#edit: thanks for letting me know the ship name (i had seen a handful and wasn’t sure which was the main one)
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We Have a Child, Now What?
The first chapter of my Tiny Tom fic is finally here! I’ve been rotating this since the first episode with him and it is time to share it with all of you. I hope you enjoy!
WC: 1718
Chapters: 1/?
Relationships: Jimmy/Joel (more will be added later)
Tags/CW: Implied sexual content, giving a child up for adoption (tags will be updated as story develops)
Summary: Joel convinces Jimmy to make a baby with him for his secret santa, but now that the child is here Jimmy wants to keep him. If only it was easier to compromise on custody discussions with his (not-so) unrequited crush and the hermits while coming to terms with his past and his culture. All Jimmy really wants to do is raise his new son and kiss a pretty man.
You can read it on AO3 here!
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Chapter 1: Meeting Tiny Tom
Jimmy startles awake to someone pounding at his front door. A glance out the window tells him it is only just after dawn, sunlight not yet making a full appearance over the nearby mountains. He groans and rubs the sleep from his eyes. Maybe, he thinks, if he stays quiet they will assume he is still asleep and come back later.
Much to his dismay, the visitor continues to rattle the door with their loud knocking. Fine. They win this time.
“I’m coming,” he shouts towards the door, his voice still raspy from sleep. Thankfully they hear him and the noise stops. He moves to roll out of bed and winces when standing causes a tight pressure to grow behind his eyes. It fades into the background after a moment, but not before he identifies it as dehydration. Right, yesterday. He really didn’t want to think about yesterday.
After grabbing the nearest set of clothes and throwing them on, he begrudgingly climbs down the ladder. He pauses to slide on his boots before opening the door.
Joel. Of course it’s Joel. He’s leaning casually against one of the columns of the porch with his arms crossed. Jimmy frowns at a light bruise above Joel’s right collarbone as memories of the previous day come flooding forward.
The excitement Jimmy had felt when Joel asked if he would try to make a baby with him. Their laughter as they chanted and ran around the lore tree. The way his heart raced as Joel grabbed his hand and led him towards the Stratos inspired house. The feeling of Joel’s lips and warm skin against his own.
The crushing disappointment he felt afterwards when Joel said this was a no strings attached situation. How Jimmy sobbed himself to sleep feeling used and now knowing his feelings weren’t mutual. That if they had succeeded, he wouldn’t even be able to keep his own kid.
He’s brought back to the present by Joel clearing his throat and lifting an eyebrow. Jimmy’s yellow wings puff up behind him defensively. “What do you want?” he demands, glaring at Joel.
Joel doesn’t seem affected by the outburst, forever hiding behind a facade of nonchalance. He simply moves to stand upright and shrugs. “I just came over to tell you that it worked and we have a kid now.”
Jimmy’s jaw drops in shock and a glimmer of bittersweet hope sparks in his chest. “We do? It worked?”
Rolling his eyes Joel retorts, “That’s what I said, yes. I found him under the lore tree this morning when I went to add some decorations.”
“He?” Jimmy asks. Joel nods in response before Jimmy continues more enthusiastically, “Where is he now? I want to see him!”
“He’s still by the tree. I left–”
“You left a child unattended?” Jimmy interrupts loudly, not giving Joel time to respond before pushing past him and flapping his wings to catch the cold morning air. Within seconds he lands heavily near the tree, looking around frantically until he spots the child sitting on a blanket in a small fenced-in area under the shade of the tree.
He forces his wings to relax as he looks around and notes the lack of danger as well as the fact that the kid is happily playing with some small blocks of wood. Joel lands beside him and huffs in irritation. “I was trying to tell you I left him in a safe place with some toys. I’m not an idiot Jimmy, I know how to take care of children.”
Jimmy looks towards Joel in surprise before remembering Hermes. Of course Joel would know not to leave a child in an unsafe location. He feels a pang of jealousy in his chest, thinking about how much Joel cares about Sausage and their kid, decidedly pushing down the flicker of desire for Joel to look at him the same way. That wasn’t helpful right now.
No, Joel had made his views on their relationship very clear. Jimmy shakes his head to banish those thoughts before approaching the child. His child.
The young boy looks up at him curiously as he approaches, purple eyes gleaming as they spot his bright feathers. Eyes that exactly match the color of his own.
“Hello my sweet boy,” Jimmy coos softly as he sits in front of his son. “You like my feathers don’t you?” The child makes grabby hands towards his wings and Jimmy laughs lightly. “Here let me help you.” He reaches down and picks him up, sitting the boy in his lap and pulling his wing closer. He plucks a loose feather and hands it to the child, who clumsily grabs it with his small fingers.
While he is studying the feather, Jimmy takes the time to truly look at his child for the first time. He has dark, nearly void-black skin that is peppered with small light gray freckles, particularly on his arms and across his nose. His hair is a vibrant silver and sits in tight curls against his head. He is wearing a purple onesie and soft gray socks. Judging by how the child sits in his lap, wobbling slightly but able to hold himself up, Jimmy figures he must be just under a year old.
Jimmy can feel his love for the boy blooming in his chest. A strong desire to protect and nurture swiftly overwhelms him. He pulls his wings around himself and the child in his lap. Taking a shaky breath, he sees bright purple eyes look up at him.
The small boy babbles at him and Jimmy is sure he has never smiled this fondly at anything or anyone. This child is already his whole world.
His wings puff defensively when someone nearby clears their throat. Poking his head out from the feathery cocoon, he sees Joel staring at him with an eyebrow raised.
Flustered by the interruption and embarrassed about forgetting Joel’s presence, Jimmy cradles the child against his chest and stands. “He’s perfect.”
Joel barks out a laugh. “Yeah, perfect for my secret santa.” The statement feels like a punch to the stomach. Jimmy recoils, stumbling backwards a couple of steps, wings coming up to protectively surround the child in his arms.
“No,” Jimmy shakily replies. “I won’t let you give him away.”
Joel’s face contorts into mild concern. One hand halfway reaching towards Jimmy as if to stabilize or comfort him, before he decides against it, hand returning to his side. Joel’s expression shifts back to careful neutrality and he clears his throat before responding.
“I’ve already told you that I am putting him up for adoption. And I’m not going to tell you who's getting him, because I know you will just go steal the child back. But,” he pauses, looking between Jimmy and the boy in his arms, “I’ll let you name the child. If you want to.”
Jimmy huffs at this before looking down and adjusting the child in his arms. The boy is still staring at his wings and Jimmy moves to run his hand through his silver curls. Jimmy takes this moment to take stock of the situation. He is, of course, still furious with Joel for continuing to insist that he was giving the boy away. But at the same time, he is not going to pass up the opportunity to name his own son.
But how could a name capture such a perfect child? This decision would follow the boy for the rest of his life, granted he decided to keep the name. The pressure of the decision seems to force any name he had ever known from his mind.
Looking back up to Joel and shuffling his feet awkwardly, Jimmy admits, “I, uh, can’t think of any names.”
Joel rolls his eyes. “Think of any name.” Jimmy looks back down towards brilliant purple eyes. Of course Joel wouldn’t be taking this seriously. He thinks for a moment before the perfect idea strikes him. This is his son after all.
Jimmy glances up trying his best to contain his grin. “Any name?” Joel nods, eyeing him suspiciously. “How about Jimmy Jr.?”
“Ji- ugh, no it can’t be Jimmy Jr.” Joel exclaims throwing his hands up in frustration. “Because obviously they are going to think it’s from you. It’s a secret santa.”
Well there goes that idea, he thinks. Okay any name, he can do this. Maybe a name that could compliment his own? “Alright, um, Tiny Tom.”
With a clap Joel declares, “Tiny tom it is! There we go. Tom, our child.” Joel reaches out to take Tom, but Jimmy avoids his hands by taking a step back.
“Can I at least keep him around for a day or two?” Jimmy asks desperately. Maybe he can buy some time to figure out how to make sure Tiny Tom stays with him.
“No, I need to take him to my secret santa.” Joel states, keeping his arms extended towards them.
A tightness makes itself known in Jimmy’s chest and tears threaten to spill. His voice wavers as he pleads, “Then let me at least say goodbye.”
Joel lowers his arms and takes a single step back. “Fine, but make it quick. The secret santa presents are due soon.”
Jimmy brings his wings around himself and Tom, blocking Joel from view. He cradles Tom tightly in his arms and kisses his forehead. A little hand presses against his face as a tear falls.
“I’m coming back for you,” he whispers. “Joel might be taking you for now, but I will find a way to get you back. I love you, my beautiful Tiny Tom.”
He takes a shaky breath and tries to blink away some of the tears. Another breath, and he pulls back his wings and straightens his shoulders. Something flickers across Joel’s face when they make eye contact, but it is quickly replaced by another too-neutral expression.
Stiffly, he steps forward and passes Tom to Joel. He watches as Joel adjusts Tom in his arms and leans down to take a pair of small headphones out of a nearby shulker. After placing the headphones over Tom’s ears he adjusts his elytra straps and pulls out a rocket.
With a nod and a simple goodbye, Joel takes off and quickly disappears over the mountains.
#empires smp#empiresshipping#jimmy solidarity#solidaritygaming#smallishbeans#tiny tom#empires tiny tom#idk jimmy and joel's ship name#edit: thanks for letting me know the ship name (i had seen a handful and wasn’t sure which was the main one)#smallidarity#mermaid writes
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Can you write from the prompt list, “Because I think I might like you and that thought in and of itself terrifies me.” with our lovely Steven Grant? ♥️ Thank you!!
Of course! I am always happy to write for our beloved Steven 💙
Work-Love-Balance
tags: co-workers/friends to lovers | fluff | gn!reader
ships: Steven Grant/Reader
AO3
Edit: added AO3 link
“Because I think I might like you and that thought in and of itself terrifies me.”
It feels like you haven't seen Steven in ages. Every time you share a shift with him at the museum he vanishes into the storage room. When you go to the fountain where you usually spend your lunch break together you only find the golden human statue waiting for you. You didn’t even manage to hang out with him after work anymore either. The first few times you think it's just bad luck.
You text him and Steven is quick to respond every time with a sensible response. Oh, he got picked to take new merchandise from storage. He's so sorry, he took his break a little earlier and you must have just missed him. He’s busy after work, he’s too exhausted, he’s not feeling well.
The days go by and you feel more and more like Steven was avoiding you, that this all happened on purpose.
So you decided to take matters into your own hands and visit Steven at home where he (hopefully) couldn't avoid you.
An older lady, one of his neighbors, let you into the apartment building so now you are standing outside his door, doubting your own plan. You take a deep breath and knock on the door. You hear rattling inside the flat, then footsteps. The door opens a little and you see Steven's face through the small crack that formed. He looks confused, nose all scrunched up until he recognizes you. His face lights up and then freezes. Steven stammers your name nervously before unlocking the door and opening it fully.
“W-Why are you here? Did something happen? I didn't forget to go into work, did I?”
You shake your head with a smile, “Nothing like that. I just missed you and thought that maybe we could hang out?”
“I- Well I don’t-”
You stop him from coming up with another excuse by giving him the saddest puppy eyes you can muster.
“Please? I’ve missed you, Steven!”
You swear you can see him blush as he mumbles "OK, come in" and lets you inside.
You walk into his flat, a messy but cozy space you've been to a few times before. While Steven closes his door again behind you, you make yourself comfortable on his couch.
"I know you've been busy lately so I hope I haven't disturbed you."
He shuffles over to you, wringing his hands in front of himself.
"No, not at all. I was just…", he vaguely gestures towards the books strewn about the coffee table.
Steven seems more nervous than usual. You look at him concerned. "I didn't want to just come by unannounced but every time I asked you were busy. I just-"
You sigh and shake your head.
"It feels like you're avoiding me."
He sits down next to you and swallows hard. Steven takes a deep breath and looks at you, his eyes sad. He looks guilty.
"I'm sorry."
You didn't think he would admit it. You still had some hope that it was all a coincidence and you were making it all up in your head.
"Why? Why were you avoiding me?"
“Because I think I might like you and that thought in and of itself terrifies me.”
Steven stumbles over the words and then freezes again, like he never meant for them to leave his mouth.
You blink at him. "But…I like you too! We're friends, right?"
Steven visibly grows frustrated. "Not like that. I like you.", he emphasizes the word by looking at you intently, brows furrowed in concentration.
You take a moment for the meaning behind his words to hit you and your eyes widen.
Oh.
You can feel your cheeks heat up and a goofy grin slowly creeps onto your lips.
"I- that's- Steven."
Your heart flutters in your chest. You've always liked Steven; gentle, funny, kind Steven. This feels like a dream.
"I like you too. Very much so."
Steven blinks like he too feels like he is dreaming, mouth hanging open in disbelief.
"Y-Yeah?"
You nod, smiling. Your hands reach out towards his and he gasps at the contact. He looks between your hands and your face in wonder. Slowly his mouth stretches into the same goofy, happy grin you are wearing yourself. You couldn't believe your luck to have found someone so wonderful who liked loved you too.
#steven grant x reader#steven grant#steven grant/reader#moon knight#moon knight x reader#fran-writes
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Cautious Yet Optimistic and Graceful Part 3 (20/7 new ending)
PART 3 (edited with new ending)!!!! (part 1 and part 2)
CW: FEM!Reader, Morally gray Reader, JW universe, Beer, gambling, food, Killa appearance, kissing, soft(er) Vincent, mutual pinning, no beta, Possibly OOC Vincent, we never see him flirt in the film unless you count the stuff w Mr. Nobody, Suggestive content, confessions of feelings
Summary: The Marquis du Gramont invites you over for a thank-you dinner. You try to stay sane.
AN: Link to the poem here!!!! TBH I like the second translation of the poem more but that's just me. (the poem has 1 physical descriptor but I just ignored that). Added more to the ending which I think sums it up better! TY to those that chimed in on how to add the ending
You wouldn’t know what to expect when he handed you the letter, let alone the fact that you almost kissed him but ended up with a burn.
Holding your hand under running water you examine the letter more. The gold wax seal bears his coat of arms but the envelope is made of thick white paper, meaning you can’t see any words through the envelope. It’s flattering that he wrote your full name.
It’s a dinner invitation. He wants (maybe not anymore) to have you over to his home as a thank-you for your help the other night. You immediately RSVP yes to the number he included as if he's going to yank the offer out from under you. Knowing him, he might.
You don’t get to spend much time obsessing over the dinner, normal work challenges and fires that you have to put out, memorizing new names and faces to the scene, shipping some markers back to New York.
It's a relief when Killa calls you to tell you he's going to be in Paris for a few days. You spent a few years working under Killa, you feel that's where you gained some of your reputation.
Killa suggested the bar. It's a nice change of pace, to be in a bar where people can kill each other. It's a big fear of yours, that someone ignores the rules and decides to kill while on your property. Here, people almost expect it. The bar is dark and smokey, but drinks are relatively cheap. Plus your reputation exceeds you, meaning no one is trying to chat you up.
You rest your chin on your hand, and elbow on the sticky table. You see Killa at the bar, getting two more beers.
You jump at the warm hand on your shoulder, your body jerking around before stopping at the soft voice behind you.
“Mademoiselle.”
“Marquis de Gramont,” you reply. You haven’t seen him since the almost kiss, and you still had a few days before going to his mansion. You had started to mentally prepare for the dinner, but this caught you off guard. “This doesn’t seem like your usual company.”
He cranes his head to observe the crowd scattered out at tables and the bar. You follow his gaze and see a few of his guards behind you. You twist back to your original sitting position and find him looking at you.
“I’m excited about the dinner. Did you want me to bring anything?”
His eye catches Killa's frame, dressed in a purple suit at the bar, getting the new round of drinks.
“You're here with Killa.” He deduces. He's more observant than you always think.
“Yeah. He’s like a mentor to me.” You say affectionately.
“He was the one to suggest you for the manager job.” You can’t help but stare at Vincent, surprise on your face. “I know you think I did, but I thought you were ill-suited.”
You can't describe your emotions. Crushed that your crush said he didn't want you for the job you're in? Glad that Killa thinks so highly of you? You decide to tease him to cover up your wounded ego.
Nudging your shoe against his you ask “Is that why you invited me over? To tell me how bad I am at my job?”
“Cleary, I don’t hold the same position. Paris would not be the same without you.”
Your brain freezes for the third time. The gentle tone tells you that he probably means it to be affectionate.
You both turn to the table as Killa sets down two steins on the table, saving you from replying. You pull your close to your seat while Killa and the Marquis shake hands. You briefly wonder how much the gold on their fingers is worth when combined.
It makes sense that they know each other, both are the High Table representatives for their country, but you never put it together.
“Sit, please. Enjoy a game with us, ja?” Killa asks, reaching into a suit pocket for cards.
You balk at his suggestion. “No poker. It took me ages to work off my debt from the last game.”
You can see Killa's four gold teeth as he grins at the Marquis.
“Please excuse me. I have business to attend to. Killa, Mademoiselle.” Vincent says. You watch him disappear into the crowd.
On the day of the dinner, you get ready early, probably a bit too early but you need to make sure there is not a hair out of place. Even if he thinks you rejected him during the cigarette you shared, you don't see him having any interest if you reject him twice.
You need to make sure that you are ready for anything. Your most preferred situation would be ending up in his bed, finally having something positive come from the crush you’ve been nursing. If things went badly, you can always try to avoid him. The city was large, plus you could always let Camille deal with him.
Even though he told you not to bring anything you still got him something. Obsessive googling of what to give as a host gift to a rich person, as well as just asking some people you chat with in your hotel gave you an idea.
You got him lilies, seven of them to be exact. Some websites advised against gifts that make the host work to put them away but someone who had a friend who worked for him assured you that he has a dozen household staff who would take care of that.
His hand is warm between your shoulder blades as he guides you into his dining room. You try not to stare at the emperor-style around you. Everything is large, gold, and expensive.
The table is set for two, with shiny silverware marking your seats. You’re on edge, trying to figure out if this is a date under the cover of a thank-you dinner, or just that. A dinner thanking you for doing your job.
He pulls out your chair for you and waits for you to sit before going over to his
“How are you?” he asks while waiting for the food to be served. The table is long, but you sit on opposite sides of the length so you can speak easily to each other.
You shrug, before remembering your manners.
“I’m fine, I'm just struggling to find,” you pause, moving your hand around as if you could grab the words from the air,” some aesthetic to sum up Paris for the hotel.”
“City of lights, city of love, art, culture, food…” The examples roll off his tongue, clearly showing off what he knows about his home.
“That's why they filmed The Bad Touch video here.” you reply without thinking.
You can tell you have his interest even if he won't say it. You pray he thinks it's funny and that you’re not an idiot.
“The video has shots of the Eiffel Tower and Champ de Mars in the background.” you elaborate as if that would make your point smarter.
The corner of his mouth twitches in amusement as he makes a small sound of amusement.
“I have a book that will help you. Remind me after our dinner. How is your hotel?” He takes a sip of his wine.
“Amazing, as usual. We have a mafia man staying for the week, he booked two rooms. One for him and his wife, the other for his mistress! On different floors, of course.”
This made him laugh, finally allowing for a comfortable conversation to start to flow.
His library is gorgeous. As with him and everything in his home, it's grand and highly decorated in hues of gold. Books are arranged neatly on shelves around the room, and a few scattered chairs and tables for reading or taking notes. It looks like it's hardly used, or just kept in very pristine condition.
His excitement was obvious in the way he held himself, his hands not inside his pockets, but instead held tightly by his arms. He scans his bookshelves on a mission, ready to find you a specific book. You take in the titles at a more leisurely pace, looking for something you may have read.
The Marquis makes a noise of excitement, long legs carrying him over to where you are still looking at fiction.
“Les Fleurs du Mal. I think you will find it helpful,” he says, placing a thick hardcover in your outstretched hand.
You run a finger of your free hand over the cover, the title and the image of a flower embossed in gold on the hardcover.
“It’s a bilingual version. You can keep it.”
Now he's giving you gifts, you think. If he does see you as a friend it must be a good one
“This is,” you pause to search for a word. A pity gift? Flirting? “Very kind” you finish.
He hums and steps closer until his chest rests against your back while he gently takes the book out of your hands, leafing through the poems until he sees the one he wants.
You feel like you're going to combust. All you can smell is his cologne and feel him. You pray he didn't notice how your breath hitched as his arm brushed yours to get the book.
Vincent holds the page open in front of you. It's lowered to your height, but he can still see over your shoulder. You can't help but stare as his nimble fingers flick through the pages.
“The introduction explains the industrialization of Paris. The rest are poems. Some were banned for immorality when first published.” His voice is quiet, not needing to be loud given how close his lips are to your ear.
You glance down, thankful to have something to focus on other than how close he is to you and how badly you want him. One page has the original French version, Ciel Brouillé and its sister page has an English translation, Cloudy Sky. It's just four stanzas. You can get through this without making a fool of yourself. It's a short poem about a gray day.
Until it's not. He reads the French version slowly as if he wants to savor the words. The English translation is making your face hot, as the poem describes a seductive but harsh woman, and what it would be like to be intimate with her.
The poem finished, he looks at your side profile, trying to judge your reaction.
“What do you think?” he asks, voice softer since he is right at your ear.
All you can think about is your crush. You twist in his hold, now standing face to face. His arms cage you in, and Les Fleurs du Mal now digs into your back. He's looking at you while waiting for your answer.
“It's a poem.” you manage.
“Yes.”
Amusement is written over his face, you could only dream of being that composed. You bring your arms to hold onto his biceps. You fucked your chance to kiss him before you’re not doing to do it again.
You make a show of eyes flicking down to his lips and back up to meet his eyes in a silent notice of what you want. You feel his arms move under your hands then feel relief at the book no longer digging into your back. One of his hands moves to your face, giving you flashbacks about the last time you two were in a similar position.
With nothing around to burn you, it's the right time to make the final move. You quickly press your lips to his, probably a bit more forceful than you intended.
He pulls back slightly, using his hand to maneuver your face for a better angle.
“Finally.” he breathes into your mouth.
You don’t know why he called you graceful over dinner all those months ago. Now you’re all excitement mixing with nerves and incredibly turned on.
Vincent is more smooth, walking backwards with his hands pulling you by your hips. He's telling you how pretty you look, and how much he likes your perfume while settling into the plush couch. He pulls you down so your legs are bracketing his. Each complement makes your face burn hot.
Resting all your weight on your knees you hesitate to fully sit in this lap. As badly as you want this, you don’t think that you could put your heart back together if this was a one-time thing.
“Vincent, I uh” you elect to use his first name not his title. “I can’t do this if it's a one-time thing.”
He brings a hand to your face, moving your chin so you’re looking into his eyes.
“Cherie, do you know how often I visited the Continental before your management?”
You frown slightly, unsure where he is going to go with this.
“Never. I can do everything the hotel offers myself.”
His hand moves to your lower back as he sits upright to take off his suit jacket. You help as he switches hands, always have one of your lower back. You gingerly lay it over the back of the couch before resting your hands on his shoulders, having fully settled onto him.
“Do you know how often I go to that fucking disgusting bar before you started going?”
“Never?” you venture.
“Once,” he admits. “But when I was younger.”
You want to pry on what he means by that but it's not the time.
“You’re smart. Why would I do all of this?”
You want to have a good answer, to not seem like you’re full of yourself. From what you heard about him, he would appreciate your directness more.
“For me?”
“Oui.”
It's a massive boost to your ego. The most powerful man in Paris, probably all of France, says that he goes to a bar he hates just to see you.
“What about you? Did you wear this for me, mon amour?” he asks, hand moving over your thigh.
Your emotions are running high. Between his confession and actions, you’re more confident than normal.
“You should see what's underneath.”
His eyes snap to your face, delighted in your boldness.
The Marquis hooks a finger in your shirt, pulling the collar away from your body. He peers down the front of your shirt before looking back at your face.
“Pretty.”
You make a mental note to reclassify how you thought he would act in a romantic context. Still a bit annoying but charming too.
#marquis de gramont x reader#marquis vincent de gramont x reader#the marquis de gramont x reader#whhoooo okay new ending#I think its better anyway it starts right after R kisses him
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The Confession | The Group Chat | Pt.1
In this the group boys or readers confess their feelings/start dating. THANK YOU ALL FOR LIKING MY SILLY LITTLE STORIES <33
Isaac- It has been days since people started shipping you and Isaac. It's not that you were embarrassed by the thought of being with Isaac, but you were embarrassed by what he might think of you. For the past week you would try to either make yourself look busy or try to fill your schedule as much as possible, so you didn't have to face Isaac. This morning you had seen the boys leave to go film a blog and you had thought Isaac went with them, but it turns out that Isaac wasn't feeling well and stayed behind. "Hey, is it okay if I come in?" It was Isaac peeking his head into your room "sure" you kept your eyes on your computer so you wouldn't start getting nervous facing him. Isaac wanders around your room, glancing at your screen from time to time to see what you were doing. you just pretended to work on stuff until Isaac turned your chair around "I know why you've been ignoring me and i don't like it" "you do?" you said nervously asking him "no. I don't know, but I don't like it, "Isaac said sickly. you were fighting yourself inside trying to decide if you should tell him or not "so after i read that fic one of our fans made and seeing the edits i got embarrassed, and i don't mean by our fans but because of what you might think if i do have feelings for you". he stared at you trying to figure out what to say, "you like me" Isaac said looking at you with the biggest smile on his face "well yeah?". another minute had passed but this time Isaac was just smiling at you the whole time "do you want maybe wanna go out" Isaac asked like an excited schoolgirl, you couldn't help laughing at his goofiness. "I would love to, but don't tell no one i don't want people to know" "sure thing" Isaac exclaimed while running out the door to go call nick and tell him.
Softwilly-After that night Nick had devoted his life to try and get close to you, and he was doing a pretty good job. you and him almost hung out every day and whenever you were out in public people thought you were a couple. Earlier that day you had called Nick to see if he could help you pick out some furniture from Ikea; after you guys messed around in the store you guys had gotten some food and headed back to your apartment. "Oh, hey i forgot to tell you about ralph" you said looking for you keys, after saying the name ralph nick had felt the "y/n I'm sorry but i need to tell you something before we go in" you stopped looking for your keys to see that nick looked nervous and was trying to hype himself up to tell you. "The day i had met you i thought you were the coolest person and when i spend more time with you i started to like you more. I don't care if you don't like me or about your boyfriend Ralph. I just want to let you know that I want to be with you more than friends. ``. you stared at nick trying to find something to say but you were mostly confused on why he thinks you're dating your dog? You finally grabbed your keys out and unlocked the door while Nick just stood there trying to find a response in your face; once you opened the door Ralph had run out and tried to jump onto you and nick. "This is Ralph and he's the sweetest boy ever" you smiled at Nick while he looked confused but yet satisfied that Ralph was a dog and not a person. "Now about your little speech, I like you too Nick and I think it would be great if we could be something more than friends. '' You took your bags from his hand and whistled at Ralph to get into the apartment. "Oh yeah. yeah, that would be great if you would li-" you cut nick off by giving him a kiss on the cheek "goodnight nick, text me in the morning" you gave him a smile and walked into your home leaving nick stunned and swooping in your hallway.
Tanner- After winning discord Batchelor you and tanner kept in touch through a text here and there or doing videos together. you loved talking to tanner no matter what mood you were in or what happened in your day he always gave you something to smile about. you live in Dallas Texas and was in Austin to check out some stores; while being in Austin you texted tanner to see if he wanted to have lunch together which he said yes to. You guys sat down at an outside burger place and started to talk; after small talk the conversation of tanner liking you came up. "I mean it's just a little crush, it's not like I'm totally obsessed with you and have a picture of you on my while" "Damn I was kinda hoping you did." You guys shared a laugh, but you weren't lying you kinda wish he did. "It's okay tanner I don't mind you having a crush on me since I have one on you" you said trying to play it cool, he looked around and pointed at himself making sure you're talking to him "yes dum dum I'm talking to you". you guys just sat there at smiled at each other to see who would ask first "so do you wanna you know be the girlfriend to my boyfriend" tanner asked while curling the long hair stand, he didn't have to make is question goofier "of course, who would ever say no to the great tanner". you guys broke out into a laugh and just smiled like idiots at each other; after a few seconds tanner whipped out his phone and took a picture of you and asked you permission to post it which you okayed. After your little lunch date, you went home and showered from being in the Texas heat. Once you sat down to look at your phone you saw people freak out over tanners Instagram post of the picture, he took of you earlier with the caption "first date kinda nervous". you couldn't help but be so happy that you got this man to date you.
#isaacwhy#larry croft#softwilly x reader#tgc#the group chat#the group chat podcast#tooyumi#yumi tgc#yumi#yumi x reader#bigt x reader#bigt#softwilly
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oh my gooood tell me about cross my heart (def not bc I'm a med student nyehehehe) (ok it may be bc of it but shh)
Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then post a little snippet or tell them something about it.
Bestieeee thank you for ask!!
Below is the scene that came to me that started the whole idea for this fic (sorry, it doesn't have any medic-y stuff but it's in rest of the story I promise). I have this multi-part fic about 70% finished before edits so hopefully y'all will get it sometime later this fall. (and yes there is PLENTY of spice 🌶️)
Snippet below the cut
As always, my work is intended for 18+ audiences even if there are no explicit sexual content.
18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
“I would sleep with your brothers… if you weren’t an option.” You had convinced the sniper to come out and enjoy the planet’s temperate night air and conversation, but now it’s silent, the only sound of the fire crackling between the two of you.
Folding his arms across his chest, Crosshair grumbles, “Don’t say things you don’t mean, it looks terrible on you.” The usual tit for tat the two of played had taken a rather sudden turn and he didn’t like it one bit. Especially not when it concerned you fucking one of his vode.
“Who said I don’t mean it?” you shoot back, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively at the sniper seated across from you.
“Lying looks even worse,” he retorts, “I know my brothers are the more attractive options, Hunter with his handsome looks or Wrecker with his muscles and good nature. Even Tech and Echo are the caring kind of boys you girls go after.”
“And what about you?”
“What about me?”
Rolling your eyes, you lean on one arm to look at him. “It’s not like you haven’t had your fair share of women, Cross.”
Looking away, his tongue moves his toothpick to the opposite corner of his mouth. “That’s different. The bunk bunnies who didn’t get to my brothers first got stuck with me.”
“Quite the pity party you’re having over there for someone with a beautiful woman all to himself,” you snort and his eyes dart back to yours.
“You’re either pitifully desperate or a rather unconvincing whore.” With that, Crosshair flicks his toothpick into the fire and leans back into the night's shadow, sure that he’s landed a blow that will put you off him. No use in entertaining your little game any further, especially not with the way the moonlight is hitting your eyes and the fire is making your skin glow ever so beautifully.
The smirk you give him over the fire tells him that you’ve seen right through him, however, and he hates it. Hates that you refuse to be pushed away and hates that you’re even giving him any semblance of hope. Oh, how he wishes he could hate you too.
Leaning forward with your elbows on your knees, you call out to him. “Oh come on Crosshair, don’t be such a grump. Let a girl give you a compliment.” You flutter your lashes at him as a flirtatious grin plays across your lips.
Those lips… "I’d rather get a blowjob, at least then I’d get something real out of it," he replies flatly in another attempt at dissuading you.
The way you toss your head back and laugh nearly makes him snap. “Well if you won’t listen, then I won’t tell you what I think about you… handsome.” With a wink at slender man, you pick yourself up and slide your coat up your shoulders as you move around the fire to head back to the ship. As you pass him, you let your fingertips brush his shoulder. “Night, Crosshair.”
He tries, he really tries. He tries to let you slip away back to the ship, leaving him alone and his pride intact. He tries, but he fails.
Without glancing up, his hand shoots up to grab your wrist, keeping you at his side. “Wait.” He feels you still at his side, silent and expectant. “What were you going to say… about me?” he grits out, his jaw clenching as if to prevent the words from leaving this throat.
If he had had the balls to look up and meet your eyes, he would have seen their tender sheen and the soft smile curling your lips. But he doesn’t, so he only hears your answer.
“Mmm, well I was going to say that you’re tall, dark, and handsome.”
Scoffing, he throws your hand away from his shoulder in disgust. He knew it, he kriffing knew you were just leading him on, riling him up for a joke. “Fuck off.” Why couldn’t he just shut you out like everybody else?
You reach back down and place your hand firmly on his shoulder. “Oh, come on, Cross, lighten up, I’m joking.”
Attempting to shrug your hand off, he answers with only stone-cold silence. When you tighten your grip, he shoots a venomous glance up at you. Before he can speak, however, you continue, “What I actually was going to say is that… well…” Your eyes search the stars for your next words as your teeth take your bottom lip.
The sudden shift to uncertainty in your tone gives him the opportunity to cut you off—he's not making the same mistake twice. “Don’t bother wasting your breath coming up with a lie. Save it for someone stupid enough to believe you.”
“Oh, for Maker’s sake, Cross!” you exclaim, giving him an exasperated shove. “What I was going to say is that I really do think you’re handsome, you’re tall and strong and smart… and the way your eyes see everything… and your voice, that kriffing voice alone.”
His eyes burn into you, searing your flesh like they could brand you, searching for the smallest hint of insincerity. He desperately wants to believe you, believe that you would ever desire him the way he desires you. Or even, if he were truly honest with himself, believe that you could see him as someone worthy of your affection as well as your body. He wants to believe it all, but he can’t. He won’t. He’s not worth it anyways.
Crosshair stares down at his boots and pushes your hand off his shoulder. “Goodnight.”
Though his ears are not as good as Hunter’s, he hears the small disappointed sigh you let out. Good, misery loves company. You and his happiness stood just within reach, which meant it would all be taken from him the second he acknowledges it.
“I wish you would believe me,” you sigh.
He gives a noncommittal huff, leaning away from you and towards the fire, denying you the very voice you craved. Just because you can see right through him doesn’t mean you get to hear him too.
Just when he’s sure you’re going to give up and walk back to the ship, you turn and come to kneel before him, the fire burning a halo around your folded form. Placing a tentative hand on his knee, you peer up at him with those soft eyes. “Look at me.”
He closes his eyes, opening them to meet yours. Hurt and hope swirl around his darkened irises.
Placing your free hand on his other knee to balance yourself, you offer up a small smile. “How’s this for something real?” You lean in and place a chaste kiss on his frowning lips.
Electricity shoots down his spine, crackling through his bones and boiling his blood. The feeling of your lips lingers on his own even after you pull back. Before you can move too far away, he reaches up to grab the nape of your neck, his long fingers splaying over the back of your skull and holding you close. If anything was ever real, he prays to the Maker, let this be because the final thread holding him back snapped when your lips hit his.
“Say it. Look me in the eye and say that you mean it,” his demanding tone pleads, his fingers digging into your skin.
“I mean it,” you promise, tender earnestness coating your words as you center yourself in his fire-lit eyes.
Like a dark, heavy cloud bursting open, he falls into you, his lips crashing into yours. You let the storm of him roll over you for a moment before you murmur against his lips, “I swear I mean it, cross my heart and hope to die.”
Taglist 💖 @agirlnamejacq @acatalystrising @baufraus @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @andrakass2 @samspenandsword @liadamerondjarin @sleepingsun501 @rescuethewretched @rexxdjarin @ladytano420
some others who have interacted or might be interested (lemme know if you don't wanted to be tagged in the future) 💕 @writingwintermoon @ghostvizsla @erinthevampire @rain-on-kamino @crosshairs-wife @cross-my-heartt
Divider by @saradika
#i debated sharing some of the spice from this because it's so gooddddd#but this will be feelings fic as well as spice so emotions y'all get#zwei writes#crosshair x reader#fanfic#cross my heart fic#ask#ask game#wip
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I almost forgot about this! 👀📌🖊️❓please!
Hiii~~ 💕 Thank you for the ask~ 😌
👀 Do I have any words/phrases I use habitually?
Probably, but I can't remember. 😓 I think I use 'Well,' quite a bit, along with other short phrases to add a sort of casual/musing flavor to the inner dialogue. I know there's some sort of phrase that I'll cap a sentence off with, but I really don't know which fic to skim through to confirm that. 😅 Sorry, my laziness has yet to budge. 🥴
📌 If all your fics/WIPs fell off a ship and were drowning (go with it), and you could only save one, which would it be?
I think it'd have to be Powerless. I could probably rewrite all the others to some extent. They wouldn't be perfect 1-to-1 replicas or anything, but they'd still retain the same spirit. Powerless, however, was written during pure creative possession. Plus, that mofo is like 39k overall or more? I forget. But that in of itself would be hard to replicate and the only reason why I took it down was due to uninformed advice. That I was worried about shipbaiting my readers because I didn't know when Hinata was going to show up, so I just took it down like that was going to be okay. 🤦♀️ As if I could repost it in a matter of weeks and nothing would be lost. Lesigh. I'm still totally fond of it. There are some changes I want to make when I work on the rest of the re-upload, but Naruto's childhood in the first chapter was my favorite thing to write and I could never replicate the same feelings, I don't think. Even if I listen to the playlist I made for it. It'd help but never be the same.
🖊 What is the most recent line you've written?
I haven't written anything new yet since my Witchcraft AU. 😅 I wish. Yoga AU is top of my list. I think it's gonna be really long, but I'm looking forward to it. I feel like I have a better understanding of oneshots now. Hmmm, y'know what? I had this pre-written in my head, so let's just go with this (and I'll most likely edit in the final draft anyways):
"He was exactly like a sunflower. Tall and lanky, his hair sticking out in every direction like radial petals. She's never seen a shade as cheerful as his. It contrasted so sharply against the consternation darkening his face. As she drew closer, she noticed two things: The erratic bouncing of his right leg. His right hand cupped over his mouth, with forefinger and middle finger parted as if something was meant to be there. A pantomime of a bad habit."
Or maybe I don't have to edit this. This turned out pretty good. 🤔
❓ Write an alternate summary for a published fic without using names. (Points if your followers can guess the fic.)
Oh, you sadist. 🤣 Making me write a whole new summary. 💀 I'll just totally go ahead and use this line that's been sitting my outline files for ages. Not much of a proper summary, but excerpts count. 😤
"Pressing himself against her backside, slouchy black pants rustling against her fitted pair, he breathed hot venom in her ear, his hands like vices clamped around her wrists. She could twist, whimper and wrench away all she wants, but she wasn't going anywhere.
"Do you know how boys do it, huh? They take it in the ass.""
I feel like I made that one pretty obvious. 🤭
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karlnapity wedding fic
reblog this please i was sick
i did not edit this have no beta
this is 100% for my bestie soap (not sure if they are also my bestie... lehho might genuinely be getting parasocial out here tonight) @las-nevadas-corporate
please give my friend all the love and support they rock and they like. idk inspiration. dealing with too many los camp asks. love the fiances what else can i say
i knwo this cannot compare to the true wedding and whatever you will write but!! also this is like. not good i am sick!! but alsdo like. thank you for being a friend and also getting me into the roleplay threads which broke my writers block.
if tumblr eats my italics ill eat their mom- oh fuck you tumblr. augh
ill add this to ao3. soon.
ship: karlnapity
tags: little bit of angst, fluff, domestic stuff, marriage, songfic kinda
cw: mentions and references to dream. it is c!dream but dream nonetheless.
Here is Karl Jacobs’ secret; he never looked good in red.
Now, he isn’t going to object to the wedding, Bad did enough of that before Sapnap had to pull him to the side and talk to him about the Egg. Tell him that he respected the trauma and the healing his father needed to do. But the wedding had taken too long to plan and get everything together, and he wasn’t going to change anything. Sapnap looked brave, even as he sweated and almost melted the rings after the ring box caught on fire in his anxious hands. Sapnap is brave, standing with his tie that had to be retied multiple times before Quackity told him that this was the last time, Sapnap Halo, I tie this and you don’t touch it, got it? Sapnap had nodded and Quackity had kissed him and Sapnap always blushed when kissing or being kissed, Karl had watched from the stairs and tried to memorise the moment. The smell of their house, the cool wood of the stair railing pressed against his neck, the muffled sound of surprise from Sapnap.
He never looked good in red, but he thinks he looks pretty damn good now as he tries to adjust his hair, hands brushing over freckles. Shaky breaths, but there isn’t any need for reassurance (he can hear both Quackity and Sapnap talking out their fears in the rooms between, and he is glad they are not alone for this), just focusing on the moment. There is a tint of silver in his eyes, a slight hint of petrichor in the air and as soon as it gets any stronger he will be going over to one of his lovely fiance’s rooms, thank you very much. Magic was not going to ruin his wedding night. He tried to run through the details, but they slipped from his brain like a train going off the tracks and he bit the inside of his mouth, trying to breathe. It was okay. Things were going to work out. Breathe. Memory is generally fallible. You’re only 3 seconds away from someone willing to tell you it's okay. But you know that already. Breathe.
Here is the more open secret of Karl Jacobs, through some contrived magic, he could both time travel and dimension travel, and it had taken 9 months to learn how to do it, an additional three to keep track of his memory. Somewhere along the way, Sapnap loses another life, shows up at Quackity’s base. Somewhere along the way, they find him asleep in a pile of rubble. Somewhere along the way, he got better and closer to people, more grounded. Things got better.
He has seen both Sapnap and Quackity cry, under various awful circumstances. They’ve seen him do the same. There are these constant confessions and pangs of guilt, but every time the voice in his head asks whether it is worth it; when the petrichor smell makes him sick and he doesn’t remember his own name, let alone where he is, when Quackity’s wings start to bleed from disrepair and neglect, when Sapnap’s body is cauterising his own wounds, getting into fights and coming home upset, when the voice asks whether it is worth it, Karl Jacobs can always, always respond with yes.
Karl Jacobs is a man in love, and the disabling nature of his magic will not steal that from him. The struggles of the cruel and ridiculous world around him will not. The itchy texture of the original dress pants he had for today would not. Karl Jacobs was a man in love.
For every, forgive me, forgive me, forgive me that Karl had in his chest, there was a I forgive you, I forgive you, I love you from his finances. For every moment that he needed a pause there was patience, for every time he asked for someone’s name it was given. It wasn’t that it was easy- (but this love came to him like breathing, affection blooming in his chest despite it all like a particularly resistant weed. Tommy told him something about weeds being important to the ecosystem, and the classification only really applied to outside disruption like farming or invasive species), but it wasn’t that it was hard either. It had taken time, and talking about feelings and having to relearn that Quackity was in fact allergic to lemons 3 times before it stuck… then having to apologise because Karl giving Quackity things with lemons so often had made him genuinely start to believe that Karl was trying to kill him, or at the very least didn’t want him around-
They had toughed out those conversations and been vulnerable. Karl Jacobs would do it all again for these men. Sapnap would burn the eggs and Quackity would walk into a wall while talking to someone over his communicator and he would go over to help and just think, god, I love you. Every time the voice in his head would start, he was starting to build this rich trove of memories to look back on, a litany of, god, I love you. I’m glad we made it.
Sapnap, lying next to him in the grass, telling him that he never wants to miss him again. Quackity accidentally dying his white socks pink from putting them in the wash and wearing them to work with pride. Baking with George and Tina. They made it work. They could make it work. He loved them so much. Sapnap’s inability to cook without burning something accidentally. Slime making up with Quackity, something about being human never trumping being real and being alive. The photo of their faces covered in flour that Quackity printed and put in a frame, kept it in his desk. Nightmares and thunderstorms and sheets on fire, crying and laughing and fighting and it was all worth it.
Karl liked peppermint tea and cranberries. Quackity liked a specific type of coffee liquor and hated most brands of milk. Sapnap would eat almost anything but really only drank water and occasionally apple juice, he had ditched caffeine at some point last year in favour of sleeping more and tried to avoid getting wasted. Quackity kept his clothes in the cupboard on the other side of the room. (Partially because he felt more comfortable with somethings being in his own space and partially because he had hesitated and procrastinated enough with unpacking his clothes that when Sapnap finally coaxed him into moving his clothes from 4 cardboard boxes to cupboards, both of the other ones had been filled already.) Sapnap wears socks to bed, (Karl would personally prefer to die), and finally got a new bandanna, a gift from Quackity and Karl at the end of last year at their anniversary. (The last one had been threadbare enough that one of the three had accidentally put it in the wash after a particularly drunken night, and Sapnap had run around the house before Quackity finally found it, fallen into pieces in the wash. At first, Sapnap had been quiet and seemingly okay before coming back home with ash on his hands and no bandanna. Karl and Quackity held him as he cried, mourning things lost and things stolen, people and places and love now lost.)
It’s things like that, that he is remembering as he breathes, the petrichor fading into the evening. Time is firm in his fingers, his magic is calm and the only thought running through his mind is, I love you, I love you, I love you, thinking of Quackity’s laugh and Sapnap’s smile, the smell of smoke and expensive ink. His tie is red and there is a rose in his pocket and a pendant around his neck from Utah. He is Karl Jacobs, a man in love, who has never looked good in red but does today because he’s getting married to the best men in the world.
I love you, I love you, I love you and I am so glad that we are getting married.
***
George is on his communicator and Sapnap is almost 100% sure he’s- oh, he’s totally chewing gum. Meanwhile, Sapnap is having a crisis. He almost untied his tie (he does not trust George to be able to do it back up and the feeling of Quackity, hands pulling the tie together is comforting in some phantom sense), but he didn’t, instead pacing and spilling water on the ankle of his dress pants and someone will make a dumb joke about him pissing himself in a few years when they go through these photos and everyone is going to be looking at him and he’s going to fuck this up, how do you fuck up getting married? Sapnap doesn’t know but it feels like he’s about to find out, how about going into cardiac arrest during the-
“Dude, chill.” George says, and his gum smells like peppermint and Karl likes peppermint tea and when he screws this up, he’ll be making everyone disappointed and he almost already did that when he was holding the ring box on thursday and-
“I mean it, chill. Drink some water. Sit down. Think happy thoughts or whatever.” George leveled him a stare that could be read as frustrated, but Sapnap knew- hoped, really- it was more concern, and begrudgingly, sat back down, taking a sip of his water, hoping that there would be no more spills from his dumb, shaky hands. He puts the bottle down, trying to breathe, trying to be rational about this all. George put down his communicator, put the gum in the bin and eyed Sapnap up and down. The atmosphere felt tense. Sapnap swore he could smell that stupid post-rain smell that used to tell him that Karl was around but now just felt like Karl getting further away and resisted the urge to bust into the room next door and see whether his fiance- soon to be husband, was alright. Instead he stares into the distance, wondering whether Foolish and Tina have made the kitchen in Kinoko Town Hall explode yet.
“You look great, I have not lost the rings, apparently Quackity also looks great, and Tina said that the reception was pretty much ready after all this is done.” George goes through the list, almost like he’s uninterested, but Sapnap is glad his friend figured out what he’s anxious about particularly. George patted him on the back, shrugging. “Things will work themselves out, besides, both you and Quackity organised this event. If someone goes astray, heads will roll, therefore, things are going to be fine.”
Sapnap smiles, and it’s fragile and tender and full of fear and love, he hums and fidgets at his tie before pulling his hand away, “Yeah… yeah, you’re right, thanks George.” The clock is too loud on the wall. “I just… it’s been a hard year… for everyone, not- not just me so-” Sapnap cut himself off with a sigh. “Yeah. I just… I don’t want to fuck it up.”
There’s a muffled language! as Sapnap remembers that his father is standing outside of this room. He laughs a little bit, drinking a bit more water. “Save your fears of screwing up for the reception. Your alcohol tolerance is nothing, you’ll be wasted and embarrass yourself more than whatever you think’ll happen here.” George says, pulling another piece of gum out of the pack and putting it in his mouth. “Remember the last time you got drunk?” George asked, grinning as Sapnap cringed at the memory.
“Besides,” George said, “These dumbasses love you so much, you couldn’t do anything at this altar that would change that. Somehow you guys revived your relationship, which, don’t tell the other two I said this, but I really did think that you were like everyone else on this godforsaken server who couldn’t make a good thing last. But you did it.” George picked back up his comm, “This wedding won’t change shit.” He said bluntly, leaving Sapnap to sit with his thoughts. He peeked through the crack in the door, seeing most of the seats filled out, even Wilbur had made it there… somehow… he was pretty sure Karl had something to do with that but really he just wanted to let it be.
The week leading up to the wedding had felt like a disaster, from Sapnap literally lighting the sheets on fire from a nightmare, something had hadn’t done since he was just a kid, to Karl having a panic attack in the bathroom about not being able to put a name to Fundy and Tubbo, (the next day, people inexplicably had little name tags made of masking tape and permanent marker), to Quackity passing out in his office after filing paperwork which meant really, nothing. It had felt like a disaster, but every time someone would be there to go through the rubble and they made it out, jokes about sheets and Quackity taking Sapnap out to the store where they bought all the masking tape and a day where they mainly just stayed inside and rested. They had made it, they would continue to make it.
Sapnap drank a bit more water, the bottle practically empty, someone testing the microphones outside and making them absolutely screech, but people seemed to take it ood naturedly. George left the room with the new ring box Tommy had made, while complaining about the finicky stitches every second of the way, going to stand up in front of the crowd. People were whispering, but the space filled up with the
Marry You, by Bruno Mars started blasting out of the speakers before a rushed squeak of sorry as it was turned down to a slightly more reasonable volume. They had set it up, Karl would come from the left, Sapnap would come from the right and Quackity was coming right through the middle. Pushing through the back, fingers grasping at the curtains, palms sweaty, he got a glimpse of Karl, positioned across the room, who smiles at him, giving a little wave like Sapnap is still a spectator at the duel between Dream and Techno, and Karl is standing there with his camera, smiling shyly from across the room, nothing but acquaintances. There is a flash of red as Quackity is still bustling around in the back.
Hey baby, Sapnap mouths along to the song, Karl is looking at him like he hung the moon, and every second is worth it, I think I wanna marry you.
He is Sapnap Halo and he is a man in love.
***
Quackity was wearing a dress and he hoped it looked good.
Wings preened by Wilbur, who had made it back here via the in-between, Karl had looked a little tired but neither of them said a word, and despite the worrying implications of Karl and in the in between, Quackity was glad that he had made it back for the wedding. Micheal had thrown glitter on them accidentally and instead of trying to clean it, Quackity had made sure that there was enough glitter that if anyone in that goddamn crowd had sensitive eyes, they would go fucking blind. He knew it was going to be an absolute bitch to clean later, but judging by the awed little gasp from Slime, it looked pretty good.
The anxiety in his chest about all this was nothing compared to the feeling of love in his chest, soft and filling and gentle. It was a little bit scary, to have such a vulnerability to his heart, but Quackity wouldn’t give up the little sparks of joy for when Karl came home with carrot cake and it was slightly less dry than last time and he was so proud of himself and Tina, or the affection in Sapnap’s yawn when he woke up, mumbling a “good morning” and sleepily trying to kiss his forehead, sometimes missing and hitting other parts of his face. It was a little bit scary, but Quackity wouldn’t give it up for anything. There was static coming from the microphone. He had his anxious conversation with Slime before, and now it was the final details, taking off his left shoe and trying to make it sit right on his foot, he swore it fit properly just a few minutes ago, looking at the slightly pink lanterns that had an orangey light in them after Skeppy told him about Bad’s… less than positive reaction to them. Vows in his little bag, bottle of water long empty.
Marry Me, the song added to the playlist a few days ago, Sapnap sitting on the balcony after the sheets incident and crying, anxious and happy and hopeful, humming the tune and looking out in the crisp morning air. The paint had been flaking off the railing and there were spiderwebs Karl had forgotten to clean clinging to the edges of the walls, and they sat there together on the dusty couch, letting the song play through. They had said their apologies and forgiveness, their love and grievances. Sapnap once explained that he needed his time and sometimes space, but often that time was better spent with another. So they let the song play on repeat as the sun really started to rise, going from lingering midsky to truly risen, declaring a new day. Quackity had added it to the playlist. Sapnap had embraced him for a few, vulnerable seconds before going back inside, leaving Quackity to bask with the phantom arms of his fiance still holding him. Just say “I do”, the song told him, just say “I do”.
Thinking Out Loud. Sapnap made a joke about Canadians and Karl had walked them both through a slow dance to the tempo of the song in the living room, pushing the coffee table against the wall, Quackity holding Sapnap as Karl adjusted where their hands were, and walked them through it, step by step. He said it was from work, and the smell of petrichor was still thick in the kitchen from an incident previously that week, but in that moment they were willing to let the detail slide, a gentle arrangement of steps and patience. Allowing himself to get swept up in the moment, doing the routine shakily and almost with his eyes closed the entire time, entranced by the feeling of closeness and the vulnerability like a crack in his chest, kissing Sapnap at the end hands grasping at his cheeks, positioning be damned. Forgetting the context and being only awoken from his fragile little lovedrunk trance by Karl cooing at them, commenting on just how cute they were. Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars, the song instructed, still playing as Karl made them hot chocolates and Sapnap, place your head on my beating heart.
The next song starts playing, and for some reason, everyone seems to take it as the cue to quiet down. He can’t make it out before realising it’s A Thousand Years and, oh, people are quiet because Sapnap and Karl have pulled back the curtains. Someone pulled back the curtains in front of him as well. Everything is hitting him all at once, the soft lighting, the piano coming out of the speakers that Fundy made, (Fundy had shrugged, looking up from the wool he was buying at the markets, telling Quackity that he did enough for Dream that anything was possible), the lyrics, something about bravery (Karl had added the song to the playlist and Quackity recognised it immediately, going to mention the… origins of the song before he noticed Karl, with teary eyes, rocking back and forward on his heels, humming along to it), the faces staring out, excited, expecting, bored, people he knew and people he didn’t. The third chair in the front row had been reserved by Sapnap and no one was going to fill it. Wilbur was stretched out in a strange position over two chairs. The music played on, time ticked forward. Quackity was going to get married. (It is the exact same as Schlatt, something in his head remarks bitterly before something else shushes it and motions at the lights, the spark in Sapnap’s eye, Karl’s slightly shocked stare at the sight of his dress, blushing slightly at the sight, the song playing away in the background. He is loved.)
Karl, surprisingly takes the first steps forward, stunning in his blazer and stunning in his confidence, taking deliberate breaths and Sapnap joins him, slightly damp ankle and tie that Quackity had done up eleven times this morning, walking from his side to the middle. It’s just Quackity now. Karl extends a hand and he is flung back into the past, Karl inviting him to join the relationship after a little while of dating. The walk to the front happens too fast and too slow, Wilbur is taking photos with a weird kind of communicator, there are flashes going off and George is counting the rings over in the corner. They’re getting married.
One step closer, the song coaxes, and Quackity is in a trance, Quackity is in love, he feels like he could be floating. One step closer.
The music gets turned off and he is standing next to his fiances. This feels like a dream. Things are being said, I do, I do, and there is a pause and he echoes the same, I do, feeling like the dam of emotion in his head was about to burst. Petrichor and ash hang faintly in the air and he is a man in love, finally getting to kiss his husbands, messy and full of passion and apprehension. George gets the rings over there and they are put onto fingers and his is slightly too big but that’s okay, that’s okay and…
The music comes back on and they have to do photos, but he’s crying, body shaking with the pure feeling flooding his brain, someone asks if he’s okay and he nods wildly, smiling and holding onto Sapnap and Karl as he cries, as Sapnap, a man in love, sings along to the song, holding him tight, “I have died everyday waiting for you.” It’s shaky and unpolished and he’s probably holding a few tears of his own back, voice cracking at the end, they are finally married. “Darling, don’t be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years.” Karl, a man in love, catches on at the end as Sapnap buries his face in Quackity’s shoulder, slightly more smooth and there is a sense that he’s sung this before, god, they’re finally married. “I will love you for a thousand more.” Quackity, a man in love finishes, still crying, happy and whole. They finally got married. He wouldn’t take a second of it back.
And all along I believed, I would find you/
Time has brought your heart to me, I have loved you for a thousand years/
I'll love you for a thousand more…
#karlnapity#quackblr#fic#dsmp fic#writing#quackity#karl jacobs#sapnap#c!quackity#c!karl jacobs#c!sapnap#lehhohgoeszoom
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| His Merch |
Alex Quackity x Reader, Oneshot!
Word Count: 4256
Warnings: None, just some curse words. Fluff :]
Summary: Being such good friends with Quackity leads to the inevitable; catching feelings. In fear of ruining your friendship with him, you kept quiet about your feelings. Although usually good at that, after a merch drop and a slip-up on stream, you prepare yourself for the worst. Queue the incoming call from Quackity himself.
Today had been a productive day, in your opinion. You'd woken up earlier than usual, ate breakfast, cleaned around your apartment, and managed to get started on editing a video you'd recently filmed.
That's why you considered yourself very deserving of sitting down and enjoying your friend's stream as you ate some snacks.
Quackity had a fun stream planned, and had hyped up a 'big announcement' on Twitter, and the whole timeline was already speculating what it could be as they awaited for Quackity to start stream.
Being his friend had some perks though, contrary to popular belief. He'd discussed with you what the big announcement was as you sat on call with him a few nights prior to the big day. It was merch, and according to your past experience with Planet Duck products, it was sure to be soft and super comfy. You were very much looking forward to getting your hands on some of his new merch.
He'd brought up sending some to you, one of the previously mentioned perks of being his friend, but you politely declined. Much to his surprise. He'd asked why and you'd simply stated that "It was fine," and perhaps it came off as a bit rude. A 'no thanks' to his merch that you hadn't even seen.
But you had plans of your own, you wanted to acquire said merch on your own, and support him financially in the process. He didn't have to know that though, so with a small 'Oh' from him as his response, you swiftly changed topic of conversation.
Now here you sat, watching the stream as Quackity explained what he'd be doing with his friend John Smith. Riding go-karts around what looked like a storage unit. You couldn't help but worry as you watched them zoom around, occasionally getting close to crashing, and eventually doing just that.
The stream itself was rather fun to watch, but you kept your debit card beside you. This was in case he decided to drop the merch announcement out of nowhere. And that was exactly what he did. Another perk of being his friend was you grew a 6th sense for these type of things. Always had a feeling for what was about to happen when it came to Quackity.
You watched as the chat freaked out, watched as the notification from Planet Duck went out, notifying everybody that the merch had been released. You quickly typed into your computer, and the internet seemed to be taking its time to redirect you to Quackity's merch site.
After some time, it finally loaded and you began to look at all the options. The merch was wonderful, Quackity had been hyping it up to you (you'd asked for no reveals, wanting to wait like everyone else) and he had been absolutely right.
Most of the designs were new, except for the iconic Planet Duck logo, and were all very cute. You had Quackity's stream playing in the background as you maneuvered your way around the site, finally deciding on which merch you'd be buying.
As you went to purchase, a red sign alerted you that there was no shipping to your location. To which you quickly raised an eyebrow, panic starting to rush through you. Maybe you should've accepted his offer.
After refreshing multiple times and watching the Twitter timeline freak out as well over the inability to ship to several locations, it finally seemed to work, and the payment finally went through. A big "Thank you for your purchase" appearing onto the screen.
You let out a sigh of relief, clicking back onto the tab where the stream was, a small smile on your face. You'd actually managed to get it on your own. It was nerve-racking, when it seemed like you wouldn't be able to get the shipping to work, when it seemed like it'd sell out before you had the chance to buy some.
Now you finally understood what it felt like, the stress of getting your hands on merch before it sold out. It'd been an exhilerating experience.
You relaxed into your seat as Quackity's laugh filled the room. He was recreating bits from Fast and Furious, and zooming all over the place. You watched with a fond smile as he drove around, throwing random Spanish profanities at John Smith here and there.
The funky heart glasses he had on did nothing to ease the warmth that was spreading through your chest at the sight of him. You were suffering due to your confusing feelings towards your close friend, but nobody knew, or at least that is what you told yourself.
You tried to focus on something else, something that wasn't solely him. The go-karts were going pretty fast, and you remembered the scene they were recreating from the movie. Whichever random thought came to mind, you'd focus on it instead, too scared to let your thoughts wander elsewhere.
When it came to and end, you were conflicted. You were glad your heart would be able to catch a break, but you also missed him almost immediately. Sickening, really.
You took some time to reflect on what you'd done so far. Cleaned, ate your meals, worked on some editing, got some Quackity merch, and enjoyed a fun stream. It was rather productive, to say the least.
But there was still some time left in the day, and you figured you'd put the energy coursing through your body to use.
Taking a seat at your desk, you turned your monitor on before opening the twitch app. An alt stream would be perfect right now. After going live and sending out a tweet letting your followers know you were live, you patiently waited for the viewers to start coming in.
Considering this was an alt stream, you figured you'd play some random game and just chat for a bit before heading to bed. As the viewers came in, you gave your greetings before opening a tab for roblox, getting on a random server to play an obby game as you talked to chat.
There was a content smile on your face as you asked chat how their day had been, how they were feeling, your little character jumping around and passing through the beginner levels on the obby game.
"I'm actually in a really good mood, chat. My day has been going so well." You began, glancing at chat here and there, smile growing at the memory of the adventures acquiring Quackity merch.
After the chat was flooded with questions asking about what had happened, you indulged. "I was watching Quackity's stream earlier today, and it was so much fun!" The smile grew before softening as you focused on the obby. "I was also able to get some of his new merch."
The chat erupted into bits of 'friends supporting friends' to 'y/n in quackity merch???' and people yelling that they had been or weren't able to get merch.
Seeing the chat made you laugh, nodding your head a bit. "No because I was so nervous I wouldn't be able to get some-" you admitted, attention now focused solely on telling the viewers about your own experience.
"I was trying to purchase, and there was a line, and then it said it wouldn't ship to my location?? I was so worried I wouldn't be able to get some. But it finally worked. I'm excited for it to get here." You finished your small rant, a content smile on your lips.
Chat consisted of people agreeing with the technical difficulties occurring at the time of the merch drop, others saying they were too broke to buy anything. It felt nice, to see something from their perspective and also have shared an experience like this.
"Big Q actually offered to send me some, but I told him no because I wanted to get it myself.. Wanted to get it fair and square." You said as you refocused on the obby in front of you, fond smile on your face as you thought about how nice he was. He was willing to send all of his friends some of his merch, free of cost.
"Also wanted to give him my support by actually purchasing it, you know?" You added, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as it leaned against your desk. You took this time to read chat, which was exploding with what you thought was a combination of Quackity's username with yours, and 'bffs ur honor!!'.
You smiled at that, hands finally moving your character around. "Really, he has been such an amazing friend, extremely welcoming, always fun to be around. And just.. life is never dull when he's around. He's always been there for me when I needed it and well‐" A pause. "I'm glad I was able to support him in some way." You hummed softly as you finished up yet another small rant about Quackity.
At the realization that you'd been talking about him for far too long, and that he was not meant to be the focus of your alt stream, you cleared your throat and began focusing on the obby game once again.
You shifted the topic of conversation to the video you'd also been editing today, and that quickly took everyone's attention away from how affectionately and fondly you'd been speaking of your dear friend. Everyone was now excited about the new video.
Seeing how easily the chat's focus changed made you ease up a bit, and you were able to enjoy the rest of your stream playing random roblox games and discussing some stuff with chat. It lasted for a bit longer before you finally decided to end stream.
Some goodbyes and after stream officially ended, you found yourself on Twitter. Everything seemed pretty peaceful on the timeline, up until the trending page came up.
Your name was trending, along with 'QUACKITY IN CHAT' and the infamous combination of usernames. A monstrosity, really.
You heard yourself audibly gulp as you clicked on the trending topic 'quackity in chat'. Much to your dismay it was true. There was screenshots that showed Quackity was watching your stream. That meant that he'd heard you talking about him in that sickening tone. That tone that was unnecessarily sweet and fond.
You didn't know who was freaking out more, the so-called shippers, the timeline, or yourself. You gently bit at the inside of your cheek, scrolling and reading all the tweets of people trying to guess how Quackity must've felt while hearing all that. Others raising an eyebrow at how long you'd gone on about Quackity and how 'perfect' he was.
You'd fucked up, that was for sure, and it wasn't even intentional or fan service of any kind. It was an alt stream, it wasn't planned in any way, shape, or form. He'd been brought up, and you'd accidentally spilled all fond thoughts you held of him.
Your cursor hovered over a specific tweet that read, 'want someone to talk about me the way y/n talks about big q'. It was sweet, and perhaps made you smile just a little bit.
As you read it over in your head, a notification popped up on your screen, the discord notification ringing in your ears as you read who the message was from. Quackity.
You messed around with your mouse for a bit before finally closing the Twitter tab, and instead opting to open the unread message.
Quackity
hey (:
You stared at it for a bit, blinking in disbelief at how normal the message came across. Perhaps he'd tuned in during the last half of the stream. Perhaps he hadn't been able to watch while you rambled about him, and perhaps he hadn't been on Twitter either. One could hope.
y/n
hi (:
It showed that he was typing almost immediately after, and you tried your best to calm your nerves.
Quackity
call?
You felt yourself tense at the message. Maybe he wanted to let you down kindly. 'Hey! Saw your stream, and I just wanted to ask if you could chill the fuck out. That was kind of creepy. Maybe never speak of me ever again. Do not perceive me any longer, thanks!'
Something along those lines for sure. That's what probably awaited you if you said yes to this. But what exactly were you supposed to do instead?
y/n
ofc
It only took a few seconds for the call to come through. Stalling wouldn't help, so you answered by the third ring.
He greeted you, and everything seemed normal. The calls were normal between you two, but you were just on edge due to twitter trending and the stream that took place less than an hour ago.
"How are you feeling, Quackity?" You asked with a small smile, today was a big day for him, and you were sure he'd enjoy talking about how fast the merch sold.
"I'm doing great. Really happy that the fans liked the designs and just.. we sold a lot. I'm happy." He restated the last bit, the smile was obvious in his voice. You didn't have to be seeing it to know. Another perk of being so close to him. You had a clear visual image of what he probably looked like right now. Cute smile plastered onto his equally cute face.
"I'm really happy for you, Big Q. You deserve all the success that is coming your way and more." You hummed softly. Everything you were saying, you meant wholeheartedly. There was silence for a bit before he finally spoke again.
"I watched your stream."
Fuck. There it was. You should've expected it but it still hit like a ton of bricks. You felt your mouth turn dry, could barely manage to get out the word, "Yeah?"
"Mhm." Straight to the point. There was a bit of silence, you were unsure of what to say. Why had he brought it up? It was bound to happen, but what was the reason behind bringing it up? To tease you, let you know he wasn't interested, or because roblox obbies are just so much fun?
"You didn't have to buy it, you know?" He finally said, breaking the silence.
"I wanted to." You reassured, "the merch is really pretty. Worth every penny."
"I could've sent you whichever you wanted." He stated bluntly. As if it was weird of you to have gone and bought it on your own.
"Thank you, but I wanted to buy it myself. Let me? Please?" Let me show my support this way, is what you meant to say. It came out softer than intended, and you could feel your heart beating against your ribs. You really needed to watch your tone around him.
"Of course." He responded, just as softly. He'd drive you crazy one of these days. They'd have to lock you up, and you'd never see the light of day again.
"Did you have fun riding the go-karts?" You asked, a small smile on your lips as you wandered back onto the Twitter tab, a clip of his stream now on display on the timeline.
He let out a small laugh, "I did. Did you enjoy watching it?" You nodded before responding, "Of course. Was concerning watching you crash into walls though."
He hummed softly in response, possibly contemplating what to say with how long he took before he spoke again.
"Did you really mean all the things you said on stream?"
Somehow, even with your own attempts to change topic, the focus was back on your stream and the things that had been said. You wouldn't be able to dig yourself out of the hole you'd dug.
It was entirely your fault, for even allowing yourself to consider him as anything but a great friend. It was your fault for taking the late night calls, the sweet tones, and messages the wrong way. Your interpretations were all wrong and now you'd have to sit here and apologize for practically outing yourself on stream. For letting the whole world know that you had romantic feelings for a good friend of yours. You'd probably made him so uncomfortable.
You felt yourself cringe slightly at his words, already gone quiet for far too long. You had to speak up, even if it lead to a good friendship ending a few minutes from now.
"Of course I did. You're great, Alex." The use of his name was meant to assure him you meant it wholeheartedly. It made the moment feel more intimate, too. Much to your own dismay, yet again. You couldn't help it.
The possibility that your friendship with him could come to an end real soon made you act on your feelings. It left you unhinged. If it was all going to end here, maybe you'd allow yourself to act on impulse. End it with a bang.
"Thank you, really. I know I probably wasn't meant to hear all that, but it was really nice. Made me feel nice as well. And just, seeing that you didn't accept the merch from me because you wanted to support me directly.. thank you."
His voice was soft, felt like warm honey to your taste buds. You could almost hear your heart melting inside your chest, could feel it dripping down and touching your diaphragm, oozing into every single crevice in your body. You'd never understand how he had such effects on you. How he was able to make you so fond of him.
"I meant every single word. You deserve that and so much more." You reassured yet again, a small smile on your lips. You heard him let out a small chuckle, which made you laugh as well.
Moments later, he had turned his camera on, wanting to show you all the merch. You'd asked for him to put it on, since you were a 'visual learner' and had to see it on him in order to fully understand what it looked like. He had playfully rolled his eyes, but hadn't really argued against it.
So there you were, watching as he changed from hoodie to hoodie, moving out of frame to change into the shirts. You could feel your heart thumping harshly against your rib cage at the sight of him. Some looked bigger on him, some looked just right. They all looked wonderful, and super comfy. Perhaps that was simply because they were on him, and he looked so comfy.
He looked like he could give the best hugs.
"You really think so?" His voice came out a bit sheepish, and the light pink that dusted his cheeks was becoming more and more evident. Huh?
"What?" You said, a dumb look on your face as you tried connecting the dots.
"That I could give the best hugs." He stated slowly, as if he was testing how it sounded before adding, "Do you really think that?"
Had you really said that out loud? Fuck. It took acting on impulse to a whole other level. This wasn't something you two usually did, but I guess it was okay since everything might be ending soon. Ballsy moves.
"Yeah. You make the merch look so cozy." Your throat felt dry, eyes glued to his face, wanting to catch every single second of his reaction. Wanting to see each movement of his facial muscles, to find out what it could possibly entail. "Makes me wonder what your hugs feel like." You admitted.
Your eyes scanned the entirety of his face, perking up slightly at the sight of his face flushing, leaving him with the softest tint of pink to spread across his cheeks, almost matching his pretty lips. What the hell did that even mean?
"Maybe you won't have to wonder for too long. With guidelines being lifted and all." The line. Blurred at that very moment, for sure. His eyes were glued to you as well, which only made you hesitate every single movement you could think of doing at that moment.
"And in the meantime? What am I supposed to do?" Risky. Crossing lines, jumping over hurdles. This all had to be against friend rules or something. You could feel your sanity decreasing each second this call went on. But he wasn't stopping any of this either.
"I could send you a hoodie." The sentence brought you out of your Quackity-induced haze, making you quickly shake your head. What? Before you could protest or ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, he explained.
"My hoodie. Y'know. Mine. One I wear. You can give it back when we meet up, perhaps."
Your mouth went dry again, shocked at the domestic feeling it gave. He was suggesting he send one of his hoodies. It would smell like him. It was the closest thing to giving him an actual hug. It would be paradise.
"You'd really do that?" You asked, still in disbelief, but he quickly nodded his head. "Oh." You said softly, before a smile appeared on your face. "I would like that, then."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"I'll send it then." He hummed, smile spreading on his lips as well. Everything going on was making you feel dizzy. It felt so surreal.
You'd mentally prepared yourself for the worst, but instead were met with a flirtatious Quackity. He'd said sweet things to you before, but you never allowed yourself to take it seriously, not wanting to get your hopes up. And it never went to this extent.
It seemed he realized what just went down, a loud laugh escaping his lips. "Holy shit. You're gonna have one of my hoodies soon."
"I am." You chimed in, smile on your lips as well.
"And you'll wear it around." He added.
"I will."
"You'll look good, as always."
You could feel the heat rush to your face. What was going on? Was this real, or just a very cruel dream? Alex Quackity was fucking flirting with you.
"Are you flirting with me?" Bewildered tone, raised eyebrows. Your brain couldn't even begin to progress what was being said.
"What the fuck does it look like I've been doing?"
"Have you really?" Warmth spread across your chest at how blunt he was being. The line was gone. It'd been erased, never to be seen again. There was no shame in him. Admitting he was flirting with his whole chest.
"I have. Why are you so surprised though? I've subtly flirted with you before.. and I mean, were you not confessing your undying love to me on stream?" He raised a brow, feigned confusion on his face. He was teasing. You let out a groan, covering your face with your hands as he let out a laugh.
Surreal. He confessed to having flirted with you in the past. So you weren't delusional, nice to know. "Are you done?" You asked, face still covered by your hand in shame.
"I saw a tweet that was saying they felt like third wheels since I was in chat, and you were just going on about everything you liked about me." You kept your face covered. He was not stopping. Now he was the unhinged one.
He was visibly scrolling through the timeline at this point. "Oh, and one saying they want what we have. What do we have?"
You finally uncovered your face. "I don't know. Whatever the fuck this is, I guess?"
"Well, what is this?"
"Mm... whatever you want it to be." You finally answered, and there was a surprised look plastered on his face at that.
"Whatever I want?"
"Yeah." You paused. Would he regret this after he got out of this haze? What if it had just been flirting for fun? But he wouldn't play with your feelings like this, would he?
Alex Quackity was perfect though, and perhaps he had a sixth sense about when stuff was wrong with you, because he caught on to your hesitation.
"Hey." He called out softly. The teasing, flirtatious tone was gone, now replaced by the softer tone reserved for late night calls, or when everybody else in the vc had left and it was just you two.
You look at where his face was on your monitor, relaxing a bit simply by his tone and the soft gaze he held on you.
"I know everything sort of progressed pretty fast tonight.. but your stream really helped me realize a few things. I do like you, y/n. Not fucking around or anything." He said it in a firm tone, one that told you he wasn't messing around, but still felt oh so intimate.
Everything he was saying was exactly what you wanted and needed to hear. Reassurance that your feelings weren't unrequited. You couldn't believe your rambling on stream had lead you guys here.
"I like you, too. If that wasn't obvious already." You mumbled out, eyes averting before glancing to see his reaction. He had the biggest, cutest, grin on his face. Charming, and extremely contagious. You couldn't help but smile back.
Holy shit.
"Is this real?" You asked out loud, smile never leaving your face.
"It is. All thanks to your ranting on stream. How cool is that?"
You couldn't help but still feel rather embarrassed that he'd heard all of it, but it had brought you two here. All embarrassment was worth it. Especially if it meant it opened up a whole new world of possibilities for you two.
"Very cool." You mumbled, before a smile appeared on your lips. Today really couldn't have gone any better.
#alex quackity#quackity#quackity x you#quackity x reader#quackity x y/n#gender neutral reader#quackity brainrot#quackity scenario#streamer#quackity headcannons#quackity imagines#unrequited but its actually requited#down horrendous#planet duck#based on the recent neon merch drop!#the technical difficulties#quackity is amazing lets be real#confession#getting together#risky moves
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Safe Harbor
“Lighthouses,” the tour guide drawls, “Aren’t just pretty pictures on calendars. They’re a beacon in the darkness, symbols of hope, all that jazz. But they’ve also literally got a job to do, even today.”
His name is Taako, and unlike the other lighthouse keepers Kravitz has seen on this tour his moms dragged him into, he’s about Kravitz’s age, and he’s beautiful. Kravitz hangs on every word, even though a lot of them are recycled from the other tours. There’s only so much a guy can learn about lighthouses. He tried to tell his moms this, but they just laughed and kept taking windswept pictures. He’s almost ready to thank them, though, for the privilege of getting to spend the better part of an hour in Taako’s intimate radius.
There’s not a lot of personal space in a lighthouse.
“You lot seem familiar with the poetry. I’ll skip the rest. This gorgeous beastie has been around for almost two hundred years, despite the ocean’s best attempts on her life. And she’s got something special.”
Kravitz read the pamphlet, but he asks anyway.
“What’s special about it?”
“You can divine the future from all the damn bird shit on the ground,” Taako deadpans, and then laughs at his own joke. Kravitz laughs too, so incredibly, foolishly charmed. “Nah, it’s a whole thing. Every lighthouse has got a characteristic, yeah? A pattern for the light so you know who’s who and where’s where? This one’s characteristic is a flash of one, one-two-three-four, one-two-three.”
Kravitz blinks.
“Cool?”
Taako grins. Kravitz’s moms look at each other and laugh. Kravitz had almost forgotten they were there again. Taako holds up his fingers as he spells out:
“One, four, three. I l-o-v-e y-o-u.”
Kravitz’s cheeks burn about as bright as the giant night-light above their heads.His moms awwww behind them.
“They were actually going to change it, and the community got way upset, like, ahh, I took my soulmate here when we first dated, you can’t do that, so they didn’t.”
“Wow,” Kravitz says, fully aware he sounds like a big dumb idiot. “Love wins.”
Taako snickers.
“Yeah, guess so. Hey, you crew wanna see the top?”
“Oh, I don’t know if I can do the stairs on this one,” Raven says, and Istus nods as seriously as she can manage. “My knees, you know.”
Traitors. Or wingladies? The world may never know.
“I’ll go with you,” Kravitz volunteers. “It’s. Cool to see the view.” He doesn’t like heights. This is a lie to talk to a pretty boy for a little bit longer. But Taako grins and leads him up the terrifying stairs, so...he wins? Taako rattles off more facts as they spiral upwards, seemingly more excited now, and Kravitz tries not to swoon, because those stairs forgive no sins, no sins whatsoever.
“So you’ve already been on a few of these tours, you’ve probably heard all the hot deets, you know, about tallow versus lard and wicks and glass chimneys, right? Fresnel lenses and all that?”
Kravitz nods, which he realizes Taako can’t see.
“Yeah, they’re also in, um.” There’s so many fucking stairs. “Car headlights.”
“Smart boy.” Kravitz gets the firm impression Taako would be winking at him if he could. His cheeks burn even brighter. He’ll guide the ships back home with his fucking face. “So I won’t bore you with all that. But I will bore you with this--did you know magic likes significant places?” He doesn’t wait for a response, mercifully letting Kravitz just climb the stairs. “And high places, too. The grip of reality is thin. And you know, sometimes, sometimes you can see things.”
Kravitz figures if he sees anything funky, it’s probably his body warning him he’s about to pass out after climbing up God’s asshole, but he keeps that to himself. Taako seems to believe it. Kravitz will pretend it’s a real thing for Taako. Gorgeous Taako.
“You don’t have a soulmate yet, do you?” Taako finally gets to the top, and he turns and offers Kravitz a hand. It feels incredibly significant. He takes it, of course, and Taako helps him up to the very top of the lighthouse. The eye of the beast glitters brightly as it slowly turns, massive and celestial in a way that leaves Kravitz reverent.
“No,” he says, editing out what gave it away, the fact that I’m on vacation with my moms?
“Cool,” Taako says, with a gap-toothed grin. “Check out that view.”
Kravitz doesn’t want to look at the view, but obediently, he turns, and he sees the world and the ocean spread out before him, glistening and inviting, and he squeezes Taako’s hand tightly as vertigo grips him by the guts and shakes him like a doll. His life flashes before his eyes--no, not his life, another man’s life, and he’s out on the sea in a little fishing boat, and he’s made the worst and definitely last mistake of his life. The storm is rolling in like a train made of pea soup, and he knows, knows deep down in his soul, he’s going to die. There’s no way he’ll find the shore again.
And then he turns, and there’s a light in the darkness, hope against the hopeless sea, flashing once, four times, three times. His love is guiding him home, and he paddles like his sorry life depends on it. And it does. He crashes on those vulturous rocks, and he imagines he’s gone and died after all, and he wakes up in a tiny bed, a man with beautiful eyes bringing him something to eat.
“I do feel awful about your boat,” he says, in a familiar voice. “But I knew you’d come back to me.”
Kravitz hurls back to the present and almost loses his clam chowder lunch about it, but Taako steadies him. Those eyes, those familiar eyes, glittering like the sea, they guide him back to reality. A beacon of hope, and all that jazz.
“What did you see?” Taako begs, absolutely thrilled. “Did you see your soulmate?”
“Yeah,” Kravitz whispers, so lightheaded and terrified and confused and happy he could just combust. “Yeah, I did.”
#taakitz#taakitz fic#taz#tazb#taz balance#the adventure zone#the adventure zone balance#long post#sorry this is long it took me a bit to get to the point#okay so listen. ive been watching modern marvels on youtube and it makes me feel things okay. tonights episode was about (guess) lighthouse#anyway brrrrrrrr#fan5fics
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can i pls get some cc! techno x ftm(or male in general) reader where they chill on a stream and are really fluffy??? ur writing is amazing btw (｡’▽’｡)♡
Yea. And thank you so much!
Not proofread or edited due to ✨stress and anxiety✨
Tw:none just pure fluff, well mentions the word pain bur that's it.
Yeah hope your guises Christmas was good. I'm posting that at 4am so noice.
He's my lap warmer.
One thing you love about techno, he was normally faceless. Meaning you could just lay there and soak up his warmth. Enjoy the company. Watch him wipe the floor with these noobs.
That was if you were silent. Today you messed up. It was a mincraft stream. You thought that he was muted. "I'm cold. And in pain can you help me." Your voice was tired. You appointment for your first testosterone was tomorrow and you just wanted his company.
"Yeah. Just come here." His voice was tense.
Not knowing why you just casually climbed into his lap, ear to his heart, staddling his waist as you just lay there. "This is my boyfriend. Or as I like to call him my personal lap warmer." You hummed lightly as you looked at the screen.
"He's honestly one of the best people I know. Love him to death. He's helped me so much and now I'm helping him through what he needs." Facecam was on and he wasn't muted. But chat was spamming alot of supporting things.
You never really had an issue with chat. That was due to the fact that you never really were noticed. Then a dono came up.
"To your significant other. Blood king, queen, thing, or God/goddess of blood? Due to your status to our blood God."
Ah.
Thinking for a second you decided. "God of blood. Anarchy for life." You were quick to speak.
"You sir are correct." Techno spoke. Looking down to you. "So how do you like my lap warmer guys? He's amazing eh?" Chat was exploding.
Ever since his cancer diagnosed he's been tired, but he's going strong. There was no reason for him to give up now, you, his fans, his friends. the blood god will never die.
“hey. i’m not a lap warmer only you ass.” lightly pushing his head away from you he laughed. “oh come on you’re warm and comfy to me. let me joke around about it,” with that you gave a pout and rolled your eyes.
chat was booming with the issue of a ship name. “guys guys, their the anarchy parents, or the anarchy dads.” laughing lightly at the names you spoke, “anarchy dads, that sounds better then anarchy parents. how do you feel about that techno?” he hummed slightly. “if thats what they decide on i cant stop it. so as long as you feel okay with that im good.”
chanting through out the chat, then a discord call. philza minecraft’s name was on one of the desktops, one that was opened to discord.
answering it with his free hand techno was quick to greet him. “hallo!” you nodded, “philza minecraft has joined the call. pog!” you spoke.
“ah hello. i had to check in on you guys, it seemed your stream was booming quite a bit. had to check in.” such a dad. “yeah. (y/n) decided to join in and it seems like the chat loved him.”
“i can see that.” waving to the camera you relaxed a bit more, “i havent seen your face before. but i can see why techno brags about you.” ah yes, techno’s bragging, it’s something that happens alot when you lay on his lap when he does stream. it was one of your favorite places.
“yeah. when he does brag im normally exsiting on his lap, either watching him or sleeping. it’s kinda weird to hear it,” you streched slightly. “but it assures me that im not the only one that thinks so highly of the other.”
“so you think of him just as highly? it seems nearly impossible with how much he talk about you.” you could hear the smile in his voice. “yeah. but i dont really brag that much. just kinda vibe here and think that im saying it.” techno was starting up a game of bed wars.
“ha. you’re gonna wipe the floors with these noobs.” you smirked slightly.
“you are quite correct.” techno was fast to speak up, anwsering you.
“techno we’re stealing your boyfriend. he’s ours now.” you looked at the screen, your face resting in a upset look. “im not going to go. he’s my boyfriend and i love him too much.” you spoke.
god even if you werent such a secret now you loved techno too much to leave him. and you were staying with him. no and if or buts about it.
hello people. as it gets closer and closer to my appointment on the 27th of january, i get more and more scared and all. so im sorry it’s take me a bit to finish up my request right now.
and thank you for people who are being paitent with me.
eli out.
#mcyt fluff#techno x reader#mcyt#techno mcyt#technoblade x reader#mcyt imagine#mcyt x reader#technoblade
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Inspired by the @katytheinspiredworkaholic Noir AU mood board, Spencer dating Hotches or Alvezes younger brother in around 20's-40's era when it was still illegal. Hotch or Alvez (who ever you choose) would be some sort of important name in the city so obviously the reader would be too, being from a wealthy family. So it is especially hard for the reader and Spencer to sneak around kissing and stuff when everyone has their eyes on the reader. But one day the reader realises that fuck the others, he is wealthy and so known that no-one dared to mess with him anyway so reader and Spencer would publicly announce their relation ship.
(sorry if its too long of a request)
This got away from me a bit, I'm so sorry. I also made a moodboard because I was so inspired. This was soooooo much fun to write. I love me a good noir AU loll. Edited by @mystic-writes
Moodboard by Me
You laugh lightly as Spencer pushes you into the wall right outside of your bedroom, kissing down your neck and sucking right below your collarbone. You chose to have your top three buttons undone tonight, just for this very purpose. You wanted to entice, without making it known that it was your intention. You got a few ladies coming over to try and talk to you, much to your brother's delight, but you rebuffed every single one of them. They weren't who your heart was truly with.
You moan as you grind your hips against Spencer's and pant out, "We- uh- we should get inside. Before someone sees us."
"Let them," Spencer says, kissing your neck more. "Let them see us. I don't care."
You push Spencer away, holding him at arm's length, before saying, "I do. I care. Do you know what my brother would do if he found out who I shared my bed with?"
You look away from Spencer, who sighs. "Maybe I should go-"
"No, wait," you say, grabbing his wrist. "Please don't. Just, hold me tonight?"
Spencer smiles and kisses you.
–
"Hey! Little brother! Come to watch the show?" your older brother Luke asks you from his usual seat. He's the only one in the club, but that makes sense since the sun hasn't even set yet. You walk over and sit down next to him, and he leans over, whispering, "Isn't she a vision?"
he points to the obviously very beautiful woman on stage, with dark skin and black hair curled beautifully on her head. She's wearing a white rhinestoned dress with spaghetti straps and you think you see her pearly white heels underneath . She looks stunning.
"She's not my type," you say, leaning back and listening to her sing.
Luke hits your arm. "No one is! I swear, if Ma and Pa hadn't raised me to be such a gentleman, I would be kickin' the snot out of you to find out."
You snort when he says he's a gentleman, but cross your arms and ignore it. "I do have a type. You just don't know what it is," you snort, and look over at your brother, who's frowning at you. "You're not her type either." You nod to the woman on stage.
"What do you mean? I'm everybody's type!" Luke exclaims and the woman glares at you.
You snort. "She keeps looking over at Penelope at the bar, making sure she's watching. She's singing a love song, but the only person in the entire place that it's for is your bartender."
Luke's eyes go wide, and you smile and slap him on the shoulder, while the woman finishes her song. You give Penelope a wink as you exit.
–
That night, you walk into the club. No one's singing at the moment, but you met the woman, Tara, back behind the stage in one of the back rooms that had been converted into a dressing room for her. She's going to go on stage later, and you paid her something extra to make the first song a love song.
You were good for it after all.
You haven't been keeping up with the family as much as you used to, but you notice your brother doing deals every now and again, and you have to step in to save him from getting his ass beat.
You take a deep breath and walk into the crowded club, the low jazz coming from the band on stage. You walk over to the bar and order a gin from Emily, who smiles at you and takes it from your fingers before you can grab it. She points at one of the tables where you see Spencer, sitting with a woman, ignoring her flirting. You sigh and thank Emily, before going to the table with your drink, and sitting down on Spencer's other side.
"[Y/N]!" he exclaims, a grateful look in his eyes.
"Spencer! Good to see you," you say, clasping a hand onto his shoulder. You squeeze it and he smiles at you. "Who's your friend here?" You ask, gesturing to her, but you don't stop touching him.
"Uh, this is… uh…" he starts to say, but the woman frowns at him when he doesn't say it.
"I'm Lila. Lila Archer," she says. While you're in Chicago, most folks around here don't have any sort of accent. She however has a southern lilt to her words. She's blonde haired and blue eyed, and she looks incredibly uncomfortable in here, surrounded by both black and white folks. There was also the occasional Hispanic person in here, like your brother, but they are few and far between.
Your brother owns one of the only mixed race clubs in town, only because he was adopted into the family as a young boy. He has the money as a non-white to own and run a business. Helps that his "family" is a majority white as well.
Your grandfather was sent to Chicago from New York to make sure the city knew the Italians still ran the place. But, he likes to pick up a lot of strays.
Doctor Spencer Reid being one of them. No one quite knows what he's a doctor of, but he seems to be a doctor of everything. Medicine, the arts, mathematics, you name it, he probably knows it. It's one of the many reasons you fell in love with him.
"Miss Archer. I've never seen you in here before. Is this your first time visiting my brother's club?" You ask.
She nods stiffly. "That's right. My father wants to buy this place, but he can't seem to put in an offer big enough. Says he wants to rid the city of it's filth and reclaim it for the whites once again."
"Well, Miss Archer, as you can see, there are plenty of whites here tonight," you say, gesturing to the people seated at tables and getting drinks from the bar. "And I'm really hoping you don't share the same… convictions as he does, because otherwise, I might just have to get one of my people to throw you out of here."
You make eye contact with Morgan who's sitting at a nearby table and he nods at you, acknowledging what you want.
"I-" she begins to say, before she deflates. "I wanted to see what was so bad, all the voodoo and evil devil worshiping he says he's seen you folks doin'. But, y'all just seem like good honest people."
You smile at her and stand up. "I'm glad to hear it, Miss Archer. I think you'll find we're a lot more human than everyone makes us out to be." She smiles at you and you turn to Spencer, holding out your hand. "Now, my good doctor, would you do me the pleasure of joining me for a dance? Miss Lewis is about to start her singing, and I heard it's going to be *beautiful*."
Spencer grins and takes your hand. You drag him to the dance floor, where there's already a group of people dancing together, swinging them around their bodies, moving and shaking and laughing.
The music gradually changes, and while it does get slower and softer, it is by no means a slow dancing tune.
You start shaking your hips and kicking your legs and Spencer does the same. He spins you around, almost forcing you to go out and in, and it's perfect. The melody is beautifully sung by Tara, and you smile as your back is pulled to Spencer's chest. He loops his arms around you, and you look up at him, smiling.
He's looking at you with a quizzical look, as if saying, "You sure you want to do this?"
Instead of answering, you kiss him. He opens his mouth and you slide your tongue into his mouth, capturing his mouth in a wet and heated kiss. When you pull away, he has the happiest smile on his face.
You look over at your brother, who has the angriest look on his face, and you raise an eyebrow, silently saying, "Just try to stop me."
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x male reader#spencer reid#luke alvez#noir au#criminal minds reader insert#criminal minds x y/n#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#my writing#my work
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"What did they do to you?" With mando saving you
Summary: "What did they do to you?" With Din Djarin from the prompt list I reblogged. Din rescues a stranger.
Warning/Content: abuse, violence, bruises but not from Din himself. This is soft Din with a complete stranger. Not edited and short!
Paring: Din Djarin/Female reader
"What did they do to you?" The Mandalorian's voice is just under a whisper, gloved fingers finding your chin, the only part of your face not covered with large purple bruising. He could tell it's been a while, the yellowish hues peaking through the darkness.
You didn't move, still completely arrogant that the stranger had managed to sneak up on you, let alone touch your face. Lashes lay against the highest point of your cheeks, lips parted as shallow breath fall from parted lips. The skip in your chest told Din that you were hurt, the inside matching the patches of bruises that litter your body, dried blood matting against your hairline along your lips as well.
Someone had done a number on you and judging by the cuffs around your wrist as you slump over the bed they were done yet. It was supposed to be a simple bounty hidden away in a base of some self named ruler but somehow he managed to slip away leading the Mandalorian having to track him down, he left no door unturned but regrets opening this one as the imagine will always be burned in a part of his memory.
Woman were sacred to Mandalorians, a symbol of strength, nurture the foundlings, carry and care for the future. Without woman, Mandalorian's would seize to exists, Din can imagine the rest of the universe as well. You were tucked into the corner of the room when he approached you, his hands touching your face was to wake you but it was no use.
He tries to leave, tries to look for the bounty but can't even make it past the door way when he's shifting his feet to turn back around. He towers over you as you begin to wake, hard and tall from all the basker, arms reach out to grasp the wall in shock, looking for something to protect yourself with but there is nothing.
He's like a wall when you push against the chest plate, basker doesn't make a sound as he kneels in front of you, hands hesitantly reach for your own, you let out a small squeal, eyes leaving the visor as they squeeze shut in anticipation and anxiety. His hands effortlessly rip the shackles from the wall, a smooth line of static. "Come with me."
Shakily legs that haven't bared weight in days won't allow you too, "We don't have much time before they notice I'm here, if you want to get out of here you have come with me."
There's a plea in the way he talks, it's smooth but desperate like he couldn't live with leaving you here. The 'T' shaped darkness never leaves your own face as you open your mouth to speak. "I-I can't."
Din suddenly feels dumb, hands so softly wrapping around your waist, fingers delicately pressing against the thin fabric of your own shirt. "Does this hurt? I'm going to have to..."
He doesn't know what to say.. hurt you? You already look like you are in so much pain, there's no doubt from the bruising that covers bare arms, dark ringlets of finger pads on your throat and face that the underneath the tunic is just as bad.
"It's fine." No matter how gentle he is there's a dull sting, you bit your lip to try and hide it but it's useless as a whimper falls from your lips. His shoulders drop the moment he hears it, you imagine his own eyes scanning yours as his directs his way to you again.
"Can you walk?" You nod as he reaches for the blaster from the holster on his side, "Stay behind me, they didn't notice me before but I picked off a few so it's any minute they will realize I'm here."
You didn't even get the chance as he's gently casting you behind him, a protective stance that makes your heart pound. "If I say run, you run. There's a ship at the edge of the tree line, go to it and hide."
Despite the amount of blasters that filled the air, the amount of rooms you passed through the man with the armour managed to prosper, keeping his promise to keep you safe. The treeline wasn't far, the hints of grey of the ship could be seen through the gaps of trees. Your chest hasn't stopped moving, pants falling from your lips as you lean against the tree for support.
If it's wasn't for it the mandalorian would never even know you stopped. He turns rather quickly, pointing out the obvious. "You're hurt."
The way you squeezed your eyes with stinging tears, throat burning deep into your chest. The air hurt despite how much your lungs begged for more. "I-I.."
It's breathless, a wheeze as you press your hands against your chest bunching the fabric against your chest. Din's fingers touch your neck, sliding down to feel your diaphragm, unsteady under his own trembling palm. "It's your lungs, can you make it to the ship? I can help you."
"They're going to kill me.." you ignore his words as tears slide past eye lids, the way the bruises contour your face makes him feel sick. How dare someone do this to you? "He said he'll never let me go, he means it. He will find me."
"I'll help you." Despite how much his mind screams at him, tells him he has enough to worry about with the kid. It seems the Mandalorian has a thing for taking in strays. "I'll take care of you."
Your hand finds his own, accepting the offer, any shred of hope to be freed from the prince. The moment you enter the ship, he sits you down, climbing the ship's ladder and in seconds in hyperspace.
Din's hands find your shoulders by surprise as you let out a soft huff. "It's okay.. I, Ugh, I'll get the med pack."
As his shaky fingers start to unbutton your shirt in order to hear your lungs better he wants to ask who you are? What happened?
Why were you so badly beaten? Who wouldn't let you go? But by the way your face is angled up to the ceiling, tears stinging eyes, using his shoulders as support for your own hands he decides it's best not too. The device in his hand is pressed against your chest, the gears whirl as the hydraulics begin to huff out hair. When the device beeps he lets out a sigh of relief, nothing too bad, an infection nothing that couldn't be fixed. You didn't even notice the Mandalorian left laying you softly against the blanket he managed to lay on the floor.
Bottles fall to the ground in a hurry as the mandalorian fusses through the shelf. "Come on, come on." It's under his breath as he lets out a small huff as he finally manages to find the bottle.
It's too late, your eyes are flickering close, consciousness leaving as you slip into darkness. "Hey, hey." Din shakes your shoulders but nothing is received.
He's sitting in front of your, pulling you into his lap so your shoulder is against the valley of his chest, hand knotting between the strands of your hair to keep you up. His other hand holds a pill but also tilts your chin to open your mouth. "Take it please."
There's no answer, he lifts his leg for his knee angles to keep you up right, digging into your back but it is not bothersome at the moment. His hand rubs the front of your neck, softly moving against the skin, applying slight pressure trying to get your throat to react to the muscle memory of swollowing. As your throat moves the pill is gone, he sighs in relief as his own forehead presses against the top of your head.
The pill works almost instantly, chest once again moving with no pain, air easily moving through. The mandalorian doesn't dare move, he holds the woman in his arms close despite only meeting you moments ago but it feels nice.. something he's never experienced before.. the warmth of someone this close. Eye lids flicker as fingers reach for his own that trace the nasty bruising on your cheeks.
"Thank you.." the words are so quiet, but sweet. They make his cheeks red, as fingers press against the helm of basker.
"they won't find you. I'll protect you." Is all the he promises, Din Djarin had added another stray to his misfit clan.
#the mandolorian imagine#din djarin fan fiction#din djarin imagine#din djarin x reader#din dijarin x reader#the mandolorian x reader
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Name and Soul: Chapter 1
Alright everyone here is the first chapter of the series. Apologies for the delay, I had a lot of editing to do. I hope you enjoy it!
@mqgriett
Crosshair x F! reader
Word Count: 3440
Warnings: Amnesia like stuff. Language. Bad Batch SPOILERS: DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU HAVE SEEN THE FIRST EPISODE OF THE TV SERIES!
It’s odd how quickly things change on the battlefield. This kind of change you never expected. You and the Bad Batch met about a year after the war started and with your sharpshooting and other combat skills, Hunter offered that you join their team. You got along with most of the group very quickly, with the exception of Crosshair. Over time, after a lot of sneers and eye rolling, the two of you grew closer. After a particularly grueling mission, both of you admitted how you felt and now the two of you barely went anywhere without the other. You were the perfect duo, with both of your skills combined, missions went without a hitch almost every time.
The group had been called to the planet Kaller to assist Master Billaba. Her padawan, Caleb, you believed his name was, led you and the boys to his master. That’s when it happened… that change, the shift in the air. The troops turned on the Jedi and fired on her. Order 66. Caleb bolted, running off into the woods, sliding down hills with a certain hatred in his eyes that you had never seen in someone so young, so… innocent. You, Hunter, and Crosshair ran after him. The woods were so peaceful compared to the chaos everywhere else.
It was quiet and Caleb seemed to disappear. You looked around and saw him in the trees. “Hunter, Crosshair, I found him.” While Hunter tries to convince the kid to come down, Crosshair aims at the kid. “Crosshair no!” You tackle him down into the snow.
Caleb runs off, Hunter yells out, “Crosshair, what are you doing?”
“Following orders. Get off me Y/n.” Crosshair shoves you off him before getting up.
You follow him, an angry look on your face. “What the hell is going on with you?”
“I’m following my orders. We need to find that Jedi.” The man walks off, you tailing behind him.
“Crosshair, we don’t even know what the order is.” You grab his hand, “Just wait until we know what’s happening.”
He turns his head towards you before scoffing, “Fine.”
Good soldiers follow orders. Crosshair mumbled that before Hunter sent you back with the others. When all of you got back to the ship, Tech explained that all the clones had been ordered to execute the Jedi. Saying that they committed treason and tried to kill the Chancellor. The war was just somehow over. None of it made any sense. According to the sergeant, Caleb died in a fall. You all got ordered back to Kamino, offloading and heading to your barracks.
“Hunter let that Jedi kid escape, or do you want to keep lying?” Crosshair sneered.
Hunter gets up, “I don’t like to think of executing our commanders as an objective.”
“An order is an order, Hunter.”
“Since when Cross? You’ve never been one to follow orders, why are you starting now.” You raise your voice to the two men. Everyone goes quiet.
“Don’t act noble y/n, you’re as much to blame as Hunter is for letting that Jedi escape. I could have gotten him if you hadn’t stopped me.”
“He was a child!” You walk up to him, glaring into his eyes.
“He was a traitor!” Crosshair pushes you back before continuing to clean his weapon.
You speak up after a while. “This doesn’t make any sense. General Billaba and her battalion have been in numerous battles, serving alongside each other for years.”
Echo speaks up this time, “How could they turn on her like that?”
“Because of the regs programming. It’s been documented that the Kaminoans inhibited the functions of clones to engineer them to follow orders without any question” Tech explains. “They manipulated everything, Crosshair’s sharpshooting and Hunter’s enhanced sense. And of course my exceptional mind. I assume that we are immune,” Tech glances at Crosshair. “at least, most of us.”
All personnel report to the staging area for a briefing on the state of the Republic.
--
You felt so out of place in the staging area, surrounded by clones that felt off to you. Their mannerisms were different, more robotic. You were drawn back at attention when Chancellor- no Emperor Palpatine began speaking.
....And the Jedi rebellion has been foiled. The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated. The attempt on my life has left me scarred and deformed. But I assure you. My resolve has never been stronger! In order to ensure the security and continuing stability…
… the Republic will be reorganized… into the first Galactic Empire!
“Galactic Empire?” You look over to your team in confusion. Sudden cheers ripple across the room, the other clones celebrating like it's the greatest thing in the world.
--
Tech and Wrecker were arguing at the table. You kept looking at Crosshair, he was acting odd, well more that usual. He’s still acting like a prick, so that’s a good sign. He let you sit next to him, so that was good too. But he kept rubbing his head, like he had a migraine of some kind… so odd. You nudged his thigh.
“Are you feeling well, Cross? You look sick.”
“Thanks for the compliment, y/n.”
“You know what I mean... tell me what’s going on.”
“Just a migraine, don’t worry about it.”
“An Imperial’s been sent to evaluate the clones.” Hunter speaks as he sits down.
“What kind of evaluation?”
“Hopefully not mental. Clearly we’d never pass that… well, maybe y/n could.” Tech nods his head to you.
“Oh I doubt it, with all the stuff we’ve been through together, I’d probably fail.” You take a sip of your water before something catches your eye.
Omega shifts awkwardly, “Hello again. Omega. From earlier?.... in the corridor.”
“Yeah, kid. We remember.” Hunter raised his eyebrow at the child.
Hunter was about to ask about the kids parents before a couple regs interrupted. “Check it out. The defect squad’s got themselves a recruit.” Before you can react, Omega throws her food at the clone. Hunter tries to diffuse the situation, but you didn’t get your throw in so you grab your tray.
“Y/n, don’t.” Crosshair attempts to grab your wrist but just misses you.
“Don’t worry, Cross. I won’t miss.” You wink at him.
“Hey Wrecker, let's show the kid how it’s done, yeah?” You aim before to throw the tray at the clone. “Oops, my hand must’ve… slipped.”
All hell breaks loose and punches are thrown. Echo got knocked out, when the boys got up to go get him, you walked by Crosshair. Here goes nothing.
“Crosshair?”
“Hm? What is it?”
You grab his hand and pull him into a hall. “What happened on Kaller? Tell me what happened.”
“I told you, it’s just-”
“Why are you lying to me?” You pull his hand, drawing him closer.
“There’s nothing wrong with me, it’s you all. You’re the ones who refused to carry out the order.”
“An order to kill a child, Crosshair.”
“That child was a traitor to the Empire.”
“But a child nonetheless.” You retort.
“You don’t understand, none of you do. Just drop it.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t. Crosshair, you’re worrying me.”
The man looks down at you, he looks so lost. “There is nothing wrong. I promised I would never lie to you when I proposed.” He tugs at the delicate chain around your neck, fiddling with the ring that he gave you just weeks before.
You look at him, skeptical, “And you’ll tell me if something is wrong? Cross your heart?”
His lips tilt up, “Cross my heart.”
--
Echo told you all about Tarkin. When you all started heading towards the training facility, the shock troopers stopped you.
“Y/n L/n? Admiral Tarkin has asked you to sit out of this battle simulation.”
You furrow your brows, “He’s asking me to not train with my team?” You look at Hunter and shrug, “I’ll be watching, I guess… Be careful, something doesn’t feel right.”
Wrecker speaks up, “Oh don’t worry Y/n, we’ll be fine!”
When you arrive at the observation deck, you are greeted by Lama Su and who you assume is Admiral Tarkin.
“Ms. L/n.” The prime minister greets you in a monotone voice.
“Prime Minister, may I-” you were interrupted by Tarkin.
“We can dismiss formalities, begin the simulation. Ms. L/n, you will be answering some questions for me.”
“....Of course, Admiral” You stand next to the man, watching the boys go through the course.
“What is your opinion of this team, L/n?”
“My opinion, sir? Well they are the best group I have worked with. Their skills are the most impressive I’ve seen.” You speak as you watch Crosshair take out the tower cannons. Wrecker is having the time of his life by the looks of things. So far so good.
“Switch to live fire.” Your blood runs cold, live fire? What is going on here? You watch the new droids take their place down below, Wrecker got hit and you tensed, unaware that Tarkin noticed your worry.
“And what of your relationship with these clones?”
“My relationship sir?” Your eyes catch onto Crosshair in the tower, moving to run out the door when he almost falls from the tower. Tarkin didn’t miss that either. He turned his head to you, an eyebrow raised.
“Surely you’re aware that relationships within the military are forbidden, especially with these… clones.” The bile in his tone made you sick, you wanted to punch him.
“I’m not sure what you’re suggesting Admiral, but I can assure you that my relationship with my team is strictly as comrades.”
“I’m sure of it then. I will be sending Clone Force 99 on a mission. I ask that you stay in Kamino during that time. And one more thing.” Tarkin turns to you. “Did your team carry out Order 66?”
You grit your teeth, “Yes sir, the death of the general and her padawan were confirmed, was that not clear to you?”
“Only the death of General Billaba was confirmed, a counter report was filed by one of your own says otherwise.” Tarkin turns and walks out. “That will be all Ms. L/n, you are dismissed.”
Once Tarkin was out of sight, you ran back to the barracks. You rush in, seeing the boys, frustrated looks on their face. “Who’s that Imperial bastard think he is?!”
Echo turns, “Y/n! Are you alright? What happened?”
“He questioned me about you guys. Asked of my opinion… and of my relationship with you all…”
“That bastard,” Echo clenches his fist, “He knows everything about everyone. He’s got it out for us.”
You look at Crosshair, “Tarkin said that one of us filed a counter-”
The door slides open and the devil himself walks through, “That was quite an impressive display, Nala Se claims that you are all more capable than an army.”
Hunter steps forward, “You have a mission for us, sir?”
“Yes, a group of insurgents in the Onderon sector. They must be dealt with. Unfortunately, Ms. L/n will not be able to join you. She will be staying here on Kamino while you complete this task.”
--
You help Tech load the last bit of supplies on the ship. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll stay in the barracks until you come back.”
“It shouldn’t take us long. If everything goes according to plan that is.” Tech says.
You smile and walk down the ramp.
“Y/n.” Crosshair calls you over.
“Yes Cross?”
He takes your hand and runs his fingers over your wrist, avoiding your eyes. “There’s something-”
“Crosshair! Let’s go!”
He looks back at you, apologizing. You squeeze his hand, “It’s okay Crosshair, we can talk about it when you come back.” You lean up and kiss his cheek. “ Be careful, okay.”
“Okay, y/n.” He pressed his lips to your temple before climbing up the ramp. They take off and you turn around, finding Omega behind you.
“Hey, uh, Omega right?”
“Yeah! And you’re y/n.” You can’t help but notice the worry in her features.
“Is something wrong?” You lean closer when the child just nods
“Kamino isn’t safe anymore, we need to get out of here. Something is going to happen, I just don’t know what. But the boys aren’t safe here.”
You kneel to her height, “Okay, I believe you. Something has been off ever since the order was declared. Keep quiet for now, okay. When the boys come back, we’ll figure something out.” Omega nods and runs off to Nala Se.
--
“Y/n!” Omega rushes into the barracks.
“Omega! What are you doing here?” You walk up and close the door. “Oh hey AZI.”
-“Ms. L/n. Omega, Nala Se instructed us to stay in the medical wing.”
“You guys can stay, think of it as a research assignment.” You smile at the girl.
Omega and AZI are looking around the barracks when troopers come to the door.
“You are not authorized to be here.”
You speak up, “Omega is fine, I’ll keep an eye on her.”
The trooper turns to his partner, “Pack up their gear and take it to the hangar. You two, you’re coming with me.”
“We’ve done nothing wrong, and you are not touching our stuff. Back off!”
The troopers grab you and Omega.
“Let go of her!” You struggle against his grip, then everything goes black.
--
You groan and open your eyes.
“Y/n! Are you okay? They hit you a-and then threw us here!”
You grab Omega’s hand. “Slow down, I don’t know what’s happening, but you need to stay calm okay?”
The door slid open, revealing the batch, they were missing their armor. “Guys!”
“Y/n, what happened?” Hunter helps you off the ground. Crosshair just rubbed his head and walked to a corner.
“I don’t know, they just threw us in here.” You rub your head. “What are you guys doing here, what happened to the insurgents?”
Hunter pauses, “They weren’t droids, they were people. There were children and elderly. We didn’t hurt them.”
From the corner, Crosshair interjects, “Because Hunter went soft, he had us disobey orders.”
“What? Crosshair, they were living people.” You look at him, confused.
“We’re locked in here because of him. First the padawan, then Gerrera. You’re becoming a liability, Sergeant.”
“Enough.” Everyone looks at you, “None of this is helping us get the hell out of here.”
--
After Omega spoke to your fiance, you quietly sit next to him. “Crosshair, I know you’re the one who filed the report.”
“How smart you are, y/n.”
“You don’t have to do this. You would never do this.” You're interrupted by the man that threw you in here.
“CT-9904, you’re coming with us.”
Hunter jumps up, “Oh, no, no, no. We stay together”
“Stand down!”
“Crosshair!”
“I said stand down!” The trooper shoves you back into the cell.
--
As Crosshair puts on his armor, he notices a chain with a ring around his neck. He doesn’t remember who or what it’s for. Help me, please. Don’t hurt them. Don’t hurt y/n.
Tarkin approaches him, “CT-9904, the prisoners have escaped from the brig. Make sure they don’t leave this planet.”
Crosshair tucks his helmet under his arm. “Yes, sir.” Good soldiers follow orders.
--
You tighten your hand in Omega’s as you run through the halls to get to the hangar.
“All right, this way. Let’s make this quick.”
Tech runs to power up the ship, and the hangar door opens.
You tighten the grip on your rifle, “Omega, get down. Do not get up until Hunter says so, okay?” You look up and see him.
“Crosshair, it’s me. I-”
“Crosshair?”
“Best stand down, Sergeant.” His eyes flit over to you. “You as well.”
“Lower your weapon.”
“Y/n” Hunter looks at you. You nod and raise your rifle.
“I can’t do that Crosshair. I’m sorry. I’ll come back for you, I promise.”
One of the troopers fire, blaster shots flying everywhere.
“Omega, go!” You yell out. You glance back and see Crosshair take aim at Hunter. A shot fires, knocking the rifle out of his hands. Omega. You take aim at his rifle when he tries to grab it again and fire. Crosshair shoots up as you run to the ramp, grabbing Omega and throwing her inside. Crosshair kept firing with his pistol, you returned fire, but did not hit him. You couldn't hurt him.
--
After the Marauder got into hyperspace, you sat down in Crosshair's room, your shared room. You fiddle with the necklace when the door opens, revealing Omega.
“Hey, are you okay?” The mattress bends a little.
“Yes… no, I’m sad and confused.” You feel tears welling in your eyes but blink them away. Omega looks at your necklace and points at it.
“What’s that?”
You smile softly at her. “It’s an engagement ring.” You chuckle at the confused look on her face. “It’s something that a person gives to someone that they love so much, that they want to spend the rest of their life with them. Crosshair gave this to me.”
“So he loves you and you love him?” The girl scoots closer out of curiosity.
“I love him very very much. I miss him very much too.”
“How did you two meet?”
You raise your eyebrows. “You really want to know?” The girl nods enthusiastically. “Well, it’s actually a pretty funny story. Before I joined the batch, I lived off the grid. When the war started I joined a local militia on Batuu, I was a sniper like Crosshair. Kept innocents safe, took out droids. One day there was a larger group of Seperatist droids causing trouble, I got sent out to look around and take them out.” You look over at Omega and she nods. “Things didn’t go exactly as planned, and a couple of civilians got caught in the middle. A droid was about to take a shot and my rifle had jammed. So I just ran towards it and tackled it. At the same time, someone shot me in the leg. When I looked back, I saw Crosshair standing on a building, all tense. Well, he was grumpy that I blocked his shot and he carried me back to the ship. After I healed up, Hunter offered me a spot on the team. And I’ve been with them ever since.”
The girls eyes widen. “So you’re a sniper too? Can you teach me?”
“Teach you? What, to shoot?” You look at the girl in surprise.
“Yes! I want to help however I can. Can you teach me? Please?” Omega got on her knees and bounced on the bed.
“I’m not the best-” You sigh, “Okay, okay. We can ask Hunter tomorrow.”
“Yes! Thank you, thank you!” Omega hugged you, smiling.
“Of course, why don’t you get some rest. You’ve had a long day.” You pat her head. “You can sleep in here until we set something up for you.”
“I’m not tired though.” She could barely hold her eyes open and she kept yawning.
“Sure you aren’t. Come on, bed time.” You pick the girl up and lay her in the bed across from you. You tucked the blanket around her and got up to leave, but she tugged on your hand. “Y/n?”
“Hm?”
“We’ll get Crosshair back, I know it.” She lets go and closes her eyes.
You crouch down and smile softly, “I know we will too, Omega.”
--
Crosshair sits on his bunk, staring at the necklace in his hands. He looks again at the engraving on the ring. O'r gai bal runi.
“What the hell does that mean?” He grumbles and turns the ring in his hand. I don’t remember why I have this. That women… y/n… she had the same ring around her neck. Who is she? Crosshair puts the necklace on the side table.
He rubs his head, furrowing his brows. Fight back! Fight back dammit! Get out of here!
“Shut up already…” Crosshair climbs into the bunk and stares at the ceiling before closing his eyes.
Everything hurts. NO! NO! Don’t let me hurt them again… I can’t hurt my brothers. I can’t hurt her. Y/n, y/n, please don’t leave me. HELP ME!
“Crosshair!” You shoot up from your bed, gasping for air. You look around wildly in the darkness. I heard him. I swear I heard him.
A small voice calls out, “Y/n? Are you okay?”
“I- Yeah, I’m alright, just had a bad dream. Go back to sleep Omega.”
You lie back down in your bed and grab your necklace, moving it around in your hand. We’ll find you Crosshair, we’ll bring you home.
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Drown In My Desire
also on ao3
written for the Monster March prompt list
prompt: siren
pls see ao3 for the full list of tags, this is... something
edit: some formatting got fucked up and I had to make some adjustments, sorry if there are any wonky bits now 😅
Geralt is barely off the boat back from Skellige when he hears about the contract. There's a lone Siren causing trouble along one of the trading routes; drawing the ships closer until they wreck on the jagged rocks of the bay. The fishermen complain loudly about it as he disembarks and as soon as his feet hit dry land, Geralt makes straight for them. It's basic Siren behaviour, likely to be an easy job and then back on his way.
The men are offloading barrels and Geralt keeps out of the way as he approaches the one giving orders.
"Heard you've got a Siren problem," he says and the man straightens up to look him over.
"Aye, we do. You're a Witcher, right? You'll take care of it for us?"
"What are you offering?"
"Godsdamn anything at this point. Things wrecked six shops, we've lost 11 good men, countless hours of labour... Name your price, Witcher, we'll pay it."
"Five hundred," Geralt suggests.
"Fine by me. Bring back proof of the kill and you'll get your coin."
"Agreed." Normally, Geralt would request half in advance, but he's dealt with Novigradian merchants before and they're reputable and trustworthy most of the time. Plus, this is a simple contract, probably not even worth the 500 he asked for.
He stays to get the rest of the details from the merchant, then heads into town to rent a room at the Kingfisher. He won't be in town long, but he may as well have somewhere comfortable to sleep when he inevitably comes back cold and wet.
Geralt bribes a local fisherman to take him out to the bay or as close to it as possible - no one will go right in any longer. They moor on the far side and Geralt disembarks, thanking the man and paying him a generous fee for his service. He didn't have to bring him out here, and many other men wouldn't dare go this far.
He hears the song immediately and it makes him pause. Geralt has heard the Siren song before, has even fallen under its spell in the past, and this is not it. This is a Siren, for sure, and he is singing, but his song is... sad. Geralt frowns as he makes his way over the swell of the hill, the beach sprawling out before him in a wide arc.
It's sandy, devoid of rocks and debris but the tide is down and large, jagged rocks break the surface of the water. Waves roll up gently onto the shore and Geralt scans the shoreline, looking for any sign of the Siren. The song is coming from the far side of the small bay, but he sees nothing.
Readjusting the belts across his chest, he makes his way down to the beach and across the sand.
He spots him shortly, tucked under a shelf of rock out of the sun, curled around himself. Geralt thinks at first, that he may be injured, hence the despair in his song, but as he approaches he recognizes a sense of desperation in the tune. Approaching further, he catches the creature's interest and he looks up at him, his confusion a mixture of desperation and fear and resignation. Geralt looks him over as he approaches, not trusting the Siren not to jump out and attack. He knows well enough they're crafty and wouldn't stop short of setting a trap in dire situations.
But when Geralt is within a few feet, the Siren still makes no sign of wanting to hurt him. If anything, he looks miserable to have been discovered and Geralt does a quick once-over for injuries. There are none visible, but as the Siren unfurls himself, stretching out to his full length, Geralt pauses.
He doesn't know a lot about Siren anatomy past what a sorcerer will pay for what, but he's seen enough pricks in his life to know one when he sees it.
Jaskier whines internally and shuts up as soon as he sees the figure approaching. He was trying to attract... well, not him. Not a Witcher. He needs someone to solve his problem, not to be killed as the solution to someone else’s. But maybe that would be better than going through this every five years out here alone. Maybe the Witcher will be kind and put him out of his misery and then- well, at least he wouldn't be stuck here on his own like this.
But the man approaches and doesn't do anything. He just looks, walking closer until Jaskier could nearly reach out and touch him. Slowly, as non-threateningly as he can, he uncoils himself to prove he's not a threat. His cock aches and he's reminded of the fact that it's very blatantly on display, but that's the least of his problems now.
"You're the one who's been wrecking ships?" the Witcher asks and well, yes, Jaskier assumes that's his fault.
He's seen the wreckage washing up on shore, seen the men floating lifeless amongst the waves. He tries to help, but in this state, it's impossible to do much before the burning need overtakes him again and he's rendered useless.
"I didn't-" he starts, but he doesn't think a Witcher will care whether he meant to or not. He just wants a companion, wants someone to help ease this ache as his own attempts aren't helping any longer, he didn't mean for the humans to get in the way.
"Didn't what?"
"Didn't mean for them to get hurt." Jaskier doesn't look at him, but the Witcher is quiet for some time and then,
"It’s... a mating song?" he guesses and something in Jaskier’s stomach twists uncomfortably that he could figure it out so quickly. Jaskier avoids his eyes looking instead at the way the sand coats the toes of his boots.
"Why don't you tell me what happened?"
Jaskier's head snaps up at that and he looks the Witcher dead in the eye. He's never heard of a monster being given a chance to tell their side of the story, to redeem themself. The Witcher drops to the sand, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his thighs.
"I-" Jaskier starts, unsure if this is some sort of twisted game. "I just- I was hoping someone might be nearby to hear-" he feels pathetic, his only consolation the fact that the Witcher doesn't know that he came here willingly, he left his family willingly to go out and explore the vast oceans and now he’s miserable.
"How long have you been here?" the Witcher asks, "you've never caused problems before now."
"Before now I wasn't-" he rolls his eyes in frustration at himself, slapping his tail against the sand. "Sirens," he starts again, "go through cycles. I'm in heat and I'm alone and every attempt I've made to reach out has only ended in ruin." Jaskier scowls at his own confession.
"I tried to help," he adds solemnly, "I just... I can't focus, I don't have the strength to pull them to the surface- I tried," he persists, "but I'm not much use like this." His cock aches and he groans at the timing. "I hardly think that deserves a death sentence." He wraps his tail protectively around himself, hiding the evidence of his situation.
"Not here to hurt you," the Witcher explains, "just here to keep people from dying. I could... help?"
Jaskier starts at the offer, his wings snapping tight against his back. "What do you mean, help?"
The Witcher huffs a light laugh and Jaskier tries not to be too hopeful. He's never strayed beyond his race, though he knows many who have and if he were to, well, the Witcher isn't awful to look at. In fact, Jaskier thinks, taking in his shining golden eyes and shock-white hair tied back in a loose bun, he’s quite lovely.
"Now, I know you're not stupid," the Witcher says, almost sounding amused. "The offer’s there. I'll help if you stop with the singing."
Maybe it's the need coursing through him, or maybe it's the fact that no one has ever been so kind to him before, or maybe there's just something about this man's smile that makes him weak. Jaskier agrees.
"Not here," he says. "Can you swim?" The Witcher cocks an eyebrow at him. "I'd prefer not to have to do this out in the open where anyone could just wander upon us. I do have some sense of decorum."
"Where are we going?"
"Home," Jaskier says simply. "It's not far." He shifts in the sand, sitting up and gesturing out toward the sea. "A human could make the swim, surely a Witcher can as well."
"Fair enough. I'm Geralt, by the way. And I can swim."
"Jaskier."
He squirms in the sand, trying to force his cock to withdraw, but it's no use. Geralt rises, kicking off his boots and removing his gear, tucking it away into a crevice in the rock. He bends down, scooping Jaskier into his arms. It's a shock and Jaskier is helpless to do anything but wind his arms around Geralt's neck and hold on, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the way his cock juts out obscenely, betraying him.
Geralt walks into the waves, releasing Jaskier as soon as the water is up to his waist. He holds his breath, lets Jaskier take his hand, and follows him down beneath the surf. Jaskier feels marginally better out of the sun and sand, in the cool water, but not much. He swims quickly, eager to return home and get on with... whatever Geralt has in mind to help.
He ducks into the narrow tunnel, dropping Geralt's hand and gesturing for him to follow behind. He does, and Jaskier leads the way back to an underwater cave. Glowing coral grows near the ledge of rock, where the water gives way to open air again. It gives off a little light, but Jaskier can see perfectly well and he knows Witchers have night vision.
He slips up onto the stony cave floor and offers a webbed hand to Geralt as he breaks the surface. To Geralt's credit, he only seems a little out of breath as he's hauled up out of the water.
Jaskier flops back on his side, watching the way Geralt rises to his feet, tugging his soaked shirt off and wringing the water from it. His trousers remain in place and Jaskier finds himself disappointed, curious to see what's hidden beneath. But this isn't a fun romp for the sake of it; this is an agreement, Geralt is simply doing him a favour.
When he seems pleased with the state of his shirt, Geralt lays it out and lies down next to him, lining his body up with Jaskier's. He's... stunning up close and it takes more of his effort than it should not to simply reach out and touch him just for the sake of it. He remembers fucking other Sirens, the touching, the press of bodies - he misses it, and he finds himself wishing this was something more than a simple favour. But that's selfish; Geralt is already offering him so much, for so little in return and nothing, even, for himself.
"You'll have to walk me through it," Geralt says with a smile, "I've never fucked a Siren before."
"Oh. You can just... touch me?" Jaskier says and Geralt reaches out tentatively, slipping a hand over the swell of his hip.
"Like this?"
Jaskier nods. It's not exactly what he wants, but it does feel nice and he's not about to try and direct. Geralt's hesitation is short-lived and he slides his hand up Jaskier's chest, brushing his thumb over a nipple and Jaskier's breath catches. He watches the movement of Geralt's hand as his fingers press into his skin, warm, despite the swim through cool water.
He shifts slightly, leaning up on one arm and pressing back down, over the swell of Jaskier's hip and he tugs him forward before abruptly before dragging his fingers up the length of Jaskier's swollen cock. He's slow, but delicate like he's learning his way around, but it feels incredible and it's hard for Jaskier not to just thrust up into the touch and take the pleasure from his hands.
Geralt's fingers slip over the ridge at the base of him, curling around him beneath it and squeezing as he pulls up over it.
"What is this?" he asks. He sounds intrigued, curious, and Jaskier can't help but indulge him.
"'S hard to fuck underwater," he hums, moaning as Geralt's fingers reach the tip of his cock. One dips into the slit, pressing against it, and Jaskier whimpers. "Keeps me from... slipping out." The noise Geralt makes in response is hard to determine, but it sounds interested. He moves his hand back down to squeeze around the ring.
His fingers slip over the swell of skin, pressing against it and running his thumb along the edge. He likes it, Jaskier realizes. It prods at something inside him and he presses his hips forward encouragingly.
"Does that feel good?" Geralt asks and Jaskier nods, pressing his forehead against his arm to keep from moaning out loud. He wants to show his appreciation, wants Geralt to know he can do as he pleases with him, but he doesn't want to push too hard.
Geralt’s light touches grow bolder, pressing more firmly, jerking him quickly and firmly and as Jaskier whines and squirms beneath him, Geralt grows more confident. His fingers slip down, pressing between the folds of his sheath, pressing right down to the base of his cock and within. No one has touched him like this before, the sharp jab of a Siren's claws not conducive to pressing inside.
Something warm spreads through his chest and he finds himself pulling away, embarrassed by how vulnerable he suddenly feels letting a stranger touch him this way, a Witcher no less. Immediately, Geralt withdraws his hands and the look on his face implies worry.
"Sorry," he blurts, then softer, "tell me if it's too much."
"No, I just. No one's ever-"
"I'll stop."
"No," Jaskier says again, a little too abruptly. "No, it was good, it just... caught me off guard." Geralt doesn't wait to be told twice, but his fingers move more slowly as they slip back into place at the base of his cock. Jaskier gives a little thrust on encouragement and Geralt presses his palm against him, giving him something to rut against while he explores.
Jaskier rocks against him, burying his face in his arm as the need takes over. Given an inch, he's no longer able to control himself, so needy for it that he's invited a perfect stranger into his home to fuck him. But Geralt doesn't seem to mind his desperation, doesn't mention it. He picks up quickly on Jaskier's most sensitive spots, going back to rub over them, pressing his thumb beneath the swollen ring and Jaskier's mind goes blank with the pleasure of it.
He's never noticed how sensitive it is there; the use of hands in Siren coupling is rare and limited to squeezing and jerking, not prodding and rubbing like Geralt does so easily. It's hardly Jaskier's fault that he can't contain himself in the face of this new, wonderful sensation.
The swell of his climax creeps up on him slowly, his mind too preoccupied with where Geralt's fingers are and what they're doing. It's not until Geralt wraps around the base of him, pushing as far into his sheath as his fingers with reach, that Jaskier realizes how close he is. His hips jerk hard and Geralt's other hand shoots out to steady him, holding him close as Jaskier writhes against him.
There's not much else he can do like this, just squirm and try to press as much of his cock against Geralt's palm as he can. Otherwise, he's under Geralt's control, letting him do what he wants, take him apart as he will. Geralt's thumb presses along the underside of his cock, pressing up toward the tip and Jaskier jerks hard as his orgasm washes over him, spilling over Geralt's hand and up his arm.
His hips twitch, cocking slipping easily against Geralt's arm with his own spend to slick the way. He'd be embarrassed, coming so quickly with so little stimulation to anything but his cock, but Geralt hums, sounding very pleased.
He continues touching him, fingers slipping through his spend and using it as slick, rubbing down the full length of him and rubbing against the slit at the tip.
"Good?" he asks and Jaskier can only nod and whimper, still struggling to catch his breath.
Geralt leans in, pressing his nose into Jaskier's neck abruptly and Jaskier shifts onto his back to allow him better access. He likes the warmth of Geralt's breath on his neck, the soft press of his lips and the occasional flick of his tongue against his skin. Geralt says nothing as his kisses become firmer, pressing down the column of his throat and down his chest.
His hand remains on Jaskier's cock, stroking slowly as he kisses down the length of his body, not even pausing as pale skin gives way to shimmering scales. He seems unbothered by it and Jaskier likes the feeling of his lips on his tail. Geralt doesn't release his cock until he's moved fully down the length of Jaskier's body, straddling the end of his tail.
Geralt kisses around the base of his cock, not touching it but for the barest brush of his cheek as he passes. Jaskier holds his breath in anticipation, arching off the bed with each kiss that gets closer to where he wants it. When Geralt's lips finally press against him, he lets out a strangled groan and arches off the ground, hands immediately and automatically groping for Geralt's shoulder.
Geralt kisses up the length of him, teasing the tip with his tongue before moving back down again. Jaskier wants his mouth, wants to feel that wet heat around him, so different than the cool touch of one of his own kind. It wouldn't be the first time he's had a mouth around his cock, but he's used to sharp teeth, to slow and cautious strokes. When Geralt gets his mouth around him, he's anything but.
The moment Geralt's lips wrap around him, quick and eager, sliding his tongue over him and pressing his lips in close, holding him tight as he sinks right to the base. His tongue presses in where his fingers had been and Jaskier knows now that he likes exploring, likes discovering what makes Jaskier squirm and taking advantage of it. And he's incredibly good at it.
His fingers that had, up until now, been happily settled on his hips, push up to brush against his skin. One hand remains, seeking out the smallest part of his waist and settling in the dip as the other moves down again. Jaskier's foggy mind suggests that he intends to wrap around the base of his cock, but Geralt gets distracted somewhere between. His fingers pass over Jaskier’s slit and he pauses. Slowly, Gerlt lifts his head, licking up the length of Jaskier's cock and looking at the opening beneath his fingers.
"Can I?" he asks and Jaskier nods.
This is... new. He knows for women it can be pleasurable to be touched this way, but he's never had anyone do it to him. As a child, they told stories about men who fucked each other like this, the way they fuck women, but Jaskier had been young and naive and passed them off as nothing but stories. He'd never found anyone who wanted to touch him that way and had assumed, like most things children talk about, it was a rumour.
But Geralt's fingers tease the opening and sparks rush over his skin. Jaskier's cock throbs and he pushes himself up to watch. Geralt catches his eyes for a brief moment, before dropping back to his work and pushing inside.
"Oh," he breathes, "you're wet." Jaskier squirms, as his body gives way to Geralt's finger, quickly joined by a second.
As with everything, he moves slowly at first, pushing deep and rubbing into him. It feels good, much better than Jaskier could have expected and then Geralt bumps against something inside him and Jaskier cries out, digging his claws into Geralt's shoulder.
When he realizes what he's done, he releases him quickly, but Geralt seems unfazed and he's smiling when he meets Jaskier's eyes again.
"You like that?" he asks and Jaskier lets out a breathy, yes. Geralt grins at him and ducks down to wrap his lips around the tip of Jaskier's cock.
Geralt's fingers work in time with his mouth, picking up speed as Jaskier's groans become more frequent, less controlled. It doesn't take him long like this, with his cock slipping down Geralt's throat and Geralt's fingers constantly pressing against whatever that is inside him that feels so fucking good.
He comes with a gasp as Geralt thrusts up into him again and Geralt makes no attempt to keep him from pushing his cock deeper into his throat. If anything, he seems glad for it, and when Jaskier slumps back against the ground again, Geralt pulls off his cock with slow precision, careful to wrap his lips tightly around the head. Jaskier's eyes drop shut and his chest heaves, but he's aware of Geraly lying back down next to him.
"That felt... good."
"No one has ever touched you like this?" Geralt asks lightly. Jaskier waves a clawed hand at him in response. "Mmm, understandable. But you liked it?" Jaskier huffs a tired laugh and turns to face him.
"Very much."
"Can I?" Geralt asks, already sliding slick fingers along his waist.
"Please."
Geralt rises to his knees, straddling Jaskier's hips for a moment before dropping to the ground on the other side of him. He presses right up against him, slipping an arm under his neck and holding him close as his other hand presses flat against Jaskier's stomach, sliding downward. He crooks two fingers, pushing inside him and seeking out that same spot again.
He finds it with ease and when Jaskier jerks hard, Geralt pulls him in against his chest. He drops his forehead to Jaskier's, breathing hard against him and Jaskier shuts his eyes, letting the pleasure wash over him. Geralt thrusts into him, quick and precise, then slows to tease at the opening, fingers slipping slowly in and out, and Jaskier can't decide which he likes more.
When he's quick, it punches the breath out of him, leaves him mindless and aching for more, but then he slows, gently caresses and rubs into him and it's like a slow fire burning within him, gradually burning brighter. His mind goes blank, foggy with lust, and he wraps himself around Geralt's shoulders, drawing him close. Even with Jaskier wrapped around him, he never falters and before long Jaskier is writhing again, his tail slapping hard against the floor as pleasure courses through him.
He's overwhelmed, so entirely encompassed by pleasure that he can't do more than cling to Geralt and whimper until, at last, he comes, his cock untouched where it spurts over his hip.
Slick drips from his slit, mixing with his come and Geralt pulls out slowly, swiping his fingers through it and sliding them around Jaskier's cock. He cries out at the first touch, oversensitive from multiple consecutive orgasms, but it still feels good underneath the sensitivity and he can't bring himself to tell Geralt to stop.
When Geralt finally lets him go, Jaskier flops onto his back and stares up at him. Geralt is watching him, his eyes dark but bright, and he smiles. Unthinking, Jaskier reaches up, wrapping one hand around Geralt's cheek and tugging him down toward him. At the last second, he realizes what he's doing and hesitates, but Geralt closes the distance, pressing their lips together in a gentle kiss.
It doesn't last long and Jaskier has to keep himself from nipping at his lips when they part. Geralt presses up close and for the first time, he feels the hard line of Geralt's cock beneath his trousers and it makes his breath catch. For a moment, he just stares at him, enthralled by the idea that Geralt is turned on by this.
"You're... aroused?" he asks and Geralt huffs a soft laugh.
"I'm fine."
"Could I touch you?"
"Mmm, if you like."
Jaskier grins, shifting onto his side and pushes Geralt over. He laughs and goes easily, watching as Jaskier spreads a hand over his chest. He maps out the planes of his chest, pushing clawed fingers through soft chest hair before dragging them lightly down toward the hem of his trousers.
He rakes his eyes over the jut of Geralt's cock, but doesn't touch, afraid of pushing too far. A favour, he reminds himself, Geralt is doing him a favour here. So he slips his hand back up to his stomach, mimicking the way Geralt touched him at first, exploring the little dips and rises in his skin, careful not to catch his claws.
And when he looks up to him again, Geralt is watching him. Something in the way he looks at him makes Jaskier's chest tight and he dips down again, catching Geralt's lips in a kiss. Geralt kisses back with enthusiasm, wrapping an arm around so he can pull Jaskier on top of him.
Both hands move down, cupping the swell of Jaskier's tail and rocking him slowly forward. Jaskier's cock, still sensitive, presses against Geralt's through the rough fabric of his trousers. He hisses at the drag, but Geralt moans at the friction and the sound goes straight through him. This time, Jaskier does it on purpose.
They find an easy rhythm between the two of them and even with Geralt's trousers in the way, the sensitivity soon gives way to pleasure and Jaskier ruts against him, kissing him hard despite the lingering fear that he'll bite too hard. Geralt however, seems unconcerned. He's got one hand buried in Jaskier's hair, the other pressing between them, fumbling with the buttons on his trousers. It takes him a moment, but he gets them undone, finally pulling his cock free and Jaskier groans as he ruts against him.
Geralt is hot, his cock even more so, and Jaskier basks in the warmth, pressing himself closer, even with Geralt’s hand still between them. He's sure he could come just like this, happy to rut against him, but then Geralt's fingers are pressing against his slit again. His fingers come away slick and he winds his hand around Jaskier's cock, stroking him slowly.
"What do you need?" he asks and Jaskier whimpers.
"What you did before," he breathes, "could you... do that again?" In an instant, Geralt flips him onto his back again, dragging his fingers up to his slit, but Jaskier stops him. "Could you... with your cock?"
"Oh. Fuck, yeah."
Geralt shifts, pushing his trousers down and kicking them off before pressing up close again. He pulls Jaskier into a deep kiss, his hand sliding away to bring his hips closer. He ruts against him, pushing through the slick and come and when he catches on Jaskier's slit, Jaskier lets out a little gasp and grasps at Geralt's shoulders.
Geralt pushes forward pressing into him and Jaskier holds his breath as he stretches open on his cock. Geralt's eyelids flutter as he settles and then he rocks forward, slowly at first, just short little thrusts that leave Jaskier aching, pushing himself onto him, wanting more.
And Geralt gives it to him. He sinks deep, hooking a knee over Jaskier's hip to hold him close as he ruts, his cock pressed firmly against that spot that makes him wild. Jaskier bucks and whines, his own cock slipping against Geralt's with every thrust. He delights in the feeling of Gerslt inside him, of his warmth and the stretch of his cock, sliding into him and filling him wholly.
He's surprised to find Geralt as breathless as he is when he looks up at him and he can't help but tip forward and nip at his lower lip. Geralt groans and kisses him hard. He pushes him onto his back so he's straddling his hips and when he sits back, Jaskier's cock presses between his cheeks.
He rocks his hips, suddenly overwhelmed by the heat around his cock and Geralt shudders as he pushes back against him. His eyes flick up to Jaskier's and he licks his lips.
"Can I try something?" he asks and Jask nods enthusiastically.
Geralt withdraws immediately, pressing his fingers into Jaskier's slit. When he withdraws, he reaches behind himself, and Jaskier burns to know what he's doing, but the slick fingers wrap around his cock, and Geralt sits back on him. Jaskier groans low as Geralt's body engulfs him, heat seeping into every inch where they touch and he reaches out, fingers digging into his thighs, so careful not to leave scratches.
Geralt rocks back onto him, taking the full length of Jaskier's cock and grinding back against him. He rolls his hips and squeezes around him, pulling right up to the tip before dropping back down the length on him. Jaskier is breathless, helpless to do anything but squeeze Geralt's thighs and bite his own lip.
Tentatively, he wraps one hand around Geralt's cock, slipping webbed fingers over the head of his cock. Geralt moans softly, sliding one hand over Jaskier's and guiding it down. Jaskier nearly stops breathing as the head of Geralt's cock nudges against his slit and then he's sliding in again, filling him up even as he squeezes around Jaskier's cock.
It's so much. Jaskier's body sings with the twin pleasures of being filled so wholly and sinking into Geralt himself as he shifts his hips up.
"Fuck" he groans and Geralt drapes himself over his chest, kissing the moan from his lips.
He finds a rhythm, a careful balance that keeps them joined in both places and Jaskier has never felt such overwhelming pleasure in his life. He meets Geralt's thrusts, thrusting in deep as Geralt sinks into him and it's hardly surprising when he finds himself creeping close to the edge. Geralt's thighs shake around him and he wants to hold out, to make Geralt comes first, but Geralt reaches up, nipping at the sensitive skin over his throat and the pleasure that zips through him is too much.
His hips snap up hard and Geralt kisses him through it, deep and hard, his whole body arching against him. He follows shortly, burying himself deep in Jaskier's body and rutting into him urgently. The moans and pleas that drop from his lips do nothing to ease Jaskier's persistent erection, but as Geralt slumps against him, Jaskier feels the exhaustion creeping in.
Geralt, too, seems tired and Jaskier withdraws reluctantly, mourning the loss of Geralt's body around him. His cock remains stubbornly hard, still unsheathed, but the aching desperation wore off some time ago and he flings himself into the water, quickly rubbing himself down to prevent waking up sticky and uncomfortable. A moment later there's a splash as Geralt rolls off the ledge next to him.
He swims closer enough for Jaskier to reach him and he makes a point of wiping Geralt down first before wrapping a hand around his cock and sliding slowly. Geralt's eyes drop shut and he winds his arms around Jaskier's neck with a soft, shuddering moan.
"How long does this usually last?" he asks and Jaskier shrugs.
"Anywhere from a week to six."
Geralt gawks at him. "Six weeks?"
"On and off," Jaskier huffs, amused. "I don't swim around with an exposed prick for six weeks. And besides. It's usually two, though it is much more in much more... concentrated bursts."
"Meaning I should stick around?"
Jaskier's heart thuds heavily at the suggestion which is, realistically, ridiculous. He's known Geralt for all of a few hours and under normal circumstances, the man would have just killed him. But the idea of keeping him close spreads warmth through his chest.
"You don't have to," he says anyway. "You kept up your end of the deal. I'll be quiet."
"Mmm," Geralt agrees, nosing at his neck, "but it'll get bad again. What would you do with no one here to get you through it."
"Are you..." Jaskier starts, hesitant. "Are you saying you want to stay?"
"Maybe not exactly here," Geralt shrugs, "I'd appreciate being warm and dry part of the time. But I don't intend to go far. Maybe I'll camp out on the beach."
"Will you stay for now?" Jaskier asks hopefully.
"Yes."
Jaskier doesn’t acknowledge the way his heart clenches a little. He shouldn’t want Geralt to stay, shouldn’t care what he does with himself now that he’s fulfilled his end of the bargain, but as they finish cleaning up, he seems happy to be there.
Once they're both clean and Geralt has managed to pull another orgasm from him, they settle on the ground, Jaskier curled up around him. His cock rests perfectly against the cleft of Geralt's ass and he has to be careful not to move too much, lest he work himself up again. He spreads one wing out over Geralt, using it as well as he can to keep him warm.
“You should go back,” Geralt says quietly and if Jaskier didn’t know better, he’d say he sounded almost disappointed, “leave here and find more of your kind so you don’t have to suffer alone next time.”
“I’ve thought about it,” Jaskier admits, “but I like it here.”
“Mm,” Geralt hums sleepily, “guess I’ll just have to come back then, hm?”
Five years later…
The need returns, just as it always does, creeping up slowly and then hitting him all at once, but this time it's worse. This time he has the memory of his Witcher, soft and sweet touching him and kissing him and working him through it. And the memory only serves to make the need stronger.
But he made a promise.
So Jaskier holes himself up in his cave and deals with it as well as he can on his own and when that quits working on the first day, Jaskier swims to the surface in the hopes of coming across some other passer-by who might be willing to risk their life to fuck a Siren.
But when he breaches the surface of the water, there's a figure on the beach, moving oddly. He keeps low in the water, just his head breaking the surface and when he gets closer he realizes it's a man taking off his boots. It takes a couple of seconds to register as the man strips completely naked, but as he gets closer, as Jaskier swims further, he recognizes him. There's a swell of something warm and pleasant that settles in his chest and his heart beats just a fraction too quickly.
Geralt came back for him.
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