, no, even further than that. He never let you ride him before, because 'You're too slow.' as he said. But as of now, being slow worked in your favour, making the red haired captain begin to lose his cool, grunts and groans of frustration leaving his full painted lips.

"Oh! Oh Captain!! Yes!!" You yelled, feeling his strong arms just tightly wrapped against you and feeling his warm pants fanning across your equally warm face just did something for you.

"Keep talking like that... I won't fulfil my end of the deal." He panted, hands attached to your plush hips, grinding against him thoughtfully.

"That'd be a shame, Captain... Because next time, I'm up for whatever you wanna do. And I mean anything, Kid." You said, sultrily pulling him in and out of you, your wet insides protesting him pulling out every time.

That seemed to shut him up for a while.

"So I've been thinking." You started, bottoming out on his lap, hissing in pleasure after feeling so full. "Your first mate, Killer... He doesn't like me much?" You asked, warming his cock, leaning your forehead against his pectorals.

"I know how Killer ticks. He doesn't hate you or anything, just no reason to make conversation with you. Why do you ask?" Kid replied, unconsciously bucking his hips upwards once in a while, earning you to pull your sword out and poke him with it a couple of times.

"No reason. I just think he's kinda sexy. What's under that mask leaves my imagination running wild, ya know." You said playfully, using your agile hands to tweak and pinch every inch of his built torso.

"What are you really getting at, (First Name)." He said, tone now completely serious, and even though he was stilled inside of you, length twitching and just dying to ravage your insides, the captain's voice never faltered, remaining serious.

"Okay, maybe I daydream of being pinned under your first mate, childhood friend, whatever. But hey, I admit it that he's really, really hot. Okay, happy now, Eustass?" You groaned, hitting your head against his chest in embarrassment, ready for him to scream at you for wanting to have sex with his best friend.

"Okay."

"Yes, I deserve whatever punishment you think is fit- wait, what?" You paused, thinking that you didn't hear him properly.

"I was your first, but by no means were you mine. So if you wanna fuck another dude, at least do it when I'm gone, or some shit." He grunted, rolling his eyes when he saw your surprised expression.

"Fuck, Kid. Please bend me over and fuck me as hard as you want." You whimpered, feeling so pleased at his response.

"With pleasure, princess." He replied, sending a wicked grin your way, harsh hands attached to your sides.

You stood at the edge of the ship, waving goodbye to your captain, who stood alongside Heat and Wire, going into the next island that you all had drifted to.

The two of you decided to hatch up a not too great plan of leaving you and Killer alone on the ship, which was 'I leave with Heat and Wire to the next island, because I'm captain, I do whatever the fuck I want.' which, had actually worked out well.

He sent a shit eating smile your way, then turned around to take his leave, the two other men following their captain.

Killer stood by your side silently, he was never one for being chatty, you knew that much. You took a few looks at the man, his plain black shirt hugging his muscles so tight, that scar on his arm made you tighten your legs, feeling an undeniable warmth flood your senses. You continued your not so subtle stares, the way his blonde mane fell down his broad shoulders and framed his body looked phenomenal, and the only thing you couldn't see was that damn face of his. You stared at the dozen holes on the striped mask, almost like trying to see through it.

"Is something the matter?" He asked, sounding more like a statement than a question. You stiffened, looking upwards towards the blonde, feeling so small in his presence.

You didn't get to be in bed with Eustass Kid for feeling small, though.

"No, Killer." You said, dragging his name out from your tongue, walking closer to his stature. You leaned against his strong chest, a gentle hand laying on his rippling muscles.

"But I think that you have something the matter with me." You said, taking your hand off of him, giving him a sly smile.

"You must've imagined it." He replied coolly, walking away to his quarters, not even giving you a chance to further your attempt at a conversation.

You clicked your tongue and walked past Kid's lackeys, who were all staring at your ass while you passed by, going to wandering into the kitchen.

You turned your head to look at them, smiling at how painfully obvious they were being while gawking at you. If only Killer sent a single gaze your way like these men here, it'd make your job of seduction a lot easier.

You took a seat in the kitchen, a stray chair in front of the stove. You picked at your nails, desperately waiting for someone to scream for your help, claiming they've been injured and needed your help. Though it was a bit bad to wait for someone to become injured, it was your role to assist them.

You didn't know when, but you leaned your head over onto your hand and started to doze off for a while, only jolting awake when you heard the sound of running water from behind you.

"Finally awake?"

You turned to where the voice came from, swallowing hard when you saw that mess of blonde hair.

"There's a plate in front of you, if you're hungry." He said, continuing to wash dishes. Yes, of course you were hungry, but not for food.

You hummed softly, getting up to smooth your skirt and walk over to Killer, offering your hand to help. "Maybe later. How about some assistance?" You asked, settling next to him to dry the wet plates. He shrugged lightly, his blonde tendrils swaying along his strong shoulders. Oh, how you wanted to just grab onto those shoulders while he thrusted into you wildly, grunting and groaning in your ear how you took him so well-

"Here."

You snapped out of your daydreams and took the plate from him, drying it off and placing it onto the shelf.

The two of you sustained a steady rhythm of washing and drying for a while, until you accidentally had dropped a glass cup, seeming to smash into a million pieces upon impact.

"Shit." You mumbled, crouching down to pick up the glass with your bare hands, of course, a bad idea, but you weren't weak, you could take a few cuts as long as you cleaned the mess.

Killer stood silently behind you, admiring the view of you bent down, even though he really shouldn't be. He pulled you up by the arms, surprising you, nearly dropping the glass shards.

You looked at his mask with a perplexed look on your face, dropping the bits of glass into the trash bin, dusting your hands off.

Killer started walking over to you, and you, being confused of what he needed, continued to back up, until your back hit the wall.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to drop it or anything. Besides, I cleaned it up. We all good?" You asked, looking up at him.

"Why do you do this, (First Name)." He asked, grabbing your chin in his calloused hand, forcing your wandering eyes to peer into the mask.

"Do what?" You replied, resting your hand atop his sculpted arm, his muscle twitching at your touch.

"Make me want to pin you against the wall and fuck your brains out." He said, not moving his hand from your skin.

You froze in place, it seemed your job was easier than you had thought. "So do it, Killer." You smiled, tracing your hands over his strong torso.

"I can't." He answered, moving away from you, back to the sink to dry the rest of the dishes. You frowned, your painted lips then creating a flat line as you stood in thought.

"You can. I'm the captain's girl, right?" You said, walking behind him, trailing your nails through the material of the black shirt, feeling his muscles tense under you. "And you're captain when he's gone." You said, standing on your tippy toes to nip at his strong neck, leaving a barely visible mark behind.

You were sure you didn't even blink before you were over the counter, Killer's arm against your back, preventing you to move. A smile spread across your features, sighing contently as you felt his other hand squeeze and pinch along your clothed body.

"Mm, Killer..." You whimpered softly, grinding against his crotch. His breath hitched, but he easily retaliated, a loud hiss of pleasure leaving your lips as you felt a stinging sensation on your ass.

"I guess you're just like captain. Always wanting to take charge." You sighed, feeling the cool air hit your dripping cunt, accommodating the size of Killer's digits. "I guess so." He said, his gaze on how you took his three fingers.

You moaned loudly, biting your lip while shifting your weight from foot to foot, unable to take the torture any longer. "I didn't come here for your fingers." You grumbled, closing your eyes as he curled his fingers deep inside of you.

"Yeah, but this is probably the only time I'm going to be able to enjoy you. Gotta take it nice," He stopped, pulling his fingers out to circle your clit. "And slow." He finished. You were sure he was smirking underneath that mask.

"It doesn't have to be." You whimpered, backing your hips against him again, feeling his bulge rub against you. You heard him take a sharp inhale, contemplating whether to continue the teasing, or to just give in.

"Please." You begged, placing your forehead against the hard table.

And he had his answer.

The sound of a fumbling belt buckle behind you put a smile on your face. "Finally." You mumbled, feeling his tip press against your entrance. You bit your lip from letting out a scream as he suddenly filled you, a shaky sigh leaving Killer's lips.

"Ah... Fuck, Killer!" You panted, your hands grabbing the counter harshly. His tan arm lifted from you, now squeezing your hips tightly, pulling you back against him, relishing in your warmth.

"Killer... Fuck... You stretch me so good!" You yelled, moaning when you felt him fill you over and over again. "You're awfully quiet back there, am I not what you expected?" You said, a fake tone of sadness lacing your voice.

"Unlike you or Kid, I'm not so vocal." He responded, trying not to show the strain on his voice, even when you were wrapped so tightly against him, your pussy dragging him in deeper and deeper with every thrust. "You're even better than I thought, (First Name)." Killer said, pushing himself into you deeper than what you thought possible.

"Isn't this position boring? Why don't you pin me against the wall and fuck my brains out like you proposed? You can even have me do the work and ride you, or even-" You were cut off when your mouth was filled with Killer's long fingers, taking your tongue between them. "You know, you make a good point. I can't see the faces you're making." He said, pulling out of you slowly.

"Why don't we go somewhere more, private." He said, his deep voice making your legs shake. You nodded fervently, pulling your panties up and adjusting your skirt. You tried to take a step forward, but your wobbly knees betrayed you, nearly making you fall down until Killer took your hand, pulling you up gently. "We weren't even going for that long." He said, making sure that you could stand before letting you go. "You're big, what do you expect?" You mumbled, rolling your eyes.

When you were stable, you tried taking another step under Killer's gaze. Again, you failed and your hands flew to his extended arm. He sighed audibly and lifted you up, carrying you like a bride. "What a gentleman." You giggled, your hand wrapping around his neck softly. He didn't reply as he started walking back to his room, obviously attracting stares along the way.

"Killer..." You whimpered, feeling his cock push against your womb, making you see stars. Your back was against the cool wall, seeming to steal the warmth that radiated off of you. "You're tight even when you and the captain go at it everyday..." He grunted, his hips snapping against yours. You would've laughed if you weren't pinned against the wall getting fucked. "Yeah, sorry about that... I know I can get a little, ya know..." You said timidly, a warmth settling on your cheeks after getting called out for being so loud.

"I've always wondered what your lips feel like." You sighed, feeling him stretch you so good. "Not today, (First Name)." He said, biting his lip softly, trying not to let out too much noise, even though you couldn't even hear him. "Come on, Killer. All I've wanted to see was your face the second I joined the crew, and that was years ago, that says something." You said, trying to sound angry, but that was seemingly impossible with a huge cock inside of you.

Killer seemed to stand still in thought, wondering if he could actually show you his face. He didn't hold any negative feelings toward you, but he wasn't sure if he trusted you enough. "And if I do..?" He asked, not moving any longer, his cock deep inside of you. "If you do, then I most definitely think that we would enjoy ourselves much more." You replied, hands squeezing his strong shoulders tightly. He made a sound of disapproval as he pulled out of you again, walking away from you. You barely stood, only with help of a chair next to you were you able to stand.

A confused face took over your gentle features, pondering if you had said or did something wrong. "Damn it, how the fuck did I mess this up so badly..?" You sighed, starting to gather your clothes slowly, silently wishing Killer was here to help you out. It was the least he could do if he didn't want you anymore.

"(First Name), do me a favour." You heard him, he was out of view, for some reason. You hummed, signalling that you heard him. "Close your eyes, just for a little while." He said, his voice coming closer to where you stood. You complied, used to taking orders, especially on a ship where Eustass Kid was captain.

You felt a rougher hand tangle with your soft one, leading you somewhere. You trusted Killer, but you had no clue what he was going to do.

You were stopped for a moment, then brought down onto muscled thighs, your hand still tightly wrapped with Killer's. It took you a moment to realise that you were straddling his thighs, your cheeks adapting a sudden warmth at the intimate pose you two held.

You felt warm lips against yours, your abdomen knotted tightly at the feeling. His tongue softly pushed against your own, his lips tangling within your own in a fierce dance, the two of you seemingly unable to get enough of each other.

Your hand still laced with Killer's, you squeezed it harder unconsciously, feeling your lungs start to burn after not inhaling enough oxygen. Your open hand wandered lower, tracing Killer's strong abs and his beautiful V-line, finally finding his rock hard length, your hand softly pumping it when he released your lips with a groan. 

"Fuck, (First Name)... Just like that..." He whispered, his pants warming your face. His breath smelled of a cool mint, opposing your captains fierce cinnamon scent.

Your eyes were still shut, though you were dying to take a small peek, you were sure he was just as beautiful as the rest of his body.

You continued your ministrations while Killer ravaged your soft lips, his lipstick mixing with yours. Any time while the two of you locked lips, you felt his cock twitch in your hands, obviously wanting to be back inside of your warmth. You subtly raised your hips, lining his cock up with your entrance. Just as you started to lower yourself, Killer thrusted his hips forward, sheathing himself inside of you quickly. You yelled against his lips, separating the two of you.

He would've laughed if he didn't dislike doing so. "You know I can see what you're doing, right?" He asked, his harsh tone of voice seeming to disappear.

"S-Shut your damn mouth..." You whispered, closing your eyes tighter than they already were. You opened your mouth to speak once again, but you were silenced by a pair of lips against yours once again. It was as if he couldn't get enough of you, each kiss was like air to him, his lungs burning like a fire until your cool lips met with his scorching ones. It was weird how you were the one who wanted to kiss him so bad, but he was the one who kept initiating it.

He pulled back from you, leaving your lips slightly agape and stinging, a sensation that was welcomed by you. "You can open your eyes now." He sighed, worried about how you'd react.

Your (eye colour) eyes strained open, the light making it hard to fully open them on command. You squinted, then little by little opened them fully, eyes resting on Killer's tanned chest, your mouth wanting to leave markings on the skin. You just realised that your hand still laid on top of Killer's gently, you muttered a quick apology and looked up at him, your eyes meeting his.

Your mouth hung open slightly, seeing his blonde hair fall into his face perfectly, his long eyelashes tickling his strong cheekbones, his full lips swollen after meeting your own countless times.

"So handsome..." You mumbled, seemingly forgetting that he was still inside of you. You noticed his cheeks get warmer, as you sent him a small smile. 

"Thank you."

He looked at you, confusion written all over his pretty features. "For?" He asked, his now free hand caressing your hips, tracing small shapes with his tall fingers.

"For trusting me... I know we never talk, but I trust you as much as Captain." You sighed, your forehead against his chest. "And well, obviously the other two." You laughed, referring to Heat and Wire.

He didn't know what to say, but he began to feel slightly bad. "Why did you never talk to me, anyway? When I first joined you used to at least make small talk with me, but then it stopped." You said, looking up at him with an undeniable sadness in your eyes. He sighed, averting his stare. "I knew something like this were to happen if I continued to talk to you. When you and Kid became a thing, I had to back off, respect that you were his, or the temptations would overcome me someday." He said, returning his gaze to you.

You hummed, satisfied with the answer. "At least you don't hate me." You said, raising your hips to be able to kiss him again, lips against his own with fierce intent.

"Please fuck me, Killer." You whimpered, unable to take just his stationary cock inside of you any longer. He didn't respond back to you, but began to assist you in moving on top of him, your arms resting against his shoulders as you started to bounce on him, his cock going inside and out with such a lewd sound.

Killer's hands gripped your hips tightly, lifting you onto him easier than if you were doing it alone. "Fuck..." He groaned, feeling your fleshy walls tighten around him, warmth over flooding his entire being.

You felt him push against the spot that nearly induced you into a deep unwanted sleep, letting out a loud moan, unable to form words to tell him to keep hitting that spot.

He knew what angle to go out now, abusing your wet walls with every snap of his hips. He moved his hand lower to circle your clit slowly, hearing you give a wanton whisper of his name fuelled his need to make you finish around him.

You felt your leg twitch as you felt your inevitable release creep up on you. Your moans and whimpers grew to a higher pitch, with a raise of your hips, Killer met your lips against his once again, you never growing tired of the feeling. One more deep thrust inside of you, and you couldn't take it, accidentally screaming into Killer's open lips, you separated from his mouth and whimpered again as you came around him, your arousal dripping down onto his erection and onto the both of your thighs.

He continued to lazily drill into you, filling you to the brim until he was satisfied. He bit his lip as you tightened onto him harshly, almost like not wanting to let go. You moaned his name, feeling sensitive with every move.

"So fucking good." He whispered to himself, getting lost in your soft insides. He too felt release coming sooner than he thought. You were just so good around him, smaller than him and still able to take him better than initially thought.

A few more thrusts and he pulled out, grunting softly as he came on your stomach, thick white ropes of his sticky seed on your naked body.

He got up to bring you a towel, finally feeling the after effects on him, collapsing onto the bed beside you gently. You smiled, your lipstick was slightly smeared and your hair was tousled messily. You cleaned yourself up and laid next to him, locking lips again softly, feeling him being so gentle with you made you feel like you could take him again right then and there.

His eyes were on yours after you backed up from the kiss, a smile on your face as you closed your eyes.

"I could get used to this."

[callmethehunter]

Speedo

I've always wanted to write something based on the beautiful pics of Robert playing soccer in his speedo. So here it goes! I want to thank @brownskinsugarplum76 and @firethatgrewsolow for taking the time to look over certain parts and for giving me their excellent feedback. Hope you enjoy Part 1 of Robert in the infamous speedo.

Part 1

During the summer of 1977, the world’s greatest rock band set up camp on the 9th and 10th floors of the Hyatt Continental Hotel on Sunset Strip. Soon there were tales of wild parties circulating among the groupies and the press. Nothing like sex, drugs, and rock & roll in action to boost magazine sales, thought Robert wryly as he sat up in bed, naked amidst the tousled silk sheets; the comforter in a heap on the floor. A discarded bra hung from the lampshade in the opulent sitting area and the silver buckle of his belt peeped out from under the couch. He spotted the small vial that was on the dresser, got up and walked across the room to retrieve it, his cock swaying heavily with each step. He dipped his long pinky nail into it, scooped the white powder to his nose, and sniffed deeply. There, he thought, that should help me get going!

Feeling a bit more motivated, Robert ordered some tea. As he waited for room service, a wave of apprehension washed over him when he contemplated the six sold out shows that would take place at the Forum starting Tuesday evening. Would they be able to sustain their usual level of energy and intensity for six consecutive nights? he wondered.

Robert decided the best way to get rid of his anxieties was through a game of football, one of his favorite pastimes, second only to love making. Robert reached for the phone to invite his friend and fellow enthusiast, Rod Stewart.

That same morning, on the other side of town, Sandy had her own case of the jitters as she re-calculated her budget for the month. She’d wrestled with the decision to buy a new pair of Riedell Quad Rollers. She was caught up in the fascination with skating which was sweeping the nation. People of all ages were replacing their disco shoes with skates. Celebrities like Cher and Linda Rondstat graced the cover of various magazines, further endorsing the new fad. It wasn’t the traditional figure skating you saw in an indoor rink! This was a new type of roller skating, known as jam skating, that had come out of Venice Beach. Sandy was becoming quite skilled at it, however, having to rent skates every time was an expense she couldn’t afford. Thinking of the joy and freedom that she felt as she jam skated, she’d decided to splurge, paying $200 for the quad rollers with the blue wheels. The purchase essentially wiped her out for the rest of the month. But she was OK with that. Buying the skates was well worth the sacrifice of eating bologna sandwiches for the next two weeks straight.

Sandy pulled her favorite rainbow- colored tube socks up her shapely brown calves and laced up the leather Riedells before she left to meet up with her friends at Balboa park. Rolling past the pedestrians on the boardwalk, she looked up at the blue sunny skies on that Saturday morning. The air felt crisp and invigorating as she sped up the pace. She was running late, as usual, and hoped her friends had been able to claim their favorite courts.

Sandy always enjoyed the tennis court’s expanse of asphalt which provided the perfect surface for roller skating. But even better than that, it didn't cost anything. There had been a few skirmishes over territory between the preppies that showed up to play tennis and her long haired skater friends. Since there were only four courts available, it was sometimes the urban version of survival of the fittest, with two separate species vying for limited resources.

As she skated past the soccer fields, she noticed that despite it being early, there was already a fierce match underway. Her eyes were instantly drawn to a tall, athletic figure clad in a yellow jersey and little else. Instinctively, she slowed down, the better to take in the scene.

And what a scene it was! As she got closer, she confirmed that the man was indeed wearing only a speedo that clung to every inch. He had a veritable, mane of thick, golden curls that cascaded around his face as he ran up and down the length of the field.

Something about him seemed so familiar, she thought. She came to a stop by a bench, sat down and pretended to adjust her laces. Behind her dark sunglasses, she surreptitiously studied the blonde as he pranced around, his arms extended with hands clenched as if to remind himself to not handle the ball.

Even at a distance, there was no mistaking the sizable bulge between his toned thighs. Instinctively, she licked her lips as her eyes lingered. The speedo’s green and gold stripes converged at his crotch, drawing her eyes to his overabundant manhood. The long golden curls trailed behind him as he dribbled the ball with muscular tanned legs. When he turned to survey the situation downfield, she was finally able to get a good look at his face: blue eyes, dimples and a chiseled chin. She had the feeling that she’d seen him before!. …Oh my God! could it be...? Her heart skipped a beat and she almost leapt off the bench in surprise and disbelief as her initial impression gave way to absolute certainty. That was definitely none other than Robert Plant.

[lazarettta]

Misthios VII

Pairing (Mother Miranda x Spartan!Reader)

Rating (M)

Word Count (4.6k)

Warning (probably language right now)

You and Miranda are finally moving on to having that long chat that's separated you both for centuries.

The Queen's eyes fluttered open, finally waking with the morning rays of the sun peaking over the mountain. Her balcony doors were wide open to let the cool night breeze into her personal chambers while the two fireplaces burned well into the night. It was a combination of warm and cool that her majesty enjoyed greatly as it helped her with sleep.

Of course, sharing her bed with you also aided with her troubles with sleep for the past few months since your arrival to the region. Wonderful in all the ways she could never have imagined; a warrior and a lover, the two things that made her life easier—and the lives of her enemies that much worse.

It had been well past dinner time when you returned to the castle along with the squadron of soldiers you'd gone with including a Captain of the military who was leading the raid. Part of your armor had been slashed and torn, stained with blood and whatever else you encountered outside of the castle walls.

But when Miranda stood in the doorway of her private bath watching as you stripped of your amour—she witnessed no open wounds for her to tend to or fret over, but blood stained your skin anyway. Even though she knew that she should have the moment she noticed: Miranda never questioned why you'd always have a new scar every other day or why your shirts had the evidence of a stab wound taking place right above your hip, including a blood stain, but all you could do was smile when asked about it.

“ Is everything alright, your majesty?”

Miranda blinked, her mind coming back to reality now finding herself sitting up in her bed currently being blinded by the morning sun. The Queen sighed heavily, looking down at your sleeping form—as always you were on your back with one arm tucked beneath one of the pillows behind your head and the other was being used as Miranda's pillow for most of the night. As always.

Like herself, you were bare as the day you were born...your entire torso shamelessly revealed for her roaming insatiable eyes...and she smirked when a particularly cool breeze swept through the room. She watched the goosebumps rise under your exposed skin, including your nipples making Miranda hum softly.

“ Y-your majesty?”

Miranda, suddenly remembering just what, or rather who, had bothered her before and looked towards the girl, pleased when she saw that her eyes were on the floor.

“ Everything is more than alright, girl, however you may leave... I'll be out shortly.”

A hand curling around her waist brought Miranda's gaze from the closing double doors where the meek girl disappeared through and back to you. Your eyes were still closed but you were starting to wake up, stretching like a feline and again Miranda's eyes were drawn to your chest.

“ Carved by the Gods,” she mumbled, the tips of her nails tracing your firm abdomen with no particular pattern, simply enjoying the light marks she was leaving behind around your belly button, knowing how much you enjoyed when she did that as well.

You saw the thoughtful look on Miranda's face when you opened your eyes but you couldn't stop the giant yawn from escaping, “Morning,”

Miranda smiled down at you, enjoying the way the sun made your skin glow but you weren't fooled by that smile—you were used to Miranda's smiles and this was one of her worries. The sort of smile where she wanted to reassure you while scolding you at the same time. You pulled away slightly, and sat up a bit so you could give her your full attention. When the monarch remained silent, simply staring at you, all you could do was raise an eyebrow...waiting.

Miranda scoffed at the action, shaking her head, “It's ironic isn't it, how we the others tales...but we do not truly know each other, do we?”

You shrugged, smirking at her—refusing to hint at the nerves beginning to crawl up your spine, “Pretty sure we know each other inside and out, your highness.”

Miranda gave you a look, clearly unimpressed, “Yes, beneath that charm and nonchalance...is something quite fascinating, isn't there? And...it seems that your truth only comes to light during battle.”

“ Pardon?” you sat up a little more now, eyebrows furrowed—unsure where Miranda was going with this but you no doubt that it probably wasn't going to be good for you. Especially since you're naked and vulnerable but not defenseless.

“ Captain Ake came to me last night after I left you to your bath, he seemed quite concerned with something...and quite frankly, I'm curious myself.” Miranda's hand had stopped tracing patterns on your stomach, but her hand still lingered...and the moment her index finger traced over the raised skin right next to your belly button, the brand new one, you knew you fucked up.

“ About what?” You mumbled not daring to look down at her hand, and her eyes burned into yours—playing dumb would only get you so far—probably the dungeons if you were lucky. You knew exactly what Ake was concerned with though you weren't sure if he actually saw you take a sword through your gut as it was so dark and everything happened within a blink or two.

“ What I am going to say next may sound crazy, however, Captain Ake is one of my most loyal subject in this castle, and quite sane...he claims to have witnessed you being impaled,” Miranda exhaled slowly, “By the enemy...and somehow managed to walk away from it, unharmed. Would you mind telling me what happened, my dear?”

You stared at her for a second, “And...you believed him? Could I have really been stabbed by a sword and do what I did last night? Do you know how insane you sound?”

“ Watch your tongue! You're still addressing your Queen, warrior.”

“ I'm sorry, but you seriously don't believe that shit do you?”

“ I've been noticing a few things myself, (Y/n)...and I would really like some answers myself.”

“ Right. I'll take that as my signal to leave, your majesty. Thanks for letting me sleep here last night.”

Miranda's eyes narrowed slightly, reaching out to grab your wrist to prevent you from running from her, “(Y/n), do not run from me...I'm only trying to understand! You can trust me, this I promise you, I'm not going to hurt you.”

You wanted to believe her, but you had to learn the hard way that trust was nothing but a word—a word that can be broken over and over. You were too stupid to learn in the past but you weren't about to do the same thing now. Pushing the covers aside you threw some mundane excuse over your shoulder but before you could actually get to the edge of the bed, you were pulled back and pushed back into your previous position. It didn't actually hurt but it wasn't gentle either but you were pretty sure that it was Miranda that moved you, but you hadn't actually felt or seen her move a muscle.

“ W...how? Miranda?!”

Miranda smiled shyly at your bewildered expression—a very rare expression from the Queen but like yourself, she was feeling quite vulnerable, “You're not alone, (Y/n)...and neither am I.”

“ Neither....are you?” Miranda chuckled at your expression and your inability to put two and two together. When you tried to sit back up, Miranda's shy smile morphed into something more amused and predatory because you realized that you couldn't move—and Miranda still hadn't moved an inch.

“ Ah, now do I have your full attention?”

The closer you got to Miranda's home the more treacherous the path became and you'd lost sight of the woman flying low above the trees ten minutes ago—or what you thought to be ten minutes, you weren't sure. Your eyes were glued to the ground, keeping a firm but relaxed grip on the reign of your stallion, Bruce, whispering gently to him. Alcina called him a gentle giant and she wasn't exaggerating. The path was narrow and very unkempt but you wouldn't expect Miranda to make things easy, especially access to her private home.

There was a point that you weren't even sure you and Bruce were actually going to make it across but there was no way you could've turned the massive horse around either, forward was the only way and you weren't ashamed to admit that your heart was pounding hard enough to crack bones. The moment you cleared the trees, Miranda's home finally came into view—and you were not disappointed. It was a simple two story cabin practically etched into the mountain and you wanted to know how the hell she managed to get this place on the sliver of rock.

You'd brought Bruce to a stop just as Miranda appeared and landed gracefully on her porch even with her heels on (you caught a glimpse of them earlier when she started flying). From her porch alone, Miranda had a perfect view of everything . The village, the manor sitting on the waterfall, the factory and of course the castle. There was a light blanket of fog obscuring most of the view, but it was still breathtaking all the same.

You dismounted Bruce easily, gently guiding him to the post next to Miranda's porch. You fed him a few sugar cubes, gingerly untangling part of his dark mane and pulling free a few twigs and leaves.

“Further up the path I have there's a stable for him, we can take him later.”

You turned to look at Miranda, finding her standing in the door looking at you, her expression unreadable and you were too tired to try and decipher it. You double checked the post before steeling your nerves and joining her on her porch, it was roomier than it actually looked and you spotted a hammock on the other corner—not the usual netted sort, it looked like a quilt and quite comfortable too.

You followed Miranda inside, shutting out the cold—the interior of Miranda's home had you stock still at the front door with your hand still on the door knob. The space was open, having the living room and the eating area open with no barrier, and you could easily see the kitchen from where you stood. It was...cozy and warm.

“Surprised?” Miranda's voice brought your eyes to where she was, now half way up the stairs behind the kitchen wall, she wore a soft smile, the front of her robes already opened (you didn't even realize the fucking thing even had a zipper), revealing the slacks and blouse she wore underneath, “Did you expect me to live in a cave?”

“I expected you to at least have a TV.”

Miranda smirked but it didn't reach her eyes, “Are you going to stand there bitching about the lack of media corruption or do you want that shower?”

Your hand finally relaxed off of the door knob, the light throbbing resulting in just how hard you were holding the poor thing. You kicked off your boots at the door—they were covered in mud, snow and probably horse shit at some point, they were filthy. And the last thing you wanted to do was dirty up Miranda's wood floors.

She waited until you were on the stairs to continue up herself while slipping her robe from her shoulders and casually throwing it over her arm as if it were just a towel. “There are only three rooms on this floor. My own, the guest room and the bathroom.”

You raised an eyebrow, “One bathroom?”

“I don't exactly keep guests, dear.”

“So then why the extra bedroom?” you were being a shit, you knew it, but you couldn't help it—Miranda made it easy for you to tease her sometimes (all the time). You wanted to be more bothered over how easy it was for you to fall back into old habits with this woman.

“The longer you stand there being an idiot, the colder your water gets.”

You raised your hands slightly, moving past her towards the door she pointed to, flipping on the light—it was roomier than you expected it to be, dark and a bit modern but Miranda somehow still managed to keep it grand and medieval. The floor was made of stone, there was a grand shower with a curved glass door and next to it was a bear claw of a tub, melded into the floor like it was a hot spring. Across the floor was a single sink and a mirror, and next to it a door where you assumed you'd find the towels and toiletries. Just past the tub, was the toilet though there was a half wall there to offer some privacy and you spotted your backpack sitting on top of it neatly and that finally gave you pause.

“Figured you didn't want to walk around naked or wearing any of my clothes.”

You hadn't even noticed that you had actually walked into the bathroom, admiring it's simple yet beautiful décor or that Miranda followed you in until the shower sprung to life next to you.

She smiled at you apologetically, not having meant to startle you—but seeing you so easily bothered helped put her at ease. Miranda was good at hiding it, but she was quite nervous. Having you so near and so far from her at the same time in the comfort of her own home, her sanctuary—none of the other Lord's knew where she lived, they probably thought she lived in a cave or a nest or something. You were Miranda's first house guest since she arrived in this village.

She closed the shower door, watching you open your backpack—checking through it, and she couldn't stop the small smile from forming after you smirked, realizing that you were still without your weapons. But you didn't make a comment on it, instead beginning to pull out the things that you needed—until you realized that she was still in the room as well.

You raised an eyebrow at Miranda, and her smile only grew but the blonde simply shrugged her wings and tucked her wings tighter to her back as she exited the room, “I'll be downstairs when you're finished...”

“Miranda—”

She paused and you froze, fuck, why did you do that? You hadn't meant to call out to her, but your mouth was faster than your brain sometimes and now she was looking at you expectantly and all you could do was stare at her like a jackass. There was so much, too much, that you wanted to say but where could you even start? Why were you getting this courage in the fucking bathroom of all places?

“Downstairs.” She reminded you gently when the silence stretched too long—you had panicked and she saw that, and instead of jumping on you like the predator you knew that she was fully capable of being—she left you alone to your thoughts and the hot water steaming the room, calling your name. It was a welcome distraction even if it wouldn't be a forever one.

“Being immortal really is overrated.”

Miranda didn't go downstairs immediately, instead making a beeline for her bedroom and closed the door behind her but left it ajar enough for her to still hear you in the bathroom. Miranda carefully hung up her 'Mother Miranda' robe and began stripping out of the clothes she's been wearing for the past two days along with her rings; finally taking off the crown of Mother and just becoming Miranda with every stitch of clothing she removed from her flawless skin.

Standing naked in front of her full-length mirror, Miranda whispered a delicate but very familiar spell she's known since she was a small child and she winced quietly as her wings folded back into her body for the next six or seven hours. The spell wasn't forever but Miranda often used it when she was home to avoid breaking her things as she often did if she let her wings remain as they were, they often got restless if she stayed home and still too long so she just opted for putting them away to save herself the trouble. And money.

When the last two smaller ones on her lower back finally retreated into her skin, Miranda rolled her shoulders to pop out the kinks. She got dressed in a pair of washed out pants and a v-neck shirt, and at the last minute Miranda threw on her dark wool cardigan before heading back downstairs but not before pausing outside of the bathroom door. She heard you humming over the shower and though she didn't recognize the song, it still made her smile.

Suddenly feeling like a creeper, Miranda moved away from the door and went downstairs to start on the coffee she was craving earlier. She got her fireplace going but that all took less than ten minutes and now she found herself back in her kitchen, pulling ingredients from her refrigerator to give her something to do besides fret.

“ You shouldn't be so comfortable with your champion, in public.” Fritjof complained for the thousandth time in her ear—he was one of her primary advisors, having been employed by her late husband, the former King. He was always a bit of an annoyance, but he often proved himself useful and unwittingly saved his own life time to time from Miranda's ire.

“ I was only congratulating her on another victorious raid on a neighboring kingdom that thought it wise to steal from us, or have you forgotten that little fact, Fritjof?”

He frowned, not liking her tone but he quickly corrected his features knowing that they were still in the halls on their way to the Queen's study, but there were still eyes on them, “I...yes, but it sends the wrong message when you send a blood wolf to handle this kingdoms affairs instead of your loyal officers! You make us all look weak!”

Miranda stopped walking, and whirled around on Fritjof, her coat wrapping around her leather clad legs as she did so, and the frail man jumped back a step, knowing that he overstepped a line severely, “A-apologies—”

“ You will apologize with your tongue!” Miranda hissed, “Though I'm sure (Y/n) would rather have your head for all the times you've questioned her loyalty to this kingdom! We're coming up on eight years, Fritjof, and (Y/n) has helped this kingdom prosper more than you ever could've in your twenty years with my late husband.” Miranda sneered dangerously, edging closer to him and the terrified man could only back up into the table, knocking over a vase but Miranda paid it no mind, “One more word about this and I will have you removed. Permanently.”

Fritjof swallowed harshly, beads of sweat forming at his hairline and rolling down his face, and Miranda's sneer deepened in disgust, “Please, your highness, I'm only looking out for the future of the kingdom! It—it needs an heir and a King! The other kingdoms will never recognize your power without either—” his words were cut off when Miranda struck him down, a single line of blood staining a portrait on the wall behind him. Miranda struck faster than he could react and Fritjof cried out in pain, alerting the guards who came running but stopped when they saw their Sovereign standing over the slimy advisor holding part of his face, blood starting to seep through his fingers.

“ For every brilliant woman, there's always a stupid man thing to be found.” Miranda stepped over his pathetic body and continued on her way, rolling her shoulders back when her back began to twinge in response to her high and irritated emotions, and she needed release. “Get him out of my sight and find my champion; send her to me when you do.”

“ Yes, my Queen.” They both replied, one of them roughly hauling Fritjof to his feet and pushing him forward, but not before the man could cast one last glance at Miranda's retreating back until he was shoved forward. “Move!”

The cabin was filled with the aroma of sweet bread and coffee and your stomach was growling something vicious halfway down the stairs after you put your back in the guest room. Miranda had her back to you and you took the moment to stop at the bottom of the stairs to just observe her. The very first thing you noticed was that her wings were gone and she was more relaxed—it probably had a lot to do with her being in her own home, and it was starting to make more sense why she wanted to be in the comfort of her own home for this conversation. Though her argument for privacy was valid as well.

Your eyes flickered around the open space, spotting something tucked in the corner of the living room and scoffed without meaning to and alerting Miranda of your presence, if she wasn't already. She turned from her task of fixing you both something to eat to watch you walk across the room to where the object of your interest lay with a carefully crafted expression.

“Didn't take you for owning a rifle.”

“It's ten years old, I believe.” Miranda hummed quietly, dusting off her hands before taking down a couple of plates from the cabinet above the stove. You looked at her when she didn't elaborate, really curious now.

“It's in pretty good condition, really beautiful...where did you get it?” you checked the clip and saw that there were exactly ten rounds in there. When Miranda didn't answer you immediately, you found her watching you.

“It's not mine.” Miranda set the plates at the small eating table that could easily seat two other people, “I took it from a witch hunter as he was so kind to come all this way to visit. He tried to kill me in my sleep like a coward. He intrudes upon my home and couldn't be bothered to give me an honorable death. The audacity of men certainly hasn't changed over the years.”

Her tone was not lost on you and you knew that the witch hunter was long dead. You traced the steel design grip, impressed at the detail—and distracted.

“Oh, so now you hate men?” Ah... and once again your mouth was faster than your brain could process, and just like that her eyes were on your back—you felt it.

“I've always hated men, (Y/n). I...” she sighed harshly, her eyes turning into a glare, “Stop doing that, you don't have the entire story so if you're done being an ass and running from this conversation—I would really like to clear the air between us so we can move on from this.”

“You mean your truth that you want me to hear so badly?” You chuckled though it lacked any amusement. You set the rifle down, finally giving her your full attention then sighed heavily—a sudden exhaustion falling over you, “Would it really matter at this point, Miranda? It happened centuries ago...we both moved on, why do you want to drudge this back up?”

“Why don't you?” Miranda moved around the table, the coffee and snack forgotten in the moment, but she didn't try to approach you, “I'm not the only one who was in the wrong, (Y/n).”

“Do you think I cared about your status when I found out the woman I loved married a man behind my back and didn't even fucking tell me! I had to find out in the middle of that stupid ball you wanted to throw so bad after we invaded those rebellion villages. I gave you everything and you betrayed me . I crossed lines for you, Miranda. I thought that would warrant enough decency to be honest with me. I-”

You stopped, your face was hot and you exhaled heavily—doing your best not to sniffle, you hated that you were the type to fucking cry when your emotions bubbled to the surface too fast. Especially when the topic is something you've buried long deep in the dark corners of your mind with no hope for daylight again. You just never thought you'd bump into your past like this. And it's been years since you've had to deal with anything on a personal level after your last child passed away fifty years ago at the tender age of eighty-six.

Miranda saw the emotions playing across your face with a frown but otherwise her own emotions were carefully hidden, she was always better at that than you were, and inched closer, “(Y/n)...”

“We've both obviously lived with this hurt and came out fine,” you cut her off, not looking at her but instead at your bare toes with your hands back in your pockets, “What's closure gonna do besides bring up old hurt?”

“No, that's not it at all, I just...” Miranda coughed lightly and cleared her throat,—your question was valid as she's asked herself this many times before, asking herself why she didn't just let you go in the forest—she could've let you go and saved you both from this reopened wound. But she didn't because she couldn't and Miranda wouldn't apologize for it. Because she's always been a selfish woman, and one of her most selfish needs—even when she first laid eyes on you—she knew that you were hers. That never changed, time could never take that away from her.

“This life is long and lonely, (Y/n)...and I've made many mistakes, most I will never have a chance to atone for...and when I saw you,” Miranda looked into your eyes and bit her bottom lip, you weren't even looking at her anymore, “I've lost so much in this life, and I refused to lose you a second time. The first time I was...I was corrupted with greed and power, but I was stupid and it cost me everything too, (Y/n).”

You looked up, surprised by her words, “He took your kingdom from you, didn't he?”

“ You!” Miranda moved closer, though you hardly noticed because you were focused on her eyes that were duller than they were down in the village but just as clear, bright and brimming with tears, “He took you from me. He took us away from each other, (Y/n). I'm not innocent in it either, I...I could've done something about it, but I didn't and it was the biggest mistake I could've made in my entire existence. And I think about it more than I care to admit, I think about you...wondering what sort of life we could've shared together had I made better choices. I'm...I'm sorry, (Y/n).”

Miranda was close enough to touch you now, and this time she didn't hesitate nor did you pull away when both of her hands cupped your cheeks, making you shiver. “Miranda...”

Miranda's hands tightened on your face, obviously thinking you were about to argue again but you were tired of arguing with her, over this...before she could speak, you took Miranda by surprise and pulled her into a tight embrace, both of your arms around her waist and you caught her when her entire body sagged in your arms. You had no idea what was going to happen after this, but that little piece of you that longed for the closure you never got...began to grow.

“I'll stay.”

[rebrandedbard]

A Bard He Would A-Wooing Go (6858 words)

Gift for @valdomarx: some good old mutual pining morons. In which Jaskier courts Geralt and Geralt is oblivious. Ao3 link in title.

Jaskier wrote a song like counting; Counting the years, the steps, until one day he might count the seconds and centimeters of distance that seemed to stretch like oceans between them. Each of them were like marks on a calendar, an entry in a diary to mark the progress. At first, he hid his true intentions behind false names and romantic figures, crafting beautiful damsels for the recipients of his verses in the time when he was still uncertain, but when the depth of his love became apparent to himself, he decided the day had come to be more overt.

He sang of a beautiful man with hair kissed by moonlight, eyes of amber still hollowed with the liquid golden honey left to flow inside. This he played by the evening fire, casting shy glances at Geralt over the flames. “Do you like my new song?” he asked.

“You inflate my image enough already,” Geralt replied in his usual gruff manner. The idea was to make him a hero of monster-slaying, not the heroine of some romance. Jaskier’s verses were too pretty and flattering, bound to be laughed at by the public. Moonlight and honey—such descriptions were wasted on witchers.

Jaskier frowned and played the second verse a little louder, ignoring his response. “I would rather sing it below a balcony; perhaps the artistry of the setting would help better mold your opinion.” He took on a faraway, doe-eyed expression as he spoke, strumming the gentle melody. “I would weave a crown of clover and present it to you. Yes, I think that would suit you fine. You’d cut a majestic figure, lighted by the stars. I would pluck one from the heavens and offer it to you so that it might sit atop your head, the very jewel of the crown, so that all might better see how brightly you shine.”

“Your songs do enough as it is. No need to crown me,” Geralt scoffed. He was not some divine hero. He was a witcher working for pay, and it was crude work. “You romanticize everything too much.”

“Oh, what would you know of it? You haven’t got a romantic bone in your body.”

“First true thing you’ve said tonight.”

“The honey was more than true,” Jaskier huffed. He played the verse again, then stopped, something new glittering in his eye. It was an idea, Geralt recognized. He was far too familiar with that expression by now to mistake it, and he knew there would be a long, terrible enterprise awaiting him. Jaskier started to smile, and he took to his feet.

“Geralt of Rivia!” he proclaimed. “I’ve decided that this will not do. A simple song is not enough! Let it now be known that it is my intention, henceforth, to court you with all the trim, all the pomp, all the circumstance and bells and whistles! You must know the pleasures of romance in their many forms, and I will leave no stone unturned, no mountain unclimbed, until you have been thoroughly romanced!”

Geralt groaned and closed his eyes. He was not interested in a study of human courtship. He was especially uninterested in receiving such lessons from Jaskier of all people. Yet he knew there was no refusing once Jaskier set his mind to anything. Whether he wanted to or not, whatever protests he’d make, Jaskier would not be denied. The bastard would dig in his heels and get his way, and this—it was this game of his that would at last be the thing to kill Geralt. This farce would not be something Geralt’s heart would survive in one piece. He retired early, hoping the declaration would be forgotten in the morning if he gave no reaction. The slightest acknowledgement was all the encouragement Jaskier needed.

The next day, to his surprise, Jaskier was the first awake. He’d gone wandering in the woods before sunrise and returned with his arms laden with flowers. Geralt had awoken to the smell of the bouquet waved under his nose.

“Good morning, my dear witcher,” Jaskier said, grinning ear to ear. “Welcome to the first morning of the rest of your life! A humble offering, still wet with sweet morning dew.” He bobbed and placed the bouquet in Geralt’s hands with finesse before bounding over to relight the fire and begin their breakfast. To Geralt’s even greater surprise, there were five fish speared in the dirt beside it. Jaskier had gone fishing, it seemed. Flowers, fish—would there be a third gesture awaiting him so early in the morning? Or perhaps being first up was the gesture itself. Jaskier was not an early riser by any measure. Geralt might as well still be asleep as unbelievable as it was.

“So, you were serious about that courting thing,” Geralt said.

Jaskier waved his flints in the air dramatically. “Perfectly serious. Honestly, Geralt, you must have known this day would come.”

And Geralt had to admit, after several days spent with Jaskier giving lessons detailing the etiquette of the high courts, the more fashionable dances of the season, a history of the textile arts in which he explained how his doublets were made from the harvest of the fibers all the way through decorative pleating, and the proper forms of address for peers in no less than seven countries … yes, Geralt ought to have known that courting customs were next on the list of useless trivia Jaskier meant to impart.

At first, there was not much fuss and they were able to get on as usual. Geralt didn’t know what he expected in regards to a courtship from Jaskier, but what little thought he’d given the subject conjured images of endless smothering, Jaskier waxing poetic, arms waving dramatically, attaching himself at the hip of his hapless, adoring victim. But perhaps courtship was a one-a-day expression and that would be all until tomorrow.

He was wrong in multiple ways. Jaskier did not leap upon him with some obnoxious peacocking gesture, but he took it upon himself to pack camp after breakfast. Geralt watched him shuffle about, humming quietly. Jaskier had insisted Geralt stay out of the matter and sent him off to ready Roach. Camp packed, Jaskier tied their things to her saddle, and Geralt notice that he’d been careful to arrange the bags just as he himself might, the weight evenly distributed, potion bag furthest in front in easy reach, the rest in the order in which they’d need unpacking come evening. It was observant to say the least. Such a little thing, really, but Geralt was impressed.

“Ready?” Jaskier asked, offering Geralt his hand.

Geralt looked curiously at it, not sure what it was meant for. Jaskier was looking at him expectantly, and for an absurd moment, Geralt thought he wanted a tip like the men who kept Roach tended to in stables in town. At a loss, he shook Jaskier’s hand and turned to hook his foot in the stirrup. He startled when Jaskier took his hand again and helped him up over the side.

It was ridiculous. Geralt needed no help mounting. Yet … something about the action stuck with Geralt. It had been brief, but the way Jaskier had looked up at him as he held his hand, he looked almost as if he’d been about to kiss it.

Geralt wished he would.

After a while of travelling in companionable silence, Geralt inched his head to the side. He looked at Jaskier from the corner of his eye and asked, “What are your plans for this?” wondering just how well Jaskier had thought this silly game through.

“The courtship? Oh, flowers, sweets, dancing—the usual,” Jaskier replied with a careless wave of his hand. He played so casual, and yet Geralt saw the mischievous quirk of his lips. There was more. Jaskier was a great lover of surprises, both in giving and receiving.

Jaskier fiddled with one of his lute strings, running his nail up and down its length shyly. “I’m surprised you’ve accepted it without quarrel,” he said. “Thrilled, really. Not to imply that I’m blind to your reservations; I know how you must feel about the idea of formal courtship: a lot of fluff and unnecessary nonsense. But this is how I express my love, and it means a great deal to me that you would allow me to share the experience with you.”

“It’s not such a great burden,” Geralt replied, offering a light shrug.

Jaskier laughed. “No, indeed, I shouldn’t think so! It’s a gift—the greatest gift of all.”

Geralt snorted and argued that a new set of armour would be a much greater gift.

“Ever the pragmatist,” Jaskier sighed, smacking Geralt’s boot with a smile.

When they stopped for lunch, Jaskier offered his hand once more to help Geralt dismount. After eating, Geralt put his gloves quietly away in one of the bags, muttering to himself that is was a warm day, as if Jaskier might notice and wonder. And though the air had a leftover chill of early spring, when the time came to ride off again, his hand felt hot in Jaskier’s. Geralt soon forgot his gloves entirely, had misplaced them quite carelessly among his bags or on the road. But Jaskier never commented on their absence.

In addition to the attentions Jaskier lavished upon Geralt, Roach benefitted from a surge in care. Jaskier brushed her coat nearly every other day, and it was shinier than ever before. He braided wildflowers in her mane, styled each morning length by length. Afterwards, he would brush Geralt’s hair, braiding it to match. It was the most preposterous thing, and yet Geralt could not help feeling a silly sort of happiness. Jaskier had been feeling much bolder since the first day, and had even allowed himself to put flowers in Geralt’s braids. Geralt would wake to find them on his bedroll in the morning—Jaskier wasn’t as sneaky as he liked to imagine.

It was new, Jaskier brushing Geralt’s hair this way. He might comb Geralt’s hair after a bath or wrestle a brush through it when it had begun to resemble a feral rat’s nest, but now it was more regularly maintained. There was no excuse of necessity. Geralt could close his eyes and enjoy the moment, Jaskier’s gentle hands at work, sometimes simply scratching his scalp, the brush abandoned for minutes at a time. It was such a tender gesture, Geralt at times forgot that it was nothing more than a demonstration.

But oh, Jaskier went to such lengths so teach! He had Roach re-shoed in the city with fine new horseshoes, claiming that the shoes would clip and clop and ring out the song of his heart on every cobblestone, and that the gait of her stride itself would be a reminder of his devotion. And truly, as they walked her to the stables afterwards, Geralt heard their cheerful mocking with each step, “It’s all a game! It’s all a game!” He was glad to give her the day off to rest, and to avoid the clippity-clop of her bright new shoes.

Geralt tried to be objective. When they spent the evening at a tavern, listening to a local bard perform, he did not allow his thoughts to linger on the hand resting over his on the bench. Nor did he read into things when Jaskier asked him to dance. Dancing—the usual. It was one of the most basic aspects of courtship.

When they spun in and out of the formation on the dance floor, when Jaskier entwined their fingers, when Jaskier pulled them close together, Geralt tried in vain to blame his dizziness on the spinning steps. When someone tried to cut in for a quick romp with Jaskier, only for Jaskier to snatch Geralt’s waist again in rejection of the advance, Geralt did not let his thoughts linger on how pretty the young woman had been and how well Jaskier might look dancing with her, nor the thrill he’d felt in that instance of being so firmly chosen against such an enticing offer.

Though there were contracts to be fulfilled, Jaskier found ways to steal Geralt away for an hour or two here and there and between. He’d dragged Geralt along to see a play: something very modern and poetic. They paid for standing admission, the cheapest and, according to Jaskier, the very best way to appreciate the art up close. They talked throughout, joking with the other patrons and laughing at the worst bits in near-vicious mockery. Evidently, that was the only way to enjoy anything so poorly critiqued, and a step above throwing rotten fruit. He bought them a little parcel of candied nuts, and now and then they flicked a nut at the very worst actor for having every other line fed to him from offstage. They came away laughing with not a single guess as to what the play itself had been about.

The next week they were on the road again, and things were quieter. The city provided so many forms of entertainment, but Geralt liked it best when it was only the two of them, nestled in the calm of nature. Jaskier was lively, and the environment affected his mood. Out in the woods, his gestures were sweeter, smaller, and sentimental. Geralt enjoyed this gentler aspect of Jaskier’s courtship, for his method changed between the city and the road.

Away from the excitement and bustle, Jaskier expressed himself more subtly. As if by magic, ingredients for Geralt’s potion stock would be replenished after one of Jaskier’s morning walks. He did not make grand declarations or even show any signs of wishing to be acknowledged for the little things he did. He simply did them, waiting to catch Geralt’s smile.

“Here,” Jaskier said, tossing a coiled bit of leather at Geralt. It was a braided strap of cord, burnt black over the fire. “In your favorite gloomy color,” he teased. “Your old tie is a twist from falling apart; I thought you might like a new one to tie back your hair.”

Geralt smiled, and he was sure he’d begun to build muscle in his cheeks from how often that had happened now. He admired the tie, running his thumb over the pattern. Cautiously, he edged closer to Jaskier and handed it back to him. He turned around, offering Jaskier his back and whispered, “Would you fix it for me?”

At once, Jaskier’s hands were in his hair, swapping out the old tie for the new. When Geralt turned back around, Jaskier had the old tie fasted to his wrist, looking down at it with a gentle smile. His eyes flickered back up to Geralt, and that same shy expression softened his features from that day when he’d presented his new song. A new shine glinted in his eyes, a fresh spark that danced in the firelight. Geralt’s words of thanks died on his tongue at the sight of it. His eyes roamed Jaskier’s face, taking in the warmth of his gaze.

So loving. So deceptively close to genuine. What a fantastic actor Jaskier would make, Geralt thought. He even smelled happy. Like … vanilla. He leaned closer, breathing it in. By now he’d forgotten the smile in Jaskier’s eyes, forgot how long he’d ceased to study it. Now he’d been distracted by the smile on his lips, taking in their color, the shape of them. He wanted a better look. If he touched them, perhaps he’d learn what made them turn up the way they did—might know how much of their warmth was owed to the fire, how much was owed to Jaskier. He thought they’d come nearer now, and he could just make out the small lines in them. The scent of vanilla was stronger, sweeter, and he felt the touch of Jaskier’s hand brush his cheek.

Jaskier’s hands rose, curling back around his neck as he leaned forward. Geralt blinked rapidly, tilting his head a fraction to the side. His slow heart fluttered to life in his chest. Often he’d imagined what it might be like to be in this very moment. Once, he’d even had the pleasure of dreaming it, but living it was more unbelievable. That Jaskier might kiss him was unfathomable, yet he was here, his hands reaching out, his lips parting, the nearness of him overwhelming and gloriously true. Geralt had nearly closed his eyes when he felt a slight tug on his hair.

“There,” Jaskier said with satisfaction, pulling away. “It was a bit crooked.”

His hair. Jaskier had leaned forward to … to fix his hair.

Jaskier was up now, walking toward their bags. The wind of the motion sent a chill through Geralt and he slumped forward, feeling suddenly cold. He’d been on the flat of a mountain once, standing at the edge of a cliff, all the wide world below him. Looking down, he’d felt as if the world might swallow him up. The sky above was so clear, devoid of even clouds, and he felt he might fall into it if only to relieve the endless void. That was how Jaskier’s absence felt. The wind which had commanded the mountainside was but a puff of air compared to the waft of air left in Jaskier’s wake. Geralt turned like a dying flower turns toward the sun, longing after him.

The bedroll was made smooth beneath Jaskier’s attentive hands as he went about preparing to retire. Geralt sighed and watched, trying to remind himself again that he was reading too much between lines that were unwritten: lines like bars in a cell. His infatuation was unfounded, and this scheme of Jaskier’s to educate Geralt in the ways of courting was only fuel to the fire. What a pointless endeavour. When would Geralt ever use this knowledge? To aid Jaskier as he pursued his fancy of the month? To himself win the heart of some stranger?

Jaskier bowed playfully and motioned to the bedroll. “Your chariot awaits to carry you off into Slumberland, sweet prince of the night,” he announced. He held a blanket in his hands, his boots and doublet set by his pack. With a flourish he rose and waited for Geralt expectantly.

Geralt obediently removed his boots and crawled onto the bedding. Best to sleep and let the moment be forgotten by morning, start over with another day. He turned on his back, waited for Jaskier to cover him with the blanket, to finish his joke and set up his own roll to sleep. Instead, he found Jaskier flopped at his side, his arm flung over his chest, and the blanket wrapped around the two of them snugly.

“Goodnight, Geralt,” Jaskier whispered. His breath puffed against Geralt’s neck as Jaskier cuddled closer, hooking an ankle over Geralt’s leg. He settled comfortably on Geralt’s shoulder and closed his eyes, the most contented smile on his face. Geralt could hear his heartbeat slow down, even and rhythmic, lulling.

After some time, Geralt thought he’d gone to sleep. He cautiously shifted, rolling on his side to face him. Jaskier had long eyelashes, he discovered. This close, Geralt could see a number of faint freckles on his cheeks, the subtle wrinkles about his eyes. He rarely allowed himself to look when they were together at night, but lately that had become a temptation hard to resist. He looked now while he might steal a private minute or two without fear. There was one little hair poking out from Jaskier’s nose and Geralt chuckled to know how bothered Jaskier would be when he noticed it eventually. He reached a tentative hand out, resting it on the loose fabric of Jaskier’s chemise where it lay on the roll, too cowardly to reach out and touch Jaskier in spite of the arm Jaskier had around him. That alone was enough. That already was daring.

Geralt slowly closed his eyes, trying to lock away the memory of the moment. He opened them again for one last look as the fire died down. Jaskier seemed to shine in the afterglow and Geralt closed his eyes again so that he might trap the afterimage in the dark. Then, Jaskier shifted and there was a warmth pressed to Geralt’s forehead. A kiss goodnight.

Was Jaskier awake, or was he in a dream? Geralt’s fingers curled in a fist around the hem of Jaskier’s shirt, desperately wondering. The question plagued him as he felt himself slip away. He shuddered, the inches between them a frozen tundra, all his doubts denying him the feel of Jaskier’s warm embrace even as it wrapped tighter around him. His last thought before being claimed by sleep was a silent wish. He wished that tomorrow the game would end. And more secretly, he wished it would be replaced with something real.

The courting continued more enthusiastically than before. Jaskier broke from the conservative spending habits Geralt had instilled in him over the years. He did not skip about buying frou-frou delights for himself or wasteful fashions. No. When he loosened his purse strings, it was to buy an extra plate for Geralt at dinner. It was to stock the spices Geralt liked best and the preserves he would never indulge in on his own. Geralt did his best to object, but relented upon Jaskier’s insistence that, “It’s a part of the courtship! You cannot deny me this privilege!” And because Jaskier would not be denied, he even found a twisted paper package of caramels hidden away in his bag among the empty potion bottles.

Jaskier continued to cuddle up with Geralt even as spring gave way to the heat of summer. Geralt thought that the game would surely be over by now, but there was no end in sight. Jaskier kept finding more and more ways to surprise Geralt, and it seemed his knowledge of courtship was far more lengthy than Geralt might have ever anticipated. That such an affair could hold Jaskier’s attention for so long was incomprehensible, and with nothing in return. Geralt could understand continuing their study if Jaskier were courting someone in earnest all the while, or having one of his romps for a weekend when they were travelling, but Jaskier had not so much as looked at anyone since … Geralt could not remember the last time Jaskier had flirted with anyone. That made it so much easier to believe. And that made it so much harder to withstand.

Months passed. Jaskier’s courtship fluctuated. He was mainly reserved in his affections and things were not much changed from before they’d begun. There may have been more lingering touches, but those had always been there, since the day they’d met. Likely it was only that Geralt was more aware of them, looking for any sign, grasping at straws for a hint of truth, denying it whenever he found one in an act of self-preservation.

Occasionally the grander gestures would return, and Jaskier counted these as special days. He justified their indulgence by using the situation as evidence; usually these occasions fell on holidays or anniversaries of which Geralt had been unaware, and if they should happen upon a festival or event unaware, Jaskier would sweep Geralt along for an improvised day of fun.

“As with any courtship, one ought to take any opportunities to enjoy oneself as one may find,” Jaskier said, always happy to remind Geralt that the courtship was ongoing, no matter how many months had passed, as if he could not tire of such proclamations. “And what could be more memorable than a day together where all the world is colorful, all the people laughing? It’s so much more fun when everyone is having fun! You can pretend that all the world is right and perfect for one day: no monsters to fight, no prejudices to contend with, and no disdainful destiny pulling at strings. Just a day chasing whatever shining thing catches your eye, unplanned, unbridled joy!”

And truly those were days where it felt like anything might happen. Jaskier shined so brightly, dragging Geralt from booth to booth. They played horseshoes, tried their hand at throwing hatches and other games and tests of skill. One favorite event they’d come upon was a sort of artist’s exhibition in Oxenfurt. Jaskier had been invited to give a lecture on his composition process and he’d insisted on Geralt coming along. After his lecture, which Geralt had listened to attentively from the back of the room, they’d gone through the university and explored the other lectures and demonstrations.

There were great works on display: tapestries and steam-powered inventions, fastidiously cultivated plants with clippings and pressed blooms for sale; a perfumer gave samples of scented paper and described how the brewing was done, and a much better kind of brewing was explained by an artisan ale brewer who offered them small mugs of her product while they listened. Jaskier attended a workshop on embroidery. Fascinated by the practice after so many years of wearing finely embroidered clothes, he wished to learn a bit of handiwork himself. Meanwhile, Geralt was especially interested to watch the smelter, blacksmith, and silversmith at work, privately comparing their methods of crafting swords with those he’d studied in the keep. It was by far one of the more memorable days of the season.

Jaskier bought Geralt a small scrap of decoratively twisted iron from the blacksmith to keep as a reminder. It wasn’t useful for much apart from keeping away faeries, but he bought a strip of cord from the lecturing tanner and fashioned a charm for him, tying it to the sheath of his silver sword. Once more, Geralt chided him for wasting money on useless things, but he found himself smiling at the charm whenever he sat to sharpen his swords. Later on, Geralt had nearly lost it on a hunt and had lingered later after the kill, searching the rocky terrain until he found it.

By fall, Geralt had nearly forgotten Jaskier was courting him at all. It had become their new normal. He let himself indulge in Jaskier’s attention, taking a page from his book. Once in a while Jaskier would make some comment about their courtship to someone in a tavern when asked why he would be travelling with a witcher, and Geralt would remember and the heavy feeling would settle over him again, but the days were too busy and bright, so he soon forgot again. It was difficult to be sad long with Jaskier’s arm looped in his.

When they weren’t travelling, that is to say, when they spent a day or two in town on a contract, Jaskier had taken to spending time alone. He would spend a few hours in their room, or he’d be somewhere in town, a bag always at his side. He practiced his embroidery, following the sample patch he’d stitched at the exhibition. Sometimes he displayed his work proudly when Geralt passed, and other times he was quick to hide it in his bag. Once, Geralt overheard news in a pub that Jaskier had been present at a quilting bee, then the gossiping party fell to whispers when they saw the witcher approach. This was during the time when Jaskier was more frequently away, acting secretive and sneaking about.

The reason behind these mysterious disappearances was shortly unveiled by the end of the month when Jaskier presented Geralt with a new winter cloak. He held it proudly stretched in his hands. It was a dark blue wool. The hood and collar were embroidered with white and yellow flowers, framed by a curling green ivy. There were two metal clasps sewn on either side, and a close look revealed them to be buttercups.

“I made it myself,” Jaskier said, glowing with pride. “Well, all but the clasps. But I did design them—think of it as the signature on a great painting!” Before Geralt could take a breath to compliment his work, Jaskier swung the cloak around Geralt’s shoulders, adjusting it handsomely. “Good, it’s not too narrow. I was a little worried, but I thought if it fit me it ought to fit you fine. Had to make sure it was wide enough in the shoulder, so I measured your armour for a good estimate. Do you like it?”

Geralt blinked. “It’s for me?” he asked.

“Of course it is. Why else would I have been so secretive? I wanted to surprise you!”

Jaskier turned away, kneeling down to pull something from beneath their bed. There was only one—had only been one for a long time now. When Jaskier emerged, he had a large box in his hands. “And now to complete the ensemble,” he said cheerfully. He shoved the box in Geralt’s hands looking up at him in anticipation.

Struggling to process the enormity of the gift, Geralt opened the box mechanically. Inside was a pair of new black leather boots with heavy tread. Upon further inspection, he discovered they were lined with rabbit fur inside the cuff.

“There. Now you’ll be ready for the journey home this winter,” Jaskier declared. Then, just a twitch, there was something reserved in his expression—something that suggested gloom. He smiled through it and straightened Geralt’s hood, making it symmetrical. His hands remained a moment, poised on Geralt’s shoulders. He seemed hesitant. There he stood, looking up at Geralt, and he appeared to be holding his breath, waiting for something.

“Thank you,” Geralt said at last. He shook his head. “No, I … it’s more than that.” It was too much; he didn’t know how to express his gratitude.

Jaskier’s hands fell and he looked at the shining clasps, avoiding Geralt’s eyes. “Yes, well. You’re welcome to it,” he said.

“I’m not sure how I ought to thank you,” Geralt continued. It occurred to him that he could ask. That was the purpose of all of this: to educate him on courtship. Every good pupil asked questions. So he did ask. “How does one usually show their appreciation after receiving a courting gift? Should I reciprocate?”

Whatever cloud passed over Jaskier’s features faded and was replaced by a small smile. “Custom dictates that you should complement the handicraft and dress yourself immediately that I might admire you bedecked in my gifts,” he answered. “Go on then! On with the boots! And if you’re feeling especially gratified, you may accompany me to dinner and allow me to show you off in all your glory.”

Geralt snorted. “Long-winded way to say you’re hungry and broke.”

“Put on the boots, you ass; I’m paying for dinner.”

As soon as Geralt had his new boots on—and oh, how comfortable they were!—Jaskier twirled his finger in the air, made him turn and model. Geralt rolled his eyes but turned around graciously. Jaskier beamed and showered him with praise. He slipped on his own cloak, for it was a cold evening, and they left the little inn, headed toward the delicious smell of the pub and their dinner, following the welcoming glow of its windows down the cobbled street.

“Wait!” Jaskier cried, leaping in front of Geralt. He spread his arms wide and Geralt nearly crashed against his back. Geralt looked over his shoulder to see what danger caused Jaskier to halt in the middle of the road, only for Jaskier to sweep the warm cloak from his shoulders and drape it across a rather nasty, muddy puddle before them.

Geralt’s eyes went wide. It was a new cloak—Jaskier had bought it only a fortnight past. He’d carefully selected a cool green, saying it would remind him of spring when the winter made the world grey, and Geralt had seen him embroidering the collar of it in the evenings before bed. Jaskier had doted on it, and Geralt had never known Jaskier to wear a cloak. Ever. He was never on the road when the weather was cold enough to warrant one, always holing up in Oxenfurt or carving himself out a space in some court for the season. He’d taken such pride in the cloak, adding his own personal touches to it, making it quite his. He talked about it constantly, boasting that it would keep him thoroughly safe when the winter chill set in, that he might climb the most icy, terrible mountain and feel as though he were snuggled up by the fireside.

That was the straw to break his back at last.

“What are you doing? That will never wash out,” Geralt scolded.

Jaskier bowed dramatically and rose with a charming shrug. “What burden is a bit of mud, my dear? I’ll not have your new boots so soon sullied on their first venture. If I allowed that, what kind of suitor would I be?” He chuckled and pressed a chaste, teasing kiss to Geralt’s cheek.

Geralt flinched away, heart leaping into his throat. “You’ve taken this too far!” he cried.

“Geralt, I assure you, the fabric is perfectly sensible and there’ll be no stain. I specifically chose it for wearing on the road.” He looked at Geralt, picking at the end of the cloak still draped in his hands. He kept his tone teasing and light, but there was a nervous edge to it he tried to hide behind a laugh. “Come now,” he said, “don’t let my gesture go in vain; I was trying so very hard to be suave.”

“No. It’s not just the cloak,” Geralt hissed. “This whole charade! I—!” Geralt fisted his hands in the thick fabric of his cloak. He turned his head away, grit his teeth. “I’m calling it off, Jaskier. I can’t tolerate one more day of this game.”

“What game?” Jaskier asked. The false cheer left him. Honest worry furrowed his brow as he lifted the wet cloak once more from the puddle, clutching it as a child might cling to a blanket.

“This courtship. It has to stop.”

Jaskier turned pale. He trembled, though no breeze swept through the air. When he spoke, his voice trembled in kind, and he looked at Geralt with anxious eyes. “If this is about the winter,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry for being pushy. You’re not ready—I can wait. But we can move slower if that’s the issue, and I can give you your space until spring, just like every year.” His hands twisted in the cloak and he held it closer to his chest. “But I thought you wanted … you agreed to the courtship. And we were headed east together. It’s coming on winter, so I thought … And you’re not one for words …” he trailed. “I don’t understand what’s changed. Just this morning we—”

“This morning, you didn’t kiss me!” Geralt snapped. “I can hold your hand, I can dance with you and listen to your pet names, I can accept your gifts and gestures in an effort to understand your customs. I know you want to teach me about courtship. It’s important to you—or entertaining. But I can’t abide being kissed! Not as part of some lesson.”

Geralt’s eyes felt hot and there was a strange hollow in the pit of his stomach. “Not if it doesn’t mean anything,” he concluded. He couldn’t look Jaskier in the eye for fear of the understanding he’d find there. What pity or disgust would he see when the realization hit? What horrible expression would he find twisting Jaskier’s expression when he finally understood that his best friend, an emotionless, beastly, taciturn witcher, was in love with him?

“Oh,” Jaskier whispered.

There it was. Geralt’s head hung low. He silently braced himself. This was the part where Jaskier would let him down gently. Or he might make an awkward joke and pretend he didn’t understand, brushing it all aside and moving on as always. Geralt wasn’t sure which would be worse. He wished Jaskier would simply leave and he wouldn’t have to suffer either one.

“Oh, Geralt,” Jaskier whispered. Geralt heard the splash as Jaskier dropped his cloak once more to the ground. And suddenly there were warm hands cradling his face. “My darling,” Jaskier said, “let me be perfectly clear. No, no, don’t look away—you’ve got to look at me and listen very carefully to what I say. This isn’t a game. I’m not playing at romance with you. I’m not trying to teach you anything either. No games, no jokes, no tricks.”

Jaskier pulled Geralt closer, forced him to meet his eyes. Geralt looked at last and saw nothing but raw sincerity staring back. “This is real,” Jaskier said. “All of it. Since that day I stood and swore to court you and win your heart. Every action and effort I made was in earnest.”

Geralt felt the grounding touch of Jaskier’s thumb stroking his cheek. His heart remained in his throat, still uncertain, but it beat with a fragile hope. “What does it mean then?” he asked.

Jaskier sighed, resting their foreheads together. “It means I love you,” he answered.

Geralt closed his eyes. He felt such a fool. Slowly, he brought his hands up to cover Jaskier’s, pressing them more firmly against his skin. The touch felt new. It had a weight to it now, and he felt lighter than ever before, needed their anchor to keep from drifting away.

Jaskier loved him.

“How does a happy courtship end?” Geralt asked, though he did not wish for it to end so soon, now that he’d learned it was real. He was inclined to start over again and do it properly, no shadows or clouds to hang over them.

Jaskier let out a last nervous breath and smiled. “With marriage,” he said. “Eventually. But I think that may be a bit too soon for us.”

“Then before that.”

“Generally, the first stage ends with a kiss. I think that’s about right for where we are.”

“And … will you kiss me?” Geralt asked, opening his eyes again. He looked into Jaskier’s deep blue irises, and for once he could examine them as much as he liked, he realized. So he stared, taking in every brown freckle, every fleck of gold however small, looking as he never allowed himself to before. With satisfaction, he watched Jaskier’s pupils widen. He was sure he looked much the same.

Jaskier chuckled, pulling Geralt’s hands down and cradling them in his own. “Me?” he asked playfully. “Oh no, my dear; I did the wooing. The stage ends when you take the reciprocating action and encourage me to continue. Therefore it is you who must kiss me. If you like.”

“And if I do?”

“Then by all means,” Jaskier prompted. “Kiss me!”

Geralt tilted his head to the side, no more hesitation, and pressed their lips together in a gentle embrace. Just one short, reverent kiss: the fruition of his longing. It was not studied—was even a bit skewed from lack of practice. But it was freeing. He leaned back again as they parted, and he felt Jaskier leaning forward after him. Geralt smiled, his heart fluttering with a joy he never thought he’d know. This felt right. Felt wonderful. And now the tension was gone and he had nothing left to fear with Jaskier’s hands so tightly clasping his.

“So. What comes in the next stage of courtship?”

“Another kiss, certainly,” Jaskier said, stepping forward in an attempt to close the distance.

Geralt stepped back, a cheeky smile rising to his lips. “I’m fresh out,” he teased.

“Goodness me!” Jaskier gasped theatrically, and he was grinning right back. “Thankfully, I have one spare! Many, in fact, if you’d like them.”

“I would.”

“But, ah! I’m not so cheap as that!” Jaskier cried in retribution. If Geralt would refuse him another kiss, Jaskier would make him earn the next. “I must be wooed first, Geralt of Rivia. It’s your turn, I did say, and I’ll have you know I expect a great deal after all the work I put in. Rides on Roach, dinners cooked for me, breakfasts, embarrassingly poor poetry; then there’s the matter of you holding my hand when I ask, sweeping me off my feet and carrying me to bed in the evening, fresh flowers, foot massages, the—”

Geralt stepped forward again and silenced Jaskier’s rambling with another kiss, smiling through it too hard to make good on the act. He laughed, tucking his face against Jaskier’s jaw as he tried to compose himself long enough to see it through, then he was kissing Jaskier’s jaw and cheek, his eyes, everything within reach as the giddy feeling rose from his chest, laughing all the while as though he would never stop.

Jaskier laughed and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s shoulders. “Yes, and as many of those as you can afford,” he chuckled. “You were holding out on me, you old tight-purse.”

Geralt pulled away enough to look Jaskier in the eye. “If I promise to woo you later, would you please just shut up and kiss me now?” he asked.

Jaskier huffed and regarded Geralt with sarcastic affection. “Someone has got to teach you about romance,” he said.

[riotfuckery]

Evening Delight

Kirishima Eijiro x f! Reader

A/N: Hello my beautiful readers! Yes this is a full blown smut fic cause I decided I wanted to try it. I’m sorry for not being on a lot, things have been rough for me personally so here’s another dirty piece for y’all. Here we have a purely indulgent Kirishima smut because I love me a himbo! Anyways please enjoy!

Warnings: ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP 21+! PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE A MINOR! Badly written smut, vaginal penetration, squirting, pussy eating, slight dirty talk, choking, creampie, overstimulation, praise kink kinda, bad attempt at aftercare.

Taglist: @thedreadthreadanomaly @trafalgar-temptress @lovelustdollsworld @obsessedchildsworld and special shoutout to @koi-has-joy for proofreading it and helping me with the ending! I love you bby! 💖

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Music echoed off the bathroom walls as you scrubbed yourself. The smell of flowers and vanilla wafting the steamy space while you hummed along to the song. Taking a 2nd shower after work was a daily thing for you, hero work was messy after all. Dirt, slime, and other strange substances left you feeling dirty even after a scrub in the showers at the agency.

After washing off the rest of the good smelling bubbles, you stepped out of the stall and wrapped your towel around yourself happily. Hot showers always worked wonders on your tired muscles. Retrieving your phone, you placed it on the counter before applying your skincare and deodorant. Now it was time to blow dry.

Once you finished blow drying your clean hair, you stepped out into you and Eijiro’s shared bedroom and padded over to the dresser. Picking out a set of all black thigh highs, black comfy shorts, and a red riot crop top and sliding them on as your long time boyfriend was coming through the door.

“Princess? Where are you? I’m home and I haven’t gotten my kiss yet.” He pouted. You giggled loudly from the bedroom and you smiled as soon as you heard his heavy footsteps stop at the door.

“Come here and get your kiss, ya big puppy!” You turned and smiled at him, taking long strides before placing your hands on his pecs while standing up on your tippy toes to give him a sweet kiss.

But he wasn’t done yet, as cute and lovable as Kirishima Eijiro was, he was also an insatiable beast. Large hands took a firm hold of your hips while the sweet kiss turned heated, pulling your body closer to his as you slid your hands up to rest on his broad shoulders while you kissed him back just as passionately.

“Already Ei? You just got home, honey. Why don’t you get changed first?” You asked breathlessly when you pulled back for air. It was easy for him to turn you on, I mean look at him. 7ft tall and built like a brick house, thick corded muscles framing his beautifully tanned body that was littered with freckles and small scars like a greek god.

“Mmmmm well when my girl wears that cute little get up, I can’t help but get excited.” He grinned slyly. He wasn’t wrong either, the way the thigh highs and shorts excited your plush ass and thighs had him rock hard from the sight.

He slid one hand from your hips to grab a large handful of your ass while the other hand went straight to your shorts to rub your clit through the thin material. You bit your lip at the feeling, his middle and ring fingers rubbing small circles on your covered bud as electricity woke up your nerves.

He groaned at the wet spot on the fabric, his heavy cock straining in this costume pants even more. “Fuuuuck you’re already so wet for me princess” he purred, the rumbling in his chest reverberating in your fingertips. “You wanna have some fun?” He asked cheekily, a sly wink thrown in that made your cheeks heat up.

“Yes please.” you shyly said, looking up at him with your lust blown eyes. But another reason why you two were such a good match, you were both insatiable for each other.

“God you’re so cute.” he whispered as he used the hand that was on your ass to grab your chin and bring you in for another breath stealing kiss. And breath stealing it was. His skilled lips meshing with yours perfectly while he dominated your mouth again.

He walked you backwards till your knees hit the bed forcing you to land your butt on it with a giggle. He smiled at the charming sound, getting on his knees in front of you so he could kiss you again.

Rough calloused hands took a hold of your shorts and underwear to slide them off slowly as he kissed you, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Red eyes looked up into yours, much like the smoldering embers of a flame. They were warm and comforting, but a little gasoline and you have a raging inferno.

“You’re so beautiful sweetheart, do me a favor and take the top off while I make you feel good. Is that okay?” He asked, ever the gentleman he was. Consent was really Kiri’s number 1 concern, he never made you do anything you didn’t want to and was never mad if you needed a break.

He didn’t wait to dig in, arms immediately circling around your thighs to place them on his sturdy shoulders as he buried his face in your slit while you pulled off your shirt and threw it to the side. His hot tongue traced circles around your sensitive pearl, giving it kitten licks to test the waters as you moaned out at the feeling of his sinful mouth on your cunt.

“You’re so tasty princess, damn I can’t get enough of you.” He groaned before immediately shoving his hot tongue in your velvet walls to get a better taste.

“Fuuuuuck baby that feels so fucking good.” you mewled, your hand tangled into the thick mane of wild red head hair kept him steady as you ground your cunt against his face.

The lewd sounds of sucking and slurping filled the room, making your cheeks red as the feeling of your impending orgasm creeped up on you. He unlooped his arms from your thighs, reaching around to grab handfuls of your plush ass on his hands and squeeze.

With that, the beast of a man stood up with you on his shoulders as he continued to eat you like you were his last meal. You squeaked at the sudden movement, walls clamping down on his tongue. The display of strength made you full body shiver as he continued his magic, eyes closed as he moved his mouth to gently nip and suck at your clit.

“I can feel you getting close baby but not yet oh no.” he started, red eyes looking up at you while you whined at the feeling of him stopping, you were so close to orgasming.

“I want you to cum on my cock while I fuck your pretty little cunt, does that sound good sweetheart?” He asked between giving kisses to your twitching clit.

“Y-yes please, please make me cum so hard that I see stars.” you begged cutely, in just the way he liked as you looked back at him with those pleading eyes. You were so close and this fucking tease just had to stop.

“Awe there’s my good girl.” he smiled, the smile so innocent that it seemed out of place yet so fucking sexy.

You didn’t have time to process the praise before you were dropped onto the bed. Landing on your back, it took you a second to adjust before Eijiro crawled on the bed and tugged you by the ankle to bring your body closer to his.

“I love it when you manhandle me.” you purred, eyes half lidded at how aggressive he was being.

“Is that so baby?” He asked huskily as he crawled his way up to your body to give you another kiss.

The kiss you shared is messy and sloppy but just equally as sweet, tongues wresting as you trailed your hands down his body to fumble with his belt for a second before pulling his cock out of his costume pants.

You pulled back from the kiss for much needed air, your hand stroking his cock as he looked at you with blown out eyes. He moaned at the stimulation, hips slightly thrusting into your hand as he leaned forward to nip at your neck.

The feeling of his teeth on your neck was immaculate, light nibbles and bites timed just right as you felt his cock twitch in your fist. He pulled back from your body, a large hand covering yours to stop your movements while he smirked at you.

“What a naughty girl, trying to turn the tables on me.” he chastised, making your eyes go wide at the authority in his voice.

“I’m in charge tonight so be a good girl and lay back.” He commanded, eyes dark when his other hand trailed up your body to grab your neck and squeeze lightly.

“Y-yes sir.” you stuttered out, the tone of his voice and the pressure on your neck flooding your body with a fuzzy feeling as you laid back and watched him take off his costume.

“Now where were we?” He playfully asked once his gear was gone, once again crawling his way up the bed to your body where his large hands took a hold of your thighs and spread them open.

Your teeth found it’s way to bite your lip at sight of his forearms flexing while doing such a simple move. Red eyes immediately trailed down your body where they stopped at the sight of your spit and juice covered slit.

“Fuck you look so sexy little one, all messy and I haven’t even fucked you yet.” He purred in your ear, leaning over and using one hand to support himself and the other to tease the length of your pussy with his cockhead. You wrapped your arms around him, your nails already biting into his skin at his seductive voice so close to you.

You mewled at the feeling of his cock teasing you, overstimulated clit twitching in anticipation. He placed a kiss below your ear before sliding in, a deep rumble in his chest as you moaned at the feeling of his thick cock stretching you out.

“Fuuuuck baby you feel so fucking good” he growled, immediately setting a bruising pace with his hips. The thing was about Eijiro, his dick was so thick and long that he was hitting your cervix with no problem.

It wasn’t really long before you came for the first time that day, the built up pressure of your last denied orgasm coming back with a vengeance when he angled his hips slightly so his cock hits your Gspot over and over again.

“You like that little one? You like it when I pound your cute lil cunt?” He growled, lips honing in on your sweet spot while he sucked a mark on your neck.

The coil in your gut was winding tighter and tighter, your eyes rolled back and tongue lolled out as you moaned out at his filthy words.

“Shit! I’m c-cumming!~” you moaned lewdly, nails digging into his back muscles and legs locking around his narrow yet muscular waist to bring him closer to you.

He groaned at the feeling of your walls clamping down on him, hips slowing their fast and rough pace for a moment to help you gently ride out your orgasm with slow thrusts.

“Hmmm that was cute face you made princess, let’s see if we can get you to make it again~” he cheekily winked before bringing you in for a kiss, resuming his rough and fast pace which immediately set your nerves on fire.

You barely had time to register the meaning of his words when you felt his lips on yours, messily kissing back when one of his hands wrapped around your throat for the second time that night.

The steady but light pressure sent your head to the cloud nine when he continued to pound into you, the sound of skin slapping echoing through your ears as your heart started to race.

“You like it when I choke you baby? I bet you fuckin do with that lewd looks of yours. I’ll wreck that cute pussy of yours, paint you in my fucking colors as I claim you.” He hissed, the hold on your neck tightening while his thrusts got sloppier.

You could only whine out in ecstasy, tongue lolled out in while you panted. With a twitch of his cock, you could tell he was close.

Kiri could feel is own orgasm approaching, breath coming out in hot puffs of his kiss swollen lips before clenching his jaw. Your tight and wet walls were clamping down his thick cock, the fluttering of your muscles telling him you were just as close as he is.

He activated his quirk on his hand that shot straight down to your clit and started rubbing messy circles on it. The ridges on his quirk activated hands adding more stimulation to your already abused pearl. “Cum for me baby, be a good girl for me and cum on my cock.” He choked out, thrusts getting sloppy and more frantic to chase your shared release.

“C-cumming!” You was all you managed to squeak out, his filthy words and stimulation on your clit being the last thing you needed before cumming. Stars flashed in your vision as you came, feeling your soul leave your body for a moment as the knot snapped finally.

“Fuuuuuck, that’s so hot princess.” He groaned, hips stuttering at the vice grip you had on his cock. The overwhelming stimulation spilled over in the form of clear juice spraying from your abused cunt, soaking the bedsheets and his muscular thighs while he painted your inner walls white.

He released the grip he had on your neck, instead to gently grab your face and give you a sweet kiss. Even while still lost in the afterglow of a mind blowing orgasm, he still managed to find a way to be the sweetest man ever.

“You okay baby?” He asked while he pulled on a fresh pair of underwear while you laid there panting, mind still fuzzy and legs twitching from the mind blowing multiple orgasms he gave you. You nodded with a contented smile, all the tiredness from today and your fun escapade with your boyfriend hitting at once.

“Lets get you cleaned up princess.” he spoke softly as he bridal carried your tired body to the bathroom and started to run a hot bath for you.

The day ended with a relaxing soak in the tub while he changed the sheets and threw the dirty ones in the wash before joining you. He cleaned you up gently, rewashing your body like you were made of porcelain.

After a short nap and some delivery, you ended the night cuddling and watching TV until you both fell asleep.

»»————-　♡　————-««

[fangirl-creates]

ZERO OVER YONDER (FULL FIC)

(Likes and Reblogs are appreciated!)

1 - Banjo Pluck

“Look, all I’m saying is—would it kill Rippen to just have a little chill once in a while?” The red-headed boy vented to his friends as they walked to the movie theater.

“Penn, Rippen is Rippen. Of course he’s still gonna be rude to you when we’re not saving the Multiverse.” Sashi commented, wanting desperately to hear the end of these complaints spilling out of Penn’s mouth.

“Well yeah, obviously. But today, there was just no end to it! Like even when I was eating lunch, BAM! There he was!” He folded his arms, his face turning about as red as his hair at this point.

Rippen had definitely been more annoying than usual today. The reason? Probably having a bad day and picking on Penn was the only thing that would bring him ‘joy’...if you’d even call it that. And even though Penn had learned to ignore Rippen during times like these, today was one of those ‘impatient’ days for Penn Zero—considering the fact he had stayed up till 3am last night on a count of The Chinchilla bothering him again.

“Don’t worry about it, dude.” Boone put his arm around his friend, patting his back. “I’m sure beating Rippen again will put you in a good mood. Think of it as a way to get back at him.”

“Yeah!” Sashi chimed in. “I’ll even let you kick him in the face this time.” She smiled.

Penn felt a little better, the red from his face fading away. “Thanks, guys.”

The trio stepped onto their usual spots on the zap platform, Penn cracking his knuckles.

“I’m really gonna let him have it today.” He grinned between his teeth.

“Violence must wait till tomorrow!” Phyllis called from her spot on the balcony.

Penn titled his head. “...I don’t understand.”

“You will see.” She pulled the lever, the trio levitating as they were forced into the portal. “GOOD LUCK!”

After the brilliant blue flash, Penn opened his eyes. Space. He saw Space. Below him was the material of some kind of smaller planet he stood on—“Purple-colored dirt” in his Earth vocabulary. But that wasn’t the thing that surprised him...it was the body he was in. It was weirdly insulating, like a very thick fur coat—that’s when he realized he was covered in it. Orange fur coated him from head to toe. The only articles of clothing he was actually wearing were white socks and some slightly worn blue sneakers. He felt..uncomfortable.

“Penn?” Sashi’s voice made itself known.

Penn looked up, a bit surprised she was taller than him now. “Sashi! You’re a—uh….” He studied his friend’s new look. She was blue with a pink mane—yet her body itself was a cross between a horse and a dinosaur. He shrugged it off. “Never mind.” He looked around for the Wiseman. “Where’s Boone?”

“Right here!” A confident voice called, Penn searching for the source.

“Boone? Where are-” He noticed Sashi pointing above his head, to which he realized he was wearing a hat as well. He took it off to find the rather large green hat staring back at him. “Oh.”

“Oh yeah. I definitely feel like a wiseman now…”

“Cause you were on my head and you feel like you can give me knowledge that way.” Penn raised a brow.

Boone did what was an attempted shrug. “Who knows...maybe I’m magic.”

Penn rolled his eyes, placing Boone back on his head. “Okay Sash, check the specs.”

Sashi pressed the side of her glasses, which were now a dark purple to complement the colors of her new form. The holographic image showed up in front of them. “You are a wandering Do-Gooder, and I am your trusty steed and best friend.”

“What about me?” Boone asked, feeling a little left out.

“You’re his hat.” ….She didn’t add anything else.

“Well, I still think I might be magic.” He looked away. “You two just don’t know it yet.”

Sashi rolled her eyes. “Annnnyway, the evil Lord Hater is planning to conquer another innocent planet with his army of Watchdogs. It’s up to us to stop him before he manages to leave the planet successful.” Normally, this was the part where the hologram would disappear, but it lingered.

“All right! Sounds easy enough.” Penn pounded his fists together. “I’ll admit, this body is a little on the weaker side, but I can still give Rippen a good fi-”

“Actually, you can’t use violence at all. I’m the one who can fight them. You stop bad guys by...being nice.” Now the hologram was gone.

Penn suddenly understood what Phyllis meant earlier...and he hated it. “I...I can’t fight him?! Seriously??” His face was turning red again, yet it was hard to tell with the orange fur. “So not only does Rippen get away with all the stuff he did to me today, but now I can’t even GET HIM BACK?!”

“No one said you can’t get him back—you just can’t beat him up.” Sashi folded her arms.

“...Can I at least punch him?”

“No. You’ll ruin the hero’s image.”

Penn covered his face with hands, a muffled scream. He then took a deep breath, calming himself. Thankfully for him, this body seemed to have a very calm mindset...that, and really cheerful one. “Okay...okay, I’ll do my best…for the sake of the mission, and because I don’t want to accidentally break something.” He hopped onto the saddle on Sashi’s back.

“Good choice.” Sashi nodded. “Now how do we get out of here?”

“Don’t look at me—what the??” A small bottle fell onto the ground. Upon closer inspection, it looked like a container for bubble blowing, but it read ‘Orbble juice’, with instructions on the back. Penn shrugged and pulled the wand out, blowing as a large air-tight bubble formed around them, lifting them off the ground. “Now we’re talking!” He yelled out into the bubble, cheerfully. “HEIGH-HO, SYLVIA!”

Sashi and Boone both looked at him.

Penn blinked, not sure what came over him. “S-Sashi...I meant Sashi. Oh, that was weird.”

Thankfully, it was quickly forgotten by the trio, heading on their way to their next destination…

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2 - A Hero’s Image

Rippen looked at himself in the mirror. In all his years as a Part-Time Villain, he had only been a skeleton once. And even then, it was only for a couple minutes. The complete lack of skin made him feel...exposed. But at the same time, the bone seemed hard as nails, so there was that.

His thoughts were quickly interrupted, however, by the rambles of his cheerful minion—who was in the body of a Commander with the exact opposite personality. But that didn’t affect Larry in the slightest. “Isn’t this eyeball head weird? I mean I’m talking, but there’s no mouth! How crazy is that?” He laughed. “How do people even know when I’m speaking?”

Rippen rolled his eyes. “Your pupil moves, Larry.”

Larry looked in the mirror, expressing a smile as much as a watchdog could to the best of their abilities. “Heh, it’s kinda funny how it bounces like that.”

“Can we get on with it, then?” He was having an exceptionally good day...as far as Rippen’s standards go. And he didn’t want this good mood to go to waste.

“Right, right...sorry.” He laughed softly, pressing the side of his glasses, which were now yellow and only one square instead of two. “Okay, you are the evil Lord Hater and I am your Second in Command. Our Mission is to conquer another poor innocent planet before Penn stops you with-” Larry paused, unsure he was reading this right.

“With what? Come on, spit it out.” Rippen pestered.

“Um...friendship.”

Rippen blinked, a bit stunned by what Larry just said. “Maybe it's the lack of ears that makes it hard for me to hear you, but did you say…‘Friendship’?”

“Yep. He’s supposed to be nice to you.” Larry nodded.

Rippen was silent for a moment, then he burst out laughing. “Penn Zero’s forced to be nice to me!” He laughed again. “If we’re lucky, he’ll break under the pressure, completely ruining the hero’s image! And then I can finally become a Full-Time Villain!” When he laughed a third time, however, green lighting shot from his fingertips as he made a ‘rock n roll’ gesture with both of his hands.

Larry narrowly avoided it, but some watchdogs down the hall weren’t so lucky; loud yelps followed by groaning were heard after getting zapped.

“Wait..what just happened?” Rippen looked at the gesture he was making, a bit confused.

“Oh yeah, you got cool lightning powers! I forgot to tell you that…” Larry attempted a smile again.

For once in his life, Rippen was filled with the absolute confidence that this time...this time, he could not only win...but finally annihilate Penn Zero. He laughed one more time, green lighting sparking around him. “This is it, Larry! Victory is finally at hand!”

Friendship...of all the things. He had been nice to Rippen before, sure, but that was often out of pity...or on rare occasions, when he genuinely felt sorry for him. But this was the first time he was forced to do it. And that fact made him upset. Heck, even the phrase ‘Kill em with Kindness’ was starting to sound not understandable anymore. He glanced at Sashi. “Soooo, this whole ‘friendship’ thing…”

Sashi’s eyes met his, despite being focused on the destination.

“Is he like...allergic to it or something? Is he gonna melt if I hug him??”

“No. You’re just being nice to him...for the 100th time.” She mumbled under her breath.

“I know, I know...it’s just...what’s the point of being nice to your enemy if they’re just gonna continue to do you harm? How is this furball even still alive after constantly clashing with this guy?”

It Never hurts to Help. A little voice said in the back of his mind.

Penn blinked. “Boone, did you say something?” He glanced up.

“Uhh no?”

He scratched his head, thinking. If he was really gonna do this, he was gonna do it right. But how?

As if on cue, Boone jumped up, a Banjo seemingly appearing out of nowhere, landing in Penn’s hands. He stared at it. “Uhhh Boone...where did this come from?” He looked up.

Boone just gasped in response. “I AM magic!!” He said triumphantly.

Penn rolled his eyes, holding the banjo awkwardly. When it came to music, Penn considered himself more of a singer than anything else. But Instruments were not his strong suit...still, this Banjo didn’t look unimportant. He held it the right way, his fingers dancing along the frets. And then, as if on command…he started playing. It wasn’t a specific song or anything too complex, just a simple melody that made his friends smile as he continued. It was so strange...he had never played the banjo before, and here he was; playing it like he’d had years of practice. He was so lost in song, that he didn’t realize he was moving around while he did so. Luckily, they had found their destination before Rippen did, so Sashi was able to land on the ground, giving Penn freedom to do...whatever he was doing.

Sashi was amused by this. She had seen Penn dance before, but this was nothing like how he normally did it. This kind of dancing was silly, almost...cartoonish. What was even funnier was that not only did he dance in tune to the music, but he sang along to it as well. Well...more like sing-talking gibberish. Regardless, he seemed really into it. In fact, he got faster with each ‘verse’. It got to a point where he was strumming so fast, one would think the banjo was going to catch fire.

Penn’s chest went up and down as he breathed heavily, stopping finally. The sound of Sashi clapping caught his attention and he immediately realized what was going on. “O-Oh...yeah I didn’t mean to do any of that….” He blushed.

“It was cute.” Sashi commented. “But, you know, like in a funny kind of way.”

“Yeah, But not so good for me…” Boone managed, feeling a bit dizzy from Penn’s rapid dancing and spinning.

Penn cringed. “Ohh oh no. Do you need a minute? Do hats even get sick??” He thought about it for a second. Unfortunately, his thoughts were interrupted by a loud THUD.

All three turned to see a giant Skull Ship land on the planet’s surface. It opened its mouth, a large tongue landing down as watchdogs began to march in formation, chanting ‘Hate’s Great, Best Villain!’ as they did.

Penn watched, standing proudly as he held the banjo close. “Alright…” He took a deep breath. “Time to go to work.”

—————————-—————————-—————————-—————————-—————————-————————

3 - Never Hurts to Help

It didn’t take long for Rippen to get the Watchdogs out, the inhabitants of the planet already running away in fear. The Do-Gooders were behind a rather large rock. Not the best hiding spot, but a good temporary one.

“Okay, Sash. That’s your cue.”

Sashi cracked her knuckles, but glanced at her friends before she ran off. “I know you can do this, PZ.” Then she was gone—charging into a group of Watchdogs.

Penn watched, taking a deep breath.

“So what are you gonna do?” Boone asked.

Penn hesitated. “Honestly, I have no idea.” He remembered what Sashi had said earlier...No one said you couldn’t get back at Rippen—you just can’t beat him up. Penn remembered how annoying Rippen was earlier...and for some reason, the mindset of this body seemed to know exactly how to annoy him back. A smirk appeared on his face as he ran to find his enemy.

Rippen was having the time of his life, blasting back at forth. What felt even better was that the creatures feared him the closer he got. He didn’t even care Sashi was punching the Watchdogs left and right—as long as he got his reward, he didn’t care what else went wrong.

“Havin’ fun, Rippen?”

And there it was.

Rippen turned to face the orange ball of fur, a cackle at how tall he was compared to the do-gooder. “Well, Well, Well! If it isn’t Penn Zero!” He raised his hands, pointing them at him as green lighting charged between his fingers—the soft glow illuminating on everyone close enough to see. “I know all about this little requirement of your’s to not hurt me-! So now I only have one thing to say to you—!”

Penn’s heart pounded in his chest. Best case scenario, the plan worked. Worst case scenario, Rippen blasts him into the next dimension.

“—Are you ready to meet your demise?”

Penn cleared his throat, standing casually. “Actually, Rippen ol’ Buddy, I’ve got a question for you.” He sounded so calm despite the fear inside of him.

Rippen raised part of his brow, staring down at his enemy. This day had been going so well for him. And if he destroyed him without hearing the question at all, it would haunt him forever. Rippen shrugged, not letting his guard down. “You know what? Ask away!”

Penn breathed a small sigh of relief, taking a step back. “Well I was just thinking...you must be hungry after this...invasion thing.”

Though he didn’t want to admit it, Rippen was starving. He didn’t understand why, but this body had the need to consume every junk food imaginable. And everything it craved, Rippen had never touched in his life. He made a slightly annoyed face at Penn. “Why would it matter to you?”

“Oh no reason…” He pulled out two sandwiches from behind his back. “Just that...uh..got some sandwiches here. Hate for them to go to waste…” He mocked, waving the scent around Rippen’s nonexistent nose. “Truly...truly a shame.”

Rippen’s stomach made probably one of the loudest sounds a stomach was capable of making—strange, considering Skeletons didn’t even have stomachs. He tried to keep his eyes off the two sandwiches, but it was impossible. “Ugh! Just give them to me—!” He tried to reach, but Penn jumped back.

“What’s that? You do want these?” He grinned. “Well, would you prefer—” He threw the first sandwich at Rippen’s face. “Mustard-?” He jumped over Rippen, throwing the other sandwich on his face when he turned around. “-or Mayo?!” He laughed, landing on his feet.

Rippen angrily wiped the sandwiches from his face, staring at Penn with a piercing glare.

Instead of a rude gesture, Penn stuck out his tongue in a playful manner, his legs speeding up. “Come and get me!” And he was gone.

Rippen didn’t know why, but every voice in the back of his head screamed ‘GET HIM!’ no matter what. And that’s exactly what he did. He ran, screaming at the top of his...lungs? Whatever skeletons have.

Penn pulled out the banjo as he ran, turning around as he was now jogging backwards. “How about a little chase music?” He smiled, strumming rather fast. The music seemed to be annoying Rippen even more, which meant it was working.

Meanwhile, Sashi had already beaten up all the Watchdogs while Rippen was distracted. Larry was too busy watching Rippen chase Penn around to notice. Something about it made him want to sigh. He was...disappointed in Rippen?? He shivered, hoping he’d never get that feeling again.

At this point, Rippen was exhausted. He clawed at the ground, now laying on his stomach. Penn, however, didn’t feel tired at all. He felt as though he could run a marathon in seconds. Eventually, he stopped running and walked right over to Rippen, bending down so they were at eye level once more. He put his hands behind his back, a smug look on his face.

“You uh..you doing okay?” He raised a brow.

Rippen wheezed, trying to stand. “W...Watchdogs! Get him—!” It wasn’t until he yelled that when he realized they were all defeated, Sashi standing there triumphantly. “NOOO! I WAS SO CLOSE!!” He wheezed again, his face lightly hitting the ground.

Penn felt a little bad for him. He wasn’t sure why the feeling was so sudden, but he didn’t question it. “Look, you seem pretty exhausted, so I’ll just leave this here for you.” He placed one of the mustard sandwiches and a bottle of a soda labeled ‘Thunder Blazz’ in bright yellow bubble letters on the side.

Rippen stared at the food, standing up as he wolfed down the sandwich. He glared at Penn, pointing at him. “This doesn’t make us friends!” He spoke between bites.

Penn made a face. “I uh...I never said that.”

Rippen blinked, shaking his head. “Oh never mind!” He grabbed the soda and angrily trudged back to the skull ship, Larry patting him on the back as they headed inside.

The inhabitants cheered once the skull ship took off, Sashi running to greet her friends. “You did it, Penn!”

“Yeah!” Boone chimed in. “I’m not exactly sure what you did...but you did it!”

Penn’s eyes watched the skull ship fade from view. Why did Rippen retreat? And why did he think he was trying to be his friend? Even with all these questions, Penn still couldn’t help but feel good about himself…

With another blue flash, the trio was pulled back to the movie theater, landing safety back onto their original spots. Penn looked at himself, no longer feeling uncomfortable, but a bit disappointed the cheerful feeling was gone. “That was probably one of the strangest missions ever...but in a good way.” He managed.

“Yeah, wonder what was up with Rippen after we won…” Sashi added, hand on her chin.

“Sometimes,” Phyills started, coming back down from the balcony. “Enemy is just a friend you haven’t made yet.” She looked at Penn. “Remember that, Penn Zero.”

Penn put his hands in his pockets, a smile. “I will.”

—————————-—————————-—————————-—————————-—————————-————————

4 - Epilogue

Later that evening, the space duo set up camp for the night. Sylvia was still trying to process exactly what happened earlier. Her fists were sore from punching Watchdogs, when she hadn’t even done that today? Or had she??

Wander, on the other hand, seemed to be in a particularly good mood. Normally, that wasn’t a surprise in Wander’s case, but it definitely was after the events of today.

“I swear,” Sylvia put some wood on the fire, the flames grasping onto it. “My head’s buzzing like a swarm of bees. The whole thing was so weird…” She sat down next to her friend, who was casually resting, playing a happy tune on his banjo. “How are you keeping it all together, buddy? Doesn’t your head hurt?” She asked, concerningly.

The Nomad looked up at her, smiling. “Because I helped someone.”

Sylvia blinked. “So...you remember what happened today?”

“Nope.” He cheerfully responded.

“...then..how do you know if you helped someone or not??”

“Just a hunch.”

Sylvia rolled her eyes, playfully, rustling his fur. “Okay, buddy…”

Deep within the stars, they saw the skull ship pass by, the voice of Lord Hater screaming into the night sky…

“I CAN’T BELIEVE I ACTUALLY ATE ONE OF WANDER’S STUPID SANDWICHES!!”

Wander chuckled, yawning as he got into his normal sleeping spot. “Yep, not a bad day…”

Sylvia still couldn’t remember what happened, but regardless of that, she was happy Wander still got to help out someone. And in the end, that was all that matters...

END