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daydreaming-en-pointe · 4 months

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⇢ ˗ˏˋ you know the greatest loves of all time are over now. ࿐ྂ

Pairing: Hobie Brown (Spider-Punk) x GN!Reader

Type: Oneshot - Angst

Warnings: Angst, Reader is dead (died before the events of ATSV), Hobie visits their grave, mentions of death (and grief), use of nicknames (sunshine, my love), inconsistent-ish Hobie accent (I’m trying my best but this man’s accent is so confusing 😭)

Word count: 930

A/N: This is my first proper attempt at angst with Hobie, and I’m still getting the hang of it so any constructive criticism or feedback is welcome! 💜

I might’ve gotten a bit carried away lmao

We never painted by the numbers, baby

But we were making it count

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now

I guess you never know, never know

And it’s another day waking up alone

(the 1 by Taylor Swift)

Inky tendrils of darkness curled into the atmosphere, chasing away any traces of light remaining. Cruelly fitting, he had to admit, considering the reason for his visit.

Everyone was probably either asleep or trying to get there, but he couldn’t sleep. How could he? It wasn’t like his thoughts were occupied by anything else. The incident had happened a few months ago, yet it was all he could remember during the darkest hours of the night when he didn’t have it in him to push it away, to bury it under a false sense of happiness like trying to hold a sheet of glass together while it was cracking. Glue could only do so much to hold the fragile shards together.

Your voice, your laugh, the way your eyes scrunched when you smiled, how you would dance around to your favourite song, the way you could soothe his worries that would spiral into despair without you and calm him with a simple embrace.

He remembered everything clearly, which only added to the pain of it all. Jokes which were so bad that they got you giggling almost hysterically, spinning around on rooftops, tending to his wounds, making him food when he was exhausted, loyally coming to every one of his shows, painting his nails, waking up practically wrapped around him like a koala, cuddling after long, tiring days, holding him close and whispering sweet reassurances that he so easily believed as they fell from your lips.

“Wha’ would I ever do without ya, sunshine?”

Those words so innocently chuckled out on a park bench, his head on your lap while he looked up at you like you were the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen — which, of course, you were in his eyes.

Now he didn’t have to imagine.

It was truly twisted how fate could snatch someone so suddenly, right after they’d promised that they’d be there forever. Twisted that he had just enough time to start believing that out of all the inconsistencies in his life, you might be an exception, one for the better.

Hobie stood in the bitter cold, the light dusting of snow mingling with mud crunching under his boots. The thin material of his leather vest and trousers on top of his spider suit was definitely not enough to keep him warm, but he was barely registering the chill creeping in through his clothes as he pulled off his mask.

His eyes ghosted over your tombstone, reading the all-too-familiar words etched into the stone. He let a shaky exhale and leaned down to drop a bundle of flowers in front of the unforgiving marble, displaying that name - carrying so much gravity because of the person it once belonged to - with a ruthless, twisted sort of pride.

The birthday - no, birth anniversary - of the love of his life. Those two words sounded hollow and meaningless, yet carried the weight of an impossibly heavy truth behind them. You were gone. You were never coming back. You would never be able to come running and leap into his arms again, never be able to fall into that familiar rhythm that belonged to you two alone.

“‘Ey, sunshine. It’s me again. Happy birthday, my love.” He still called you that, even months after your passing. It wasn’t like he didn’t notice the pitying glances and sad little sighs at the nickname. Oh, he noticed them alright. That just made him stubbornly insist on calling you that even more.

He sat down on the ground, tucking his legs underneath him to get down to the headstone’s level. As if someone hidden behind the invisible veil of life and death could meet his eyes and give him that smile that used to make his heart flare every time without fail. As if said someone could make the hurt go away with a gentle kiss, get him thinking about something else like changing the channel on a radio station.

“I miss you. A lot. I wish you were ‘ere. And I’m sorry I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t protect you. I know you wouldn’t want me to beat myself up about it, but…” Hobie trailed off, trying to swallow the lump in his throat that made his voice sound thick to his own ears. “Anyway. There’s this kid who got recruited into the Spider Society. Remember, I told you about it before… yeah. ‘Er name’s Gwen, ‘er dad - ‘e’s a cop - threa’ened to arrest ‘er so I took ‘er in. Spider-Woman’s viewed as criminal in their universe, so obviously that doesn’t work well for ‘er. She’s a wicked drummer. I wish you two could meet, you’d love ‘er.”

He cut himself off as his voice broke at the end, closing his eyes as he allowed a few tears to well up. “I got you somethin’, by the way.”

He reached into his pocket and brought out a tiny clay tabby cat that he had made himself. He was so proud of it because its eyes reminded him of you, sparkly and crinkled with amusement in some ways but mostly kind. Kind eyes that held enough understanding behind them for anyone to feel safe.

He set it down amongst the flowers in front of your gravestone, nestling it in the comfort of a curtain of petals. “I didn’t tell you this since I wanted it to be a surprise, but… I was gonna get you a kitten for your birthday. We could’ve taken care of it together. Your constant pesterin’ would’ve finally paid off.“

I guess it’s too late now.

Hobie slowly got to his feet, trying to force a smile for you before giving up and just pulling his mask on again, feeling his tears sink into the fabric as it brushed against his eyelids.

“I’ll come visit you again soon, sunshine. I’ll bring my guitar too, maybe play you a song or two. Promise. I love you.” He brushed his fingers against the top of the gravestone, where a thin carpet comprised of tiny flecks of snow had gathered. The knowledge that you’d never be able to echo that sentiment back to him again pierced a hole through his heart for the umpteenth time.

I miss you more than I ever thought was possible.

@hobiebrownismygod @l0starl @therealloopylupin2099

#⋆·˚ 🌹 ༘ * — 𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗶’𝘀 𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙨!#⋆·˚ 🌺 ༘ * — 𝙝𝙞𝙗𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙪𝙨𝙚𝙨!#atsv #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #atsv hobie #hobie atsv #hobie spiderverse #atsv x reader #atsv x gn reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown x gender neutral reader #hobie angst #atsv angst #gn reader

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honeyhan-123 · 3 years

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A Slice of Heaven ~ Part Two

Summary: When Jensen stumbles across Melody Meringue on a cam website, he just can’t forget her and his obsession blurs the lines between right and wrong.

Warnings: dark!Jake Jensen, masterbation, camgirl, ice play, unequal power, this is not a healthy cam girl/patron relationship!

Word Count: 2.6k

Notes: I’m so glad y’all have been enjoying this series so far so here’s an update a day early! This is slightly more reader focussed but the next one will be back to Jensen.

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Part One

Your back ached as you climbed up the stairs to your apartment. The temptation to quit your job was stronger than ever but you knew your side hustle couldn’t keep you afloat forever. Eventually you would lose the demure appeal and your patrons would move onto the next young girl.

Already you felt like you were pushing the boundaries of your age, claiming to be a couple years younger than you really were. It wasn’t a big difference, definitely passable in the sensual lighting of your shows, with your eyes hidden behind a mask but still, you knew it couldn’t last forever. You just had to save up enough so you could have a nice little nest egg for when you had to rely solely on your real job. Not that being a minimum wage sales assistant was much of a “real” job. It definitely wasn’t where you had pictured yourself being back at university.

Your keys rattled in the door and all you truly wanted to do was crash on the lumpy sofa and binge a few episodes of whatever was on. But no. He had requested another show.

Normally your side hustle only took up three nights a week but ever since he had become a patron, it was more like five or six nights a week. You had no idea who he even was, only that he went by the username JJrulez and paid well. He was a regular in your normal shows, always tipping generously and had recently become a private viewer too. You always made more money in the group shows, yet with how generous he had been, you felt the need to cater to him when he asked for a private session. He didn’t seem to like the public ones, and some of the comments he had made about how he didn’t want other men seeing you did make you feel a little uneasy, but it was easy to just brush it off. He was just a faceless voice online.

And really, you did feel a little bad for him. Spending hundreds of dollars on some girl you’d never met seemed pretty pitiful. You couldn’t imagine wasting that kind of money, but at the same time you were glad he was.

You showered and prepared for tonight’s show. You could never be quite certain what JJ was in the mood for. Sometimes he was forceful in what he wanted, dictating your every move. Other times he was more laid back, happy to watch whatever you had prepared. You hoped tonight was one of the latter types.

You climbed up onto the bed and switched on your webcam. You logged into the private chat and sent him the link and within moments, he joined you in the session. Like always, he didn’t turn on his camera but you knew he was there from the soft breaths that came across the speakers. He always rattled your nerves but you swallowed down your fear as you tried to speak.

‘Hi baby. how’re you feeling tonight?’

‘So much better now that you’re here baby. You were on my mind all day at work.’ You plastered on a smile for the camera despite the pit in your stomach. It was too much. He was too much.

‘What were you in the mood for tonight?’

‘Well tonight I thought we could switch things up a little bit. You have one of those fridges with an ice dispenser don’t you?’ You nodded, unsure of where he was going with this.

‘That’s good. I want you to go fill up a bowl with some ice for me, honey. And then I want you to come back here as fast as you can.’

‘Okay.’ Your voice was more shaky than you really liked but you did what he said and stumbled your way to the kitchen. You felt out of control as you filled the bowl. You had thought that starting a camming business you would be the powerful one but now you felt anything but.

You climbed back onto the bed and held out the bowl in front of you, ‘is that enough?’

‘Yeah honey. That would be plenty. Why don’t you shimmy out of that little set. I want to see those perfect tits.’ You undid the clasp of your bra and the sheer material fell away, before you wiggled out of the matching panties. You could hear him let out a groan at the sight. ‘Now get some of the ice honey. I wanna see you rub it over your body.’

The ice was much colder than your heated apartment and it sent a shiver down your spine. He seemed to enjoy your reaction, even more so when you started rubbing the cube along your decolletage. ‘Move it a little slower, draw it out for me.’ You obeyed the voice as always and slowed your movements. It was just like a messed up version of a tease. The ice melted against your skin and you could feel the water cascade down your torso. You’d definitely be wanting a hot shower after this session.

Eventually the ice reached your nipple and you couldn’t help the gasp. You could hear him chuckle over the speakers. ‘Doesn’t that feel good honey? Do the other one now.’ You reached back into the bowl of ice and grabbed a new cube, starting the process all over again.

Once both of your nipples were starting to hurt from the cold he finally let you stop. ‘Now I want to see that pretty little pussy.’ His voice was slightly laboured with his heavy breathing but it still yielded far more control than you felt.

You leaned back on the bed and brought your knees up on either side of you, giving him a clear view of your cunt. ‘That’s good honey. Now get some ice and make that pussy wet.’ Your toes curled and your cunt clenched at the thought of rubbing ice along your lower lips. You’d never done something like this before, and a tiny part of you was interested in giving it a try.

You took a bracing breath as you reached into the ice bucket once more. You repeated a little tease for him, trying to build up the anticipation. The ice cube danced along your breasts before slowly sliding down your stomach and you heard him let out an appreciative groan as it passed your navel.

‘That’s it honey. You’re doing so good.’ You could hear movement from his end of the connection and could only imagine he was teasing himself. You had to wonder if he had his own ice bucket beside him.

Your gut clenched as you trailed the ice along your inner thigh, slowly getting closer to where he wanted it.

You couldn’t help the squeal when the cube finally came into contact with your lips. The pure coldness was jarring against the heat of your flesh. JJ let out a chuckle at your reaction, his tone hinting of condescension as he teased. ‘Aww honey, does it feel a little weird?’

You couldn’t find your voice through the lump in your throat and the best response you could make was a little whimper and nod of your head.

‘That’s good honey. This kind of thing is all about the line between pain and pleasure and I bet your pretty little pussy is just so sensitive.’ A chill that had nothing to do with the ice went down your spine at his mention of pain. He’d asked you to do some pretty questionable stuff in your sessions together but you definitely didn’t trust him enough for that kind of thing.

He must have seen the hesitation on your face as he quickly spilled out ‘don’t worry about the pain honey. I mean, how could I even inflict any on you through a computer?’ His words did little to reassure you but you couldn’t seem to find the word to say what you wanted. Instead, you just plastered on a fake smile and tried to slip back into the Melody Meringue persona that you had almost perfected.

‘Well, I’m all about pleasure here.’ Your voice was a little too shaky for your comfort but you tried to fake your way through it.

‘Oh yeah? Am I making you feel good honey?’

You faked a breathy moan, ‘yeah baby. So good.’

‘I wanna see your pretty pussy swallow that ice for me.’ Your fingers played with the cube as you tried to slip it into your heat, only to be stopped suddenly. ‘No honey, get a new one. I bet that pussy is so hot and wet, that cube’ll be melted in seconds.’ You followed his instructions once more and whimpered as the cold brushed against your walls.

The mixture of ice and heat felt strange. A little too strange for you to fully be into it as you felt the cube already start to melt slightly.

‘Now I wanna see you fuck yourself. Get that dildo, the one you used last time.’ You gulped and reached for the case next to you. The purple silicone one was the biggest of your collection and obviously a favourite of his. You couldn’t understand your patron’s obsessions with your bigger toys. Did they delude themselves into thinking that their cock was just as big as the eight inch monstrosity in your hand?

You quickly lubed up the silicone, sensing JJ’s impatience and lined it up with your cunt. The ice on its own felt weird enough and you weren’t sure how it would feel mixed with your hole being filled.

You took a deep breath before slowly sinking down onto the bulbous head. There was the familiar stretch deep inside of you as you pushed the tip past your entrance but it was mixed with the completely new sensation of the ice being pushed even further inside of you.

‘You’re taking that cock so good honey.’ JJ praised you as the base pressed against your lips, the entire thing finally inside you. ‘Now let me see you fuck it. I wanna see how you ride it. How you’d ride me.’ You tried to hide the grimace at his words. Your patrons said similar things all of the time but there was something so needy and possessive about JJ when he said things like this. It made you want to reiterate the rules with him.

But instead of doing any of that, you just continued to gyrate onto the dildo, doing as he said. The familiar squelch of your pussy taking the cock filled your room and you could hear similar sounds coming over the speaker from him.

‘God, fuck. Honey…’ He panted as your pace picked up.

‘Yeah baby. Just like that.’ You made your moans even breathier and felt the reliable tug in your gut. You were nearly there, but none of that mattered until he finished. You shifted into a kneeling position once more so you could really ride the dildo like he wanted. Your other hand reached up to play with your tit, pinching and slapping your nipples lightly. ‘Feels so good baby.’

‘Yeah you like that. You like that big cock filling you up, poking out from your belly.’ His grunts were so loud you felt like he was right in the room with you as he pleasured himself.

‘Yes baby. I do. I fucking love it.’

‘Course you do. Girls like you are all the same. Desperate for a nice big cock to split them open. I - I can’t wait to -’ His pants were heavy as his voice turned high and slightly whiny. You recognised the familiar pattern and slipped your hand down to your clit, getting ready to cum for him.

‘Baby, I’m gonna cum. Please let me cum.’

‘Yeah honey. Do it. Cum for me. Wanna see you cum.’ You let go, allowing yourself to fall off the edge. Your toes curled and you threw your head back. There was the familiar pulsing sensation in your clit as a spasm of energy travelled through your muscles. Your moans were caught in your throat as you rode out the orgasm. It was your favourite part of your sessions, the only time when you truly felt like yourself.

You were only slightly aware of JJ’s own orgasm, his whimpers filling your ears as he came, no doubt into a little fleshlight.

You took your time coming back to reality, enjoying the afterglow of the orgasm too much to let it go just yet.

When you do finally come around, you stretch out, allowing the thick dildo slip out of your quivering cunt. It sends another small wave of pleasure over you and you can’t help the smile. You slip on the black silk robe that you keep at the end of your bed for easy access like this and reposition yourself once more as you look into the mirror of yourself on the computer screen

His breaths are still heavy so you know he’s still there. ‘How’re you feeling baby?’

‘So good honey. You always make me feel better.’ He praised and you felt a stir in your stomach as a deep part of you preened. This, and your growing student debt was what had attracted you to camming in the first place.

‘I’m glad you feel better baby.’ You purred and reached for the water bottle by your bed, ready to log off and get some sleep.

‘Can I book an appointment for tomorrow night?’

You tried to bury the laugh that wanted to escape. It was more than just a little pathetic how eager he was but you shouldn’t complain. He had been paying most of your rent for the last few weeks.

‘I’m sorry baby, but I’ve got a public show tomorrow night. You’re obviously more than welcome to join though if you want to see me again.’

‘Well why don’t you just cancel it? We could spend the evening together.’

You bit your cheek as you thought over your words. It was always a tricky negotiation between keeping a private customer happy while maintaining all of your regulars and you needed them more than JJ. ‘It’s my weekly countdown. It’s where I make most of my money. Plus, how would that be fair to my other patrons?’ You tried to remain polite but firm as you denied him.

There was a slight pause and JJ huffed like a spoiled child. ‘Fine. What about the night after?’

Wow, he must really be desperate.

‘Unfortunately I’m otherwise engaged, I’ve got a personal matter to attend to. I don’t work Sundays either so the next time I can book you in is Monday.’

‘Monday?’ You could hear the affront in his tone and could imagine him pursing his lips as he considered the less than favourable outcome. There was a small silence and you weren’t sure how to break it.

‘Monday is my next free time.’ You tried to gently explain.

‘Fine.’ He huffed once more. ‘Book me in for Monday. The same time.’ His tone was curt and sharp and you barely had a chance to respond before the connection cut out, leaving you alone in the session. His familiar green blinking light turned grey, then black as he logged out and you hoped that you hadn’t just lost one of your best customers.

But then again, maybe giving JJ a bit of a berth wouldn’t be a bad idea. You had a feeling he could be a bit obsessive.

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milkbaer · 3 years

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Eye of the Storm | Part 2

Summary: It was true, Nikolai might indeed be a fool but he just couldn’t let go of you.

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x Tidemaker fem!Reader

Warning: angst (don’t worry there’s fluff)

Wordcount: 5.7k

A/N: Again, thank you so, so much @sumsebien bien for your help and input! It helped me a lot 😊 I promise, this one isn’t as heart-breaking.

Your heart felt like collapsing, imploding and crumbling into pieces. This wasn’t a good idea, it couldn’t be, it was the most stupid thing you’d ever agreed to, and yet your body felt like all its butterflies would lift you up in the air. But he was a prince and you Grisha. This – this wouldn’t work. Hesitating your fingers still lingered on the cords of your stays, contemplating if this was the right thing to do, if you really wanted it.

You heard the splashing of water and a loud, cheerful yell. Quickly you turned around to see the tsarevich’s butt disappear in the chill water of the lake. Even for a summer day, especially when it had been rather hot, the water felt cold. It was both damned and refreshing. Undressed to your stays and chemise you still stood there on the shore, watching mesmerized the prince diving into the water. Nikolai emerged with a loud and excited yell. Pushing the damp hair out of his face he saw you standing there where you stood before. He wanted to see you here in the water, with him. But his adolescent mind had him making ogly eyes at you standing there at the moonlight shore in nothing but your stays and chemise. Claiming that he had never wanted to know what was under the kefta would have been a big fat lie. But seeing you now, all he thought was that it was much better than everything he had imagined.

“Did the tidemaker become a chickenmaker?” He teased you with a grin, it wasn’t the best he had to offer but it had come quickly.

“Shut up! I’m still contemplating!” You told him. If someone were to tell you that one day you would be skinny dipping with a prince, you would never have believed them. Never would you’ve thought to fall in love with a prince and he with you. You didn’t even know how it happened. One second, you hadn’t a clue who the tsarevich was and the next he stuck to you like glue.

“About swimming with a prince?” Nikolai grinned, taking some strokes towards the shore.

“About swimming with a fool.”

“Many would die just to go swimming with me. Let alone swimming with me naked to go skinny dipping with me, you know. I’m quite popular and very charming, or so I heard,” he said, grin never leaving his face. If you’d asked him, he would gladly watch you step into the water with your chemise and after, to prevent you from freezing and catching a cold, he would wrap you into his shirt and coat.

“They must’ve told you lies then!” But he was indeed very charming and handsome, and kind. You looked at him, a golden spot in the silver water. Truly he was storybook material, even more than any fairytale could wish for. Gnawing on your lower lip, thinking more about how much you wanted this rather than if it was a good idea, you slowly untied the strings of your chemise. Finally, Nikolai heard the words he had been waiting for. “Turn around and don’t look!”

With a happy smile he did as you asked. “I wouldn’t even dare, moya milaya!”

Cheeks burning hot, not only from the mere thought of approaching him naked as a newborn, you threw your stays onto the ground, next to your kefta. And when the chemise hit your ankles, you made a run for the water, hissing when your toes sunk into the cool. When Nikolai heard the familiar sound of moving through the water and your hisses and giggles, he couldn’t help but smile. Never had his grin been wider. And never had he been more anxious. He felt like heart would explode that very second.

“May I look now?” Nikolai grinned, turning around before he got an answer. His smile fell when he saw nothing but the shimmering water of the lake. Where were you? Surely you must be in the water, but he saw nothing. The moment the prince decided to dive down himself he heard you gasp for air behind him. Relieved and happier than getting his favourite dessert he watched you looking for him, frantically calling for him. Grinning devilishly, he thought about playing a game with you, which would fall short as soon as you brushed all your hair out of your eyes. But he did it anyway.

“Marco.”

“Nikolai?” You turned into his direction, still blind like a bat.

“You’ve to say Polo, not Nikolai. But I like hearing you say my name, love.” He knew it was very wanton of him saying all these things as a teen. Speaking of love was probably to early but whatever he felt with you, he didn’t want to let it go.

“Ha ha, very funny.” As soon as you could see again, you saw everything except him. Nikolai had sounded so close, but that bastard dived down. Maybe you should just wait and dip your head back when his breath would get short, and he emerges again. It would be fun, a fun little game. But instead of waiting, you dived down looking for him. Diving with your eyes open wasn’t the most pleasant experience but it allowed you to see Nikolai, all of him – maybe too much of him. But he also looked beautiful, more than he did on land. His blond hair, glistening and floating in the water, looked like liquid gold. Nikolai looked like a saint with a golden halo. Like a saint that was giving you the cutest smile you’ve ever seen.

Never ever had Nikolai seen a real siren or mermaid. He heard of them in stories knowing that they weren’t real. Even the fish people of Fjerda sounded unreal to him. Never did he understood how brazen privateers and adventurers could be lured and lurked by the simple sound and beauty of sirens. But when he saw you, floating in the water, hair loose and swirling around, simply looking like the most beautiful thing he has ever witnessed, he believed that the tales were true. You weren’t a soldier, you weren’t grisha. You were a mermaid that could lure him to his doom, and he would gladly, knowingly follow.

Motioning with your finger to pop up Nikolai nodded and followed you to surface. You both gasped for air and you gladly took the chill of the summer night. Taking in some moments of tranquility, enjoying the night air and the calming sound of the lake, you heard Nikolai approaching. For some reasons you didn’t feel like facing him yet. Not after what you’d ve seen under the water. But you didn’t need to.

One moment Nikolai was roughly a meter away and the other he’s cupping your cheek, meeting your lips in a wet and hungry kiss. His lips tasted different through the sweet lake’s water. Surprised you moaned into the kiss, your hands desperately searching for something to hold. You wouldn’t drown and yet if you didn’t grasp him, it felt like you would.

Never had he kissed you like that before. Kisses often had been sloppy, short and sweet. Even the one where Nikolai had stolen you into the dark corner of the hallway, kissing you desperately like his life depended on it, tousling your hair and pressing into you, felt different. You two were too young to know that real love was. But this kiss? It felt like he was pouring all his love and adoration, and something ungraspable into it.

Both panting for air, the embrace had felt like a good eternity, you expected him to grin. Nikolai always smiled after kissing you. He didn’t, not this time. All he did was pant and stare, lips red and lightly swollen, golden strands sticking to his face. You couldn’t bring yourself to smile either.

“You look beautiful,” he breathed, unable to say more. His brain felt like it had been shut down. You wanted to say the same about him, Nikolai deserved it, he looked amazing himself. The image of his golden hair floating around him and his smile, you couldn’t forget it. But instead of telling him you caught his lips in a loving, but far lighter kiss. It had been short and sweet, and nothing like the kiss you shared moments before. Your lips lingered over his, ready to embrace them a second time.

“Do you tell that every girl you meet?” Knowing how sincere he was you hated yourself for asking this. It just slipped. Plus, he was a prince and like he said, no one would refuse going skinny dipping with him. Why should you be the first? You hated yourself for suddenly thinking so lowly of him. It was like your friends’ words, who had warned you falling for a prince, got to your brain.

“No, just myself every morning.”

“So, you have never done this before?” You asked, hesitating.

Nikolai grinned, brushing his lips against yours. “Oh no, I have. Dominik and I sometimes go for a swim here.

“Y/N I – I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone, but you and I don’t want to.”

He kissed you again. It was different from the first one, different from the ones in the hallway. His fingers brushed some wet strands out of your face only to push some of them back seconds later. Like yours, his fingers didn’t know what to do, where to go or what to grasp. It was a mess, but he wanted to show you, to express something he had never felt before. Was this love? He had no idea. But what he felt with you, for you, he wanted you to know and feel that way. Forever.

. . .

Saying that you were confused was a kind understatement. One moment, you drowned the only person you’ve ever loved and the next you began to fall asleep. You weren’t dead, even though you should be. Neither were you in shackles. A stupid decision considering you were on a ship and surrounded by water. Your body was aching, which must have come from laying on the hard wooden floors for hours, maybe days. But when you watched a tear, and another, followed by more, falling to the ground, hitting the rigid stone floor you slowly realized that you weren’t on a ship anymore. Unless the ship had cells made of stone.

Your back was aching, as was your heart mourning the decisions you had made, mourning the death of your love, mourning him. In your mind, you saw him drowning again, swallowed by rage and pain. It was necessary you told yourself, well, you lied. But your heart was hurting so much. You hated yourself. He might not have cared for you but … you did for him, still, after all this time.

Hot tears streamed over your cheeks, dripping onto the ground. What was happening? Were you on a ship, on the ground? Were you dead? You didn’t know.

“I hope those tears are for me.”

Dazed, your head shot up to see the blonde prince you thought you had killed. Perched on a barrel, head resting in his hand, he watched you, probably the whole time. You angrily wiped your tears away, but they didn’t stop coming. Seeing him made your heart race and your head spin.

How was that possible? He’s supposed to be dead.

“It’s almost like The Princess and the Barbarian isn’t it?” Nikolai said, getting up from his barrel to crouch in front of your cell. His face looked grim, and his eyes told of his pain. You wondered how he had survived and whether he had watched you all this time. “Only less fun.”

“Where am I?” You asked, having the slight suspicion that you might be on land. Some place where you shouldn’t be. Some place that meant death for you.

“Os Alta.”

You were in the palace cells? They dragged you all the way from the True Sea to Os Alta? Asleep? You didn’t like this feeling, knowing you had been unconscious for weeks among people who wished to kill you. “You dragged me to the capital? For what? To see me hanged in front of the king?”

Truly you were a coward. Killing was remorseful but you did it, you risked killing your love. You did it, or so you thought. But getting killed yourself? The thought of a noose around your neck, fire scorching your skin, or a sword driven into your heart scared you. It was what you deserved; you knew that. But you didn’t want to die.

“Why didn’t you just let me die? Why drag me all the way here to kill me?” You wept.

The tears didn’t even think of running dry, they just kept coming, making your cheeks all wet, sticky and hot. Nikolai stretched his arm through the bars, but you were too far away for him. He couldn’t even catch a strand of hair if he wanted to.

“Why didn’t you kill me at the sea? Your crew should’ve killed me on that ship!” You cried, sniffling and hiccupping in the process. Nikolai’s lips were sealed, and they stayed that way, watching you weep on the cell’s floor. Seeing you cry wasn’t a nice view. It wasn’t romantic or beautiful, it was ugly and gruesome.

Through your tears, you watched him get up. You expected him to leave, to let you cry alone in the king’s prison, waiting for you death. Instead, you watched him do the opposite. Silent he walked through the cell. You backed away, back hitting the wall when he came to crouch down for you.

“You’re right. I should’ve killed you,” he finally said. “That would’ve been the smart thing to do.”

“Then why didn’t you?” You whispered.

“Looks like people were right. I’m not as smart as I thought.” Nikolai showed you the faintest hint of a smile.

“I can’t watch you cry,” he suddenly said, reaching out to cup your cheeks, only for you to flinch. He hesitated and waited for you to slowly give in the touch. And when you did, allowing for him to hold your head, his thumb gently wiped your tears away. “Even now, it pains me more than it should.”

Your lips quivered, your heart racing, you didn’t know what to do. It would’ve been easier if he hated you, you did after what you’d done. It all would’ve been easier if you didn’t love him still. But your heart was longing for him and there was nothing that you could do.

“And I can’t watch you die.”

Nikolai caught you by surprise, his lips did. His one hand followed the other, cupping your cheeks, keeping you in place and pushing you towards him. His lips were dry, chapped even, and the kiss desperate but intense. It reminded you of the time where he kissed you in the shadows of the hallway. But this kiss wasn’t full of love and adoration, it was all pain and grief. Nikolai’s lips caught yours again and again, kissing you senseless, as if he had to make sure that you were real. Either he was afraid of you being nothing but a ghost or he made up for all the years he didn’t taste your lips. They tasted like salt, a flavour he was willing to take if it meant for you to stop crying.

Nikolai gasped for air, mumbling stupid apologies. “I’m sorry. Forgive me, I shouldn’t have …”

Your mind was gone. Simply gone. But your heart was aching for more, not caring for his excuses. Nikolai didn’t seem to care either. He mumbled all these words, close to yours lips, but he couldn’t contain himself. His lips caught yours yet again before he even realized it. Afterwards he kissed your cheeks, desperately trying to dry your tears.

“Nikolai,” you breathed, pushing him away gently. “You–We can’t. We can’t do this, I tried to kill you. I almost killed you.”

“But you wouldn’t do it again. I know you and even if you would, that’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he said, still holding onto you until you pushed him away further. “Maybe you’d do it for Ravka, but I’d do the same.”

You looked him in the eyes, hazel but full of hope and sorrow. Did he really long for you, yearned the way you did for him? But you could do this. You were his prisoners, his murderer. “No, Nikolai, you don’t understand. I tried to kill you.”

“And yet, you didn’t succeed. I’m standing before you, handsome and smart as ever, as you can see.” He winked at you but that only made you angry.

“How can you still love me after all that I’ve done?” You asked him, sounding angry and desperate, ready to shed more tears.

The prince shrugged. “I just do,” he said, a rueful smile on his lips. “It’s hard to resist you.”

“Stop!” You cried. “Why are you all doing this? You know I deserve the most gruesome death for what I did. I committed treason, I betrayed you. There’s no way out, we can’t change the past Nikolai!”

His ease wavered, fading away. He looked like the man outside of your cell, before he kissed you, grim and heartbroken. “You’re not my prisoner. Call me a fool or whatever you please. I’m not going to kill you.”

“You’re a fool.” But so were you.

. . .

How long have you been waiting? One year? Two? You lost count of the days Nikolai had been gone. One day you laid in bed together, dreaming about what the future had in store for you, and the next he was gone. You knew he would eventually go to study in Ketterdam. But he had vanished without a word, without a letter. It was like Nikolai had never existed. How long and hard had you cried that day? You could hardly recall. All you knew was that you kept your eyes westbound. Somewhere there, somewhere beyond the western coastline of Ravka was Nikolai.

After that day, your friends began hating their tsarevich, feeling vindicated in their beliefs of him toying with you. Even though he was of noble blood they called him a bastard, telling you that you were better off without him. He probably already had another lover, telling them the exact same lies as he told you. But you couldn’t stop praying for his safety and well-being. You couldn’t stop wishing for him to come back.

When you heard the shuffling of feet behind you, your heart leaped in your chest. But when you turned around you didn’t see the warm face of the man you longed for. Standing behind you was your general. You had no idea what he was doing here, had he looked for you or was this all an accident? General Kirigan had never really talked with you. Your skills had never really been of importance to him.

“My general?” You asked him faintly, not really knowing what else to say. It probably was all an accident, and he just came here to admire the view, not to talk to you. How embarrassing.

General Kirigan settled himself beside you, staring into the width without looking at you once. It must have been pure coincidence then. Not that you felt like talking with him in general. “Are we admiring the view or crying about lost love?”

His words shocked you and when he turned to you, dark, depthless eyes staring into your own, you were at a loss for words. How should you respond to that? You gaped at him, General Kirigan, most powerful Grisha of Ravka, and you could do nothing else but stare at him like a dumb fish.

Did he know?

How did he know?

Kirigan stared back into the opens, not really focusing on anything. “He won’t come back.”

That snapped you out of your daze. You felt rage bubbling up, how dare he say something like this? Sure, Nikolai hadn’t visited or written for years now, but how dare he? Even as your general he had no right to say something like that. “You’ve no right to say that.”

“Oh?” He merely glanced at you from the corner of his eyes. “You surprise me Y/N. You truly do.– Never have I thought for you to be so foolish. You disappoint me.”

You froze.

“He’s a stupid little prince, not fit for a Grisha.”

Never would you’ve suggested that Nikolai wouldn’t be fit for you but rather you were no match for him. Still grasping for the last bits of love and the idea of him returning to you, you burst. “You have no right to speak about him like that! Nikolai is one of the smartest people I know! You don’t know him; not like I do. So don’t speak of him as if you do!”

Surprised, brows raised, Kirigan faced you again. Truly he hadn’t expected for you to be that stupid. But it was nice to see that after two years, you were still trapped in the claws of this star-crossed love. Foolish little tidemaker.

The way he stared at you, dark eyes eating you up, swallowing you into a puddle of nothingness and obscurity, scared you. What you did had been a mistake, clearly. You shouldn’t lash out at him – but … Nikolai. Even as your general, if Nikolai didn’t love you anymore and had forgotten about you, he had no right to say these words.

“Oh, you think I’ve no right?” He said, dangerously low and brooding. For probably being enraged he was eerie calm and it scared you. “You think I know nothing?” He breathed, eyes swallowing you fully, letting you drown in their abyss.

Always you had respected your general but never had you feared him, not like today. Your heart was racing, feeling like it would combust any second. You didn’t dare to breathe.

“You think I am a fool, like you?”

Suddenly he was coming closer, and you were frozen to the ground, unable to escape. Your general was standing before you, far too close and yet you did nothing, except for shaking and drowning in his eyes. If Nikolai was a too clever fox, Kirigan was a hungry wolf, and you were nothing but the stupid prey.

Kirigan’s fingers were digging into your cheeks, holding you in place. You whimpered at the sudden pain. “You know that the problem with wanting is?” He whispered, hot breath fanning your ear. As if he expected an answer from you, he made a pause, even though you couldn’t really do that. “It makes us weak. And I don’t want you to be weak.”

“You better forget him.” Your heart was pounding against your ribcage. I know you’re better than that. Wake up, darling. He’s never coming back. Not for Ravka, not for you.”

Tears began forming but you didn’t want them to run, you didn’t want to cry in front of him. “He doesn’t know how it is to be Grisha. He doesn’t know your pain. He doesn’t know you,” he whispered dangerously low into your ear. “But I do. And unlike him, I can make you powerful. You can have anything, Y/N and you deserve everything.”

. . .

It felt weird sleeping in your own bed after you had laid in a cell, where you technically belonged. Nikolai said you weren’t his prisoner, but you couldn’t go back to normal. Even if he forgave you, which he apparently did, you couldn’t forgive yourself.

Not yet.

Maybe never.

Even worse, your mind was a mess, unclear of what to think. You should feel more than happy that Nikolai accepted you with open arms, visiting you every day, looking like he did when you were freshly in love. But your mind wandered back to him, the Darkling. He was different from Nikolai. He used to be your mentor, not your lover. You feared him, and yet he made you a better Grisha, a powerful tidemaker. And yet, you were thinking of going back. If he was alive, he either thought of you as dead or traitorous. But could you really just go back? Honestly you didn’t know if you wanted to but staying here didn’t feel right either.

A knock on your door interrupted your troubled mind. You sat upright in your bed expecting either servants or Nikolai, since they were the only ones who visited you these days. Not even your friends came to greet you, but it wasn’t like you felt ready to face them all. Nikolai peaked inside, grinning like a cheeky schoolboy ready to play the biggest prank of his life. “Are you ready for your daily dose of handsomeness?” He asked, winking at you. But when he came closer, seeing the expression on your face, his mood dropped.

Nikolai plopped himself onto your bed, taking your hands in his, stroking it gently with love. “You’re not my prisoner,” he said.

You sighed, if it was only that. “I know,” you said. You weren’t his prisoner. You were your own prisoner. Deep inside you were glad that he still loved you and didn’t hand you over to death. But it felt weird roaming these halls freely knowing that you’ve done.

He eyed you intensively, brows scrunched in concentration, maybe your face would tell him what was troubling you. The whole prison-thing wasn’t all, and it didn’t take long for him to decipher it. “That’s not the only thing,” he mumbled, more to himself than you. Nikolai knew you for years, he could read your face like an open book. His brows shot up in disbelief, you couldn’t be serious. “You’re thinking about him?”

Averting your eyes, you remained silent. Even the smallest notion of returning to the general felt like a bad idea and yet you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Maybe switching sides to the dark forces was what you deserved.

“Are you thinking of returning to him?” Nikolai asked, letting out a choked laugh.

He let out a shaky sigh, running his finger through his blonde hair. Suddenly the cheeky schoolboy, the glorious prince was gone. Sitting with slumped shoulders, Nikolai looked awfully defeated, as if he had just lost a fight to the Darkling. In a sense, he did. Taking you away, far away and letting you rest and rethink everything made him think that you had returned to your senses, that the tables had turned. That you committed treason out of spite and not true belief. He thought the day in the cell, your talk, your kiss had made you change your mind. But what a fool he had been.

The Darkling had won. He hadn’t got hold of Ravka but to something even more dear to Nikolai.

You.

“If you want to go back to him, if it’s what you truly desire, I will let you go. I won’t stop you,” he said. The pain in his voice made your heart ache and the miserable look on his face didn’t help to soothe the pain. “But answer this truthfully, did he ever care about you the way I did?”

No, Kirigan, the Darkling had been your general. Nikolai had been your love. Did he care deeply for the Grisha? Probably, more than any nobleman or king ever did. He saw you as a soldier, nurtured the talent in you and made you a powerful tidemaker. You weren’t the best, but he had made you stronger. However, you couldn’t compare him to Nikolai. Kirigan had never been your lover.

You simply didn’t know what to say.

Nikolai sighed at your silence, believing that all was lost. He lost you to a maniac and yet he couldn’t be angry with you, not even when you faced him with the desire to kill him. “The Darkling doesn’t care if you make it out dead or alive. For him, you’re just another pawn to spend.” To avoid looking at you he stared at the ceiling, tracing the molding with his eyes. “He never came for you. Not once, all the way to Os Alta. I doubt he cares the way I do.”

You hadn’t noticed the tears that began to well in your eyes or the ones running down your cheeks. “Don’t act like you’re the saint here Nikolai. You left me too and never came back for me, you remember? You left me without a word. Not even leaving a stupid card did you leave me! No words, no letters! Nothing!” You cried. All of the anger, sadness and false hope bottled all the years inside of you, securely stored away, exploded like a volcano.

“I never wanted to leave you!” He cried. Nikolai couldn’t stand watching you cry, it broke him. But then the fury in his eyes vanished as quickly as it came. The young prince scrunched his brows in confusion; he didn’t understand what you just said, accused him of. No letters? This couldn’t be true, he remembered writing to you almost daily as a “student” in Ketterdam, even as a privateer. “What do you mean? I left you a letter at your door, I wrote to you every day.”

"You never wrote to me.”

“I did write. It was you, who never–” Suddenly it became clear to him, the sudden departure for Ketterdam, the lost letter, you never writing to him – it all seemed to make sense. Like it had been planned for a long time. But for what? To get rid of the second heir to the throne? To play cruel games with the heart of a young girl? To hurt the bastard prince? But why? It wasn’t like Nikolai was a threat to him, not at the time he was sent to study in Ketterdam.

“I don’t understand it yet but he’s smarter than I thought.” Nikolai shook his head in disbelief, leaving you confused. Seeing the puzzled look on your face he began explaining his theory to you. He couldn’t give you a reason but the Darkling hat it all planned long ago: Sending Nikolai away, making you one of his weapons and him one step closer to the throne. Nikolai had no clear proof for it but looking at recent history it wasn’t so far-fetched.

“He wanted me dead.” Nikolai didn’t say you. To him you weren’t the assassin you believed yourself to be, and it did warm your heart but there wasn’t a chance you’d forget the words you’d thrown at him. “He used you to kill me,” he sneered, cherishing more and more the wish to kill that man with his own hands.

“But why me?” You asked him, not yet understanding your role in all of this. You weren’t important to the throne. Actually, you weren’t important at all, just another Grisha in the Second Army. Without your connection to the prince, you were nothing but average.

Nikolai squeezed your hand lightly, making you look at him with your puffy eyes. “He didn’t want my blood on his hands. It is easier for his plan if you’re the one who kills me, betraying the Tsar, the Royal family and Ravka … who knows what would’ve happened to you if you succeeded.” Maybe execution had lain in your future? He didn’t want to think about it. Unseen he took a deep breath before putting on a smile and patting your hand light-heartedly. “Too bad he didn’t predict that you simply can’t resist my charm.”

Nikolai had hoped to loosen the mood with that, but you were still stuck on finding your role in the whole mess. “Why me?” you asked him. “I’m of no importance to the throne.”

Scoffing, Nikolai looked like you had said the most obnoxious and insulting thing he had ever heard, and the prince had heard a lot in his young life.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that? It’s the truth.”

“Don’t you know how important you are to me?” Your mouth opened to say anything, but you were unable to form any coherent thought. Pressing a gentle kiss to your hand didn’t make it any better. “I can’t picture anyone by my side but you.”

“Nikolai …”

“It’s the truth. Since the night at the lake, I knew one day I would make you the princess you were always meant to be.” Your heart felt like it was collapsing, and new tears began to build in your eyes. This was such a long time ago. It felt like an eternity ago that this night, full of giddy, foolish, and love-drunken youths, happened. It broke your heart knowing that this love could never be recognized. Back then you didn’t know but now you did. There was no possibility for you to be by his side.

“Nikolai.” You sounded broken. But when you tried to tuck your hand back from his grasps, he didn’t let you. Nikolai kept his hold firm but gentle. He wouldn’t let go of you again. “Please, I love you, but you know this will never happen,” you cried, hot tears flowing down your cheeks. “Even if I were of noble birth. It’s not possible, I–“

“Please don’t say ‘I killed you’.”

“I’m still Grisha. Even if I would be a noble man’s daughter, I would still be Grisha. And soldiers aren’t meant to be princesses.”

His heart swelled knowing that he hadn’t been mistaken about your feelings towards him. Your kiss in the cell already had told him as much but hearing it from you made it all so much more real. It wasn’t the smartest thing to do but he’d claim the throne and make you, his queen. Never would he lose you again.

“Well, if you say so. I must’ve missed something then,” Nikolai grinned and gave your knuckles another kiss, before pulling you towards him, making you almost topple onto him. “A soldier, privateer and a prince. I’m all the evidence you need, moya milaya.”

Gently did he press a kiss to your brows. “I’ll make you make my queen,” Nikolai murmured before wandering to your ear. “And no one. Not the Darkling, not my family, not you, no offense, can stop me.”

#grishaverse #siege and storm #shadow and bone #sab imagine #sab fanfic #Nikolai Lantsov #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov x yn #grishaverse scenario #nikolai lantsov x reader

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soda-pop-kandy-krush · 3 years

Text

so this is a tiiiny bit longer than the drabble i set out for it to be... clearly i have no chill and get carried away far too easily. also, i wrote most of this whilst incredibly hormonal/sleep-deprived, so please excuse any mistakes. i will probably go through and proof-read it at a later date. maybe. in the meantime, enjoy! <33

(Prompt Post)

12: Come cuddle!

17: I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life...

Knock, knock.

“Vee? Are you in there?”

Virgil’s brow furrowed a little, but he didn’t look up from his switch screen as he fiddled with the buttons to reorganise his inventory. “Who is it?”

“Your favourite dad!”

A tiny smirk pinched at the corners of his mouth. He wriggled into a more comfortable position on his beanbag, lifting the console closer to his face. “You can come in, Pat.”

Patton pushed the door open, scanning the room for his son. A beaming grin appeared on his face when he found him, and he made an immediate beeline towards the pile of cushions on the floor.

“Hey, kiddo!” He flopped down right next to Virgil, pulling him into his chest so that he could wrap him in a bear hug.

Virgil grunted in surprise, dropping his switch in his lap as Patton squished his arms to his sides. He squirmed a little, trying to sit up, but Patton only held him tighter, smushing his cheek against Virgil’s soft, purple hair. “Can I help you, Pops?”

He could feel the excited hum of his words vibrating through his scalp. “Come cuddle!”

Virgil squinted. “... Is that not what we’re doing right now?”

Patton giggled. “No, silly! I meant in my room! I’ll bake cookies, and I’ll build us a pillow fort- oh!” He bounced on his knees. “And I’ll even let you choose what movie we watch! As long as it’s not the scary one from last week, with all of the monsters in it.” Virgil rolled his eyes fondly as Patton shuddered.

“The Nightmare Before Christmas isn’t scary, Pat.” He wriggled one arm free and used it to pick up his switch, going back to his game. “Why don’t you ask Princey? I’m kinda busy right now.”

“Oh, come on, kiddo. You can put down the video games for a couple of hours to spend some quality time with your old man, can’t you? Plus…” Patton leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “We both know how much you love your cuddles.”

A choked scoff escaped before Virgil could stop it, his ears turning pink. “I- you- I do not-”

Patton giggled, blowing warm air on the back of his neck. “Yes, you do!~”

“No, I don’t!”

“Don’t lie, Vee. I’ve seen you in action. You’re really not as slick as you think you are, cuddlebug.”

Virgil’s face was so red he thought he was about to burst into flames. He didn’t realise the others actually noticed the way he slowly migrated towards whoever was sat on the other end of the couch during their movie nights, curling his legs up on the cushions so that he could worm his way under their arms and bury his face in their chest. Or how he would drag his beanbag into the common room and plop it in front of anybody in there, sinking down and not-so-subtly leaning back to rest his head against their knees so that they would play with his hair and let him drift asleep. Patton had caught him out, and he’d never been more embarrassed in his life.

In his final attempt to hold onto the last, tattered shreds of his dignity, he turned to the only sensible option left: sulking like a child. He folded his arms with a petulant huff, glaring at the ground. Patton couldn’t help but laugh.

“Awww, what’s wrong, kiddo?” He teased, wiggling a finger under his chin. “Where did that little smile go?”

Virgil’s scowl immediately flattened out, the corners of his mouth twitching as he scrunched his shoulders. Intrigued, Patton repeated the action, grinning delightedly when Virgil made an ‘mmph’ noise, his hand coming up to push him away.

“Wait a second... Is somebody ticklish?”

He pulled Virgil into his lap and tweaked the curve of his waist, earning a loud squeak as the dark side lurched away from the attacking hand, struggling to hide what was unmistakably the beginnings of a flustered smile.

“Oh my goodness,” He gasped, spidering his fingers up and down Virgil’s sides. “This is the most adorable thing in the whole entire universe!”

Virgil whined, premature giggles already beginning to bubble up as he batted at Patton with one hand, burying his burning face in the other. “Shut uuuup!”

Patton chuckled. “Oh-ho, I would watch what I said if I were in your position, Mister.” There was a devious lilt to his voice that wasn’t there before. Virgil’s stomach dropped. “The tickle monster really doesn’t take kindly to that sort of language.”

He would deny the way that he shrieked when Patton reached down to poke his belly until the day he died. Virgil’s hands immediately shot down from his face to protect himself- but unfortunately, that was exactly what Patton was betting on.

“Uh oh! We’d better get those-” He caught both of Virgil’s wrists, pinning them against his chest so that he was effectively trapped in Patton’s embrace. “-out of the way. There we go!”

Virgil whimpered, nervous giggles spilling out as he tugged uselessly at his arms. “No! Pat, plehease!”

“Please what, Vee?” Patton grinned mischievously. “Pleeease… Give you all of the tickles?”

“No!”

“Yeah?”

“Nohoho!”

“Aw, kiddo! All you had to do was ask!”

Ten wiggly fingers suddenly dug into the spaces between Virgil’s ribs. Combined with the teasing and his current helplessness, it tipped him over the edge just far enough that he couldn’t hold back the bright, child-like laughter that spilled from his lips. It was the sweetest sound that Patton had ever heard- and it was coming from Virgil!

Oh, yeah. He was never letting this go.

“I can’t believe that you kept this a secret from us!” He moved to pinch Virgil’s lower ribs, chasing the cluster of sweet spots towards his back that had him squealing and arching away. “Oooo, that was a good spot, huh?” Patton chuckled, reaching over to his other side and repeating the action.

“Ahahaha- Pat! I cahahaha-!” Virgil collapsed against the moral side, his laughter tinged with hysteria as Patton’s fingers started poking his all of ribs randomly, making him squirm so much that he was now practically laying flat in his lap.

“What was that? You can’t believe how much fun you’re having?” Patton cooed, grazing his midriff using his fingertips. “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest! And don’t you worry- we’ve got plenty of other places to explore before we’re anywhere near finished~”

Virgil groaned as Patton lifted his wrists above his head, allowing him to catch his breath. He screwed his eyes shut, preparing for another attack, only to jump when he felt Patton’s hand cup his cheek, gently stroking the soft skin with his thumb. He blinked and looked up to see the moral side smiling back down at him.

“You okay there, kiddo?” He chuckled.

Virgil flushed, leftover giggles spilling out as he panted. He was giving him a chance to escape. Asking him if he wanted to continue. Making sure that he was actually enjoying himself.

He knew that he liked it... And he was okay with it?

Swallowing, Virgil nodded. His timid smile morphed back into a wide grin within seconds as Patton’s fingers scribbled their way down his neck, his collarbones; looping over his shoulders before they wormed their way into his armpits, scratching at the taut skin and causing Virgil to fall right back into loud laughter.

“Ehehehe- gehehet out of there!” He cried, pulling at his arms. Patton laughed along with him, still reeling from his wonderful discovery. The sight of a happy, squeaky, ticklish Virgil was a million times cuter than he could ever have imagined.

“Huh? You mean here?” He wiggled a single finger right in the centre. “Okay, sure!” Patton switched to the other side, vibrating his fingers deep into the hollows.

Virgil squawked, promptly falling into uncontrollable cackling. By this point, he was so weak with laughter that he could barely even fight back. Not that that was such a terrible position to be in, but he’d be damned if the others ever figured out that he liked this, as well. Having the resident goofball know was bad enough, but he’d never hear the end of it if word spread around the rest of the mind palace.

However, Virgil didn’t have much time to sit on it, as all comprehensive thoughts evaporated from his head as soon as Patton started to graze his fingernails up and down the underside of his left bicep.

“Nonono-nohoho!” He pleaded, curling his arms around his head, not unlike a baby hedgehog. “Pat! Pahahat! Lemme gohoho!”

Patton laughed. “Oh, I’m afraid it’s too late for you now, stormcloud. I’ve got you trapped, and you’re mine forever!~” He booped his nose gently before moving to the other arm, his lips curling up into a playful smirk. “Plus, I couldn’t possibly let you go before finding your worst spot.” His fingers slowed to a halt. Virgil felt a shiver run down his spine.

“And I’ve got a feeling I know exactly where it is…”

Virgil immediately broke down into nervous babbling, wriggling and giggling desperately as Patton trailed his fingers down the length of his body- stopping whenever he found a particularly ticklish spot to give it some attention- before he arrived at his middle. Slowly, dragging out the process as much as he could, he lifted Virgil’s shirt, the soft material brushing against his skin and lighting up every nerve in his torso, sending the poor dark side into fits of anxious giggles.

Patton tittered amusedly. “Well then, it looks like I guessed right, huh, Vee?” And with that, he used all five fingers of his free hand to form a claw, spidering across the sensitive skin of his stomach.

Virgil shrieked, bursting into loud laughter and kicking his legs out. Drained of his strength and hopelessly giddy, there was nothing left to do except lay there and take it as Patton’s tickly fingers crawled all over his belly, pinching and squeezing and scribbling every tiny, hidden spot until Virgil was sure he’d go insane. It was completely unbearable, and he never wanted it to stop.

“Gitchy-gitchy-goo! Tickle-tickle-tickle!” He cooed, scribbling at the skin beneath his bellybutton. “Gee, kiddo, I think you’ve got to be the most ticklish person on the planet!”

Virgil’s laughter dialled up even further, blushing so hard he could feel it in his ears. Oh, God, not the teasing! He was pretty sure whatever was left of his brain had now melted entirely, leaving him a loopy, flustered mess.

He scrambled around to try and pull together a suitably snarky comeback, when Patton began to scratch at the sides of his stomach and he finally, finally lost it.

“Nahahaha! Stop! Stohohahap!”

Patton gradually slowed down, eventually stopping and pressing the palm of his hand firmly into Virgil’s abdomen, rubbing away the phantom touches that lingered on his sensitive skin. His head lolled to the side, resting against Patton’s hip as he gulped down air, hiccupy laughter bubbling up in between each breath.

Patton chuckled. “You alright there, giggles?” He ran his fingers through Virgil’s hair, mussed up from all of his wriggling.

Virgil, with the remains of a dazed grin still stuck on his face, nodded, nuzzling against the soothing touch. He let his eyes slip shut, the occasional, solitary giggle escaping. The moral side smiled warmly.

“I’m glad. You definitely needed that laugh.”

Leaning forward, Patton switched off his gaming console from where it had been abandoned on the floor, before carefully scooping him up into his arms to carry him back to his room for the snuggles he was promised. Just as he was about to close the door behind him, a quiet voice interrupted him.

“Thank you…” Mumbled Virgil, sleepily.

Patton chuckled. “You’re welcome, kiddo.”

#gahhhh i hope people like this #my writing #prompt writing #tickle #tickling #ts tickle #ts fanfiction #ts fanfic #ticklish!virgil #lee!virgil #ler!patton #moxiety #tss tickle

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izzyfandoms · 4 years

Text

Like Lipstick Stains On His Skin

SHIPS: Remile

CHARACTERS: Emile Picani, Remy Sanders

WARNING: Anxiety, references to heartbreak

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @aj-draws @phantomofthesanderssides @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @because-were-fam-ily @imtryingthisout @a-creepycookie @emo-disaster @littlestr @spooky-scary-virgil @fuyel @mimsidoodles @soupgremlin @aroaceagenderfluid @birdsbookshiddeninrealbirdsskin @quirkalurk @gingers-trashy-stuff @iinyxtello @justaqueercactus @melodiread @mrbubbajones @glassferns @pun-master-logan @gayturtlez @k1ngtok1

Masterpost

A Series Of Soulmate AUs Masterpost

Emile Picani had been in love with his best friend for as long as he could remember.

The moment he had first laid eyes on Remy Sanders, his initial thought had been that that was the most attractive person he’d ever seen. And, after getting to know him better, Emile’s thoughts only solidified; Remy was funny and sarcastic, smarter than anyone gave him credit for, and casually flirty in a way that made Emile’s heart stop and pound and ache all at once.

And Emile’s feelings had only strengthened as they grew up together.

From awkward teenagers still figuring out their sexualities to adults with their own homes and jobs and independent lives, Remy and Emile had stayed friends through it all, sticking together like glue since they’d first met in middle school. They knew almost everything about each other, and they were best friends.

But that was just it – they were friends. Nothing more.

And Emile was... fine with that. He was fine.

He loved Remy. Loved, loved, loved Remy.

And, sure, it hurt when he was with Remy, but not really with Remy, not in the way Emile always wanted to be. It hurt to be around him and know that it would only ever be platonic, that his best friend would never love him back in quite the same he loved him.

But time spent with Remy was better than time spent with anyone or anything else. And Emile knew that Remy cared deeply for him, too.

Emile could take the heartache if it meant he never lost his best friend.

When Emile heard the knock on his front door, he immediately recognised it as Remy’s. He jumped up – perhaps a little too enthusiastically and excitedly, but the only person that could see him right now was himself, so there was nobody around to judge. He rushed over to the door and pulled it open. Remy’s eyes lit up when he saw Emile, and he grinned.

Emile would never admit aloud to the tremble of his heart in his chest at the expression on his best friend’s face, but he did immediately squish down the traitorous hope that emerged every time Remy looked at him like that. Which happened almost every time they saw each other.

“Hey, Remy! You’re here early,” Emile said.

“Hope that’s chill, babe. I was not watching the time.”

(Emile did his best to ignore the feelings that the use of the nickname ‘babe’ stirred up.)

Remy’s sunglasses were propped up on his head, as they often were, and his warm brown eyes were on display. He was wearing his signature black leather jacket, too, as he usually was, with a white crop-top – with the word ‘bitch’ across the front in block capitals – underneath, exposing his midriff.

It took effort for Emile to keep his eyes from drifting downwards.

“It’s fine, Remy,” Emile smiled, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on his best friend’s face. “You’re always welcome here, you know that.”

Remy laughed. “If you keep saying that, I’ll end up showing up here at 4am when I’m drunk.”

“Well, I would rather you came here than go somewhere else and get yourself hurt.”

“Even if that means I wake you up from whatever candy-coloured, cartoon-filled dreams you’re having?”

“Mhm!”

“Damn, gurl, you really are sweeter than sugar, huh? How the hell did someone like you end up being besties with someone like me?”

“Aww, Remy, I think you give yourself too little credit.”

Remy laughed again. “Nah, babes, I love myself. I’m just kinda an asshole sometimes.”

“Isn’t everyone sometimes?” Emile said.

“Not you, apparently. Come on, you’re basically an angel, like, 24/7 and I have legit no idea how you do it. You’ve got the patience of a saint and a smile that literally gives me toothache just looking at it. You’re downright adorable.”

Elation bubbled up in Emile’s heart, and those bubbles filled his chest and spilled over in the forms of happy giggles. He covered his smile with his hand, and practically melted on the spot at the soft, fond look that crossed Remy’s face for just a moment – almost unnoticeable, but Emile paid enough attention that he saw it – before being replaced with Remy’s usual grin.

“Do you want to come in?” Emile asked, still smiling.

“Sure.”

Emile stepped to the side, and Remy’s arm brushed against his own as he walked past him. He hoped the stuttered breath at the contact wasn’t obvious.

“I like the new tie,” Remy commented as Emile shut the door and turned to face him.

Emile perked up. “Oh, you noticed!”

“Course I did,” Remy said. “I’ve seen every tie you’ve got like a million times. I could tell that one was new basically as soon as you opened the door.”

“Aww, Remy... you’re great. The best friend a guy could have!”

Emile’s smile was soft, fond, and so, so caring, and – for just a moment – he could have sworn that Remy looked flustered to be the recipient of it: wide-eyed and as still as a statue. But then, the moment passed, and Remy’s expression smoothed over and returned to normal, and Emile was sure that he’d only imagined it.

“It’s nothing, babe,” Remy said, waving his hand dismissively. “You noticed when I got that new skirt last week, even though it’s identical to my old one-”

“Your old one had a big hole in it! The new one didn’t.”

“Yeah, so I had to get a new one ‘cos it made my ass look great and I wasn’t ‘bout to give that shit up, you know? Ooh, and I especially love it paired with those heels that get everyone looking at my legs, ‘cos that combo makes me look fab AF.” Remy paused. “You know what, I think that’s kinda beside the point. Any-gay, you noticed ‘cos you’re cool like that, so me noticing your tie is, like, nothing.”

“Aww, Remy,” Emile reached forward, and poked Remy’s arm. “It’s not nothing, most people wouldn’t even be able to tell! You’re my best friend, and it makes me really, really happy that you notice these kinds of things.”

Remy’s expression softened. “Well, then I guess it makes it pretty special then, huh?”

Emile felt like screaming. Or kissing Remy. Or kissing Remy and then screaming.

(Though, really, if Emile ever got the chance to kiss Remy, he’d be too busy savouring it to even think of doing anything else. Too busy savouring the feeling of warm lips against his own, of Remy’s gentle hand against his cheek, of a chest pressed against his own, of being so close to the one person he wanted to be close to more than anything else in the world. But he never thought he’d ever get the chance.)

Emile stumbled over his words, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other as he fiddled with his hands. He had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that, and wasn’t sure if he even could without losing control of his mouth and accidentally confessing his undying love for his best friend.

“Um...” he trailed off.

Remy laughed awkwardly, running his fingers through his hair and glancing away.

“So, uh... what did- what did your patients think of your new tie?”

“Oh!” Emile perked up again, at once both disappointed and relieved by the return to the original topic of conversation. “Yeah, two of them complimented it. And someone said the red was a nice change from the usual pastels, so I think it was a big hit!”

He smiled, and Remy immediately smiled back.

“Nice.”

“I think the pink tie’s still my favourite, though.”

“Mine, too. It’s a classic Emile colour.”

Emile laughed. “There are classic Emile colours?”

“Sure, there are! You’ve got your baby pink, baby blue and, you know,” Remy reached out, tugging gently on Emile’s cardigan sleeve. “You’ve got your cardigan-colour. I’ve, like, barely ever seen you without this thing. How many of these do you have? Like, a hundred?”

Emile giggled again, covering his mouth with his hand. “I have two. And they’re both a little different!”

“Right, right,” Remy nodded. “One’s, like, a little bigger.”

“Mhm! And this one’s a bit softer.”

Remy nodded again, slowly and with an amused tint to his smile. “So, are we gonna, like, move, or are we gonna stand in your hallway forever?”

“Oh, right!” Emile said, like he’d only just remembered that they were still stood at his front door.

He moved past Remy, gesturing for his friend to follow as he went into the next room and sat down on the couch. Remy immediately flopped onto it beside him, getting comfortable on the soft, squishy cushions. He leant back lazily and stretched.

“Ooh,” Remy finally said, straightening up. “I bought a new lipstick yesterday!”

“Ooh, what colour?”

“It’s, like, pink. It matches the shoes I bought last week, and it makes me look killer. I’m gonna get all the guys’ eyes on me, so it sucks that I can’t wear it when I’m, like, actually looking to kiss strangers, you know?”

Emile ignored the pang of pain in his heart, and did his best to smile encouragingly.

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned,” he said. “I- I bet you look great in it. And it- it's a shame you can’t wear it when you want to.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda tempted to, you know, but, like, if I’m wearing lipstick, then I won’t know if any marks my lips make are ‘cos of my lipstick or ‘cos of soulmate shit, right?” Remy continued, gesturing vaguely with his hand. “And, like, what’s the pointing of making out with people if I can’t also know if they’re my soulmate?”

“Right.”

“So, I can only wear lipstick when I’m not looking for people to kiss. Sucks, but it’s gotta be done.”

Emile nodded slowly. Then, he paused, and his brow creased in thought.

“You don’t usually wear lipstick when you’re with me,” he said. “Even when we’re going out and it’s just us, no- no kissing strangers involved. How come?”

Remy froze in place.

“Uh...”

Emile blinked at him. He tilted his head questioningly. “Hmm?”

He could practically see the cogs turning in Remy’s head, while he searched for an answer that he obviously did not have or did not want to share. He looked... flustered, in a way that Emile had almost never seen him before – opening and closing his mouth a few times – and Emile just couldn’t seem to figure out why.

Remy and Emile just stared at each other, neither knowing quite what to say to the other. Emile was confused, not wanting to speak up at the risk of interrupting whatever Remy wanted to say. He also absolutely would not let his mind wander to the any possibilities that would fill him with hope.

A crushed hope was definitely not something Emile wanted to deal with, not right now.

Remy cleared his throat. He swallowed.

“Um- there’s...” he then huffed, looking down at his lap and running his fingers through his hair. He let out an awkward laugh, and then looked back up at Emile. “I... okay,” he sighed. “There’s something I think I should probs tell you.”

Emile stared at him, blinking. “What is it?” He asked.

“It, uh...” Remy sighed again. “I have no idea how you’d react to this. The thing I want to tell you... it could probs mess up our friendship.”

“Remy...” Emile said softly. “You’re my best friend. You can tell me anything, and I promise you this won’t mess anything up, okay?”

“You don’t even know what I’m about to say.”

“I don’t need to. I know you.” Emile leant forward slightly, giving Remy his best attempt at a soft, reassuring smile.

Remy stared at Emile for a second. Then he laughed again, a strange mix of awkwardness and nervousness and with a hint of slight joy, too – with a confusing, even a little alarming, effect. His eyes never left Emile’s smile.

“Jeez, babe. How are you making this so much harder but so much easier at, like, the same time?”

Emile blinked. “Um... is that good?”

“Dunno. But...” Remy took a deep breath. He clenched his hands into fists, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before he turned back to Emile. “Okay... wow, I’ve wanted to tell you this for forever, but, like, fuck, this is terrifying.”

Emile’s expression creased with concern. He reached forward, looking him over worriedly, and rested his hand on his best friend’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.

“Remy, are you okay? You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he frowned slightly.

“No, I- I want to tell you. God, you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about telling you about my feelings.”

Feelings. Feelings, feelings, feelings.

Did that mean what Emile thought it meant?

The hope rose up, though he tried so hard to squash it down, but it was like trying to fit something large in a container too small and he could hardly keep it from filling up and overwhelming him. His breath stuttered, and he was sure he tensed up and froze in place for a moment, before he finally regained his composure and physically relaxed.

“Feelings?” He asked, in a voice slightly more strangled than before. “What feelings?”

Remy let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, that’s- that’s what I’ve gotta talk to you about. My- my feelings... for you.” He took another deep breath. “I... I love you, Em.”

“I love you, too,” Emile answered back immediately. “Haven’t we said this before?”

They had. The two best friends had been friends for so long: exchanging ‘I love you’s was practically part of their routine, by now.

But it had always been platonic, at least from Remy’s side.

Right?

“We- we have...” Remy said slowly. “But that’s not what I meant. I love you. Like, love love. Like the head over heels in love kind. The- the I can never stop thinking ‘bout you kind. The, fuck, you’re so gorgeous kind. The kind that means I’m, like, basically always thinking about you and about kissing you and about how, wow, you’re- you’re just amazing. I mean, damn, I know last week when I told you that you’re my favourite person, I kinda said it like a joke, but I meant it. I like really, really meant it.”

When Remy realised that he was rambling, he clamped his hand over his mouth, like it was the only way to get the words – the pretty, pretty words that had set Emile’s heart aflutter – to stop tumbling out.

Emile was frozen.

He stared, wide-eyed at his best friend.

“Oh,” was the only thing he could say, in a strangled voice.

He was sure that his face was already bright red.

“Great.” Remy sighed, removing his palm from his mouth and burying his face in his hands. “I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?” He mumbled just loud enough to be audible. “I- I know you don’t feel the same way, babe, and it’s fine. It’s totally, totally fine. I’m happy just being friends with you, ‘kay? You- you don’t have to return anything. It’s- it’s whatever. It’s chill.”

Emile’s brain had broken. He could hardly think anything other than the words ‘Remy’ and ‘love’ just over and over on repeat.

Instead of saying anything in response to that – as he wasn’t even sure if he could – he just suddenly burst into nervous, delighted laugher. Emile was sure he sounded like he was crazy, especially when Remy turned to him with a bewildered expression.

“Did- did you really mean that?” Emile asked when he could finally collect his thoughts enough to speak, which took slightly longer than he would have liked it to.

Remy blinked. Then, his expression softened.

“Of course, I did,” he said. “I’d never lie to you about something like this, Em.”

“So, you... you really mean it?” Emile asked hopefully.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did,” Remy said. He hesitated for a moment, before nervously adding: “Do you- I mean, is it-”

“I love you, too.”

There was a beat.

Remy stared back at him, wide-eyed. The moment of silence was somehow simultaneously nerve-racking and also soft and so, so exciting, because, oh my gosh, Remy loved him. Remy loved him, he loved him, he loved him!

Love! Love! Love!

And, oh, heavens above, Emile was about to start wiggling excitedly because, gosh, he really, really just had to kiss Remy, right now. And maybe – maybe, maybe, maybe – Remy would say yes if he asked.

Emile let out another giggle, covering his mouth with his hand.

“You... you do?” Remy asked, eyes wide and hopeful, and Emile was suddenly glad that the sunglasses were propped up on his head, as his expression was always much easier to read that way.

“Yeah,” Emile responded, equally soft. “I really, really do.”

“Wow. Just- just wow.”

Emile reached forward, impulsively cupping Remy’s cheek with his hand, and Remy froze. His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

“Oh, gosh- sorry,” Emile apologised. “I should’ve asked-”

He moved to take his hand away, but was stopped by Remy covering Emile’s hand with his own.

“You’re good- you're- yes. Yes.”

And, well, that was exactly the answer that Emile had wanted to hear.

He leant forward, and finally – finally! – did the thing he’d most wanted to do for years. Years. Since the moment he’d first laid eyes on Remy, he’d thought about it.

He kissed Remy.

Softly. Carefully. Holding Remy’s face so delicately like he was holding something precious.

And the way Remy was kissing him back...

Emile had seen Remy kiss people before – strangers, friends – and he’d always kissed them like he was doing it for fun, not love. He’d never seen Remy kiss anyone as gently as Remy was kissing him, right now.

Bubbles of delight and fireworks of excitement were going off in Emile’s heart and his mind.

He sighed happily into the kiss, and he could suddenly feel Remy smile against his lips.

Emile broke the kiss with another delighted giggle and Remy couldn’t help but just start laughing with him, too. And, of course, that just made Emile’s giggles louder and more enthusiastic.

He was so focused on the laughing and the delighted feeling in his chest from the fact that he had just kissed Remy, that Emile didn’t immediately notice that Remy’s lips were suddenly pink – a light, pastel pink that certainly hadn’t been there before.

And, in fact, it was Remy who halted the laughter first, by freezing in place and staring – yet again wide-eyed – at Emile’s own lips.

Emile paused, and tilted his head in confusion.

“Remy?”

Remy opened and closed his mouth a few times, never taking his eyes off of Emile’s lips.

“Em... your- your lips.”

Emile blinked. He reached a hand up to his own lips, and swiped a finger across them. He then looked back down at his hand, and found nothing – no blood, no anything.

He paused, and then turned his head to look at the mirror that hung on an opposite wall.

His eyes landed on his reflection, and he finally noticed that there was a smear of shiny silver across his lips that definitely, definitely hadn’t been there before.

Emile sucked in a breath as Remy turned his head to look into the mirror, and he realised that Remy’s lips were now a lipstick-like pink, when he certainly hadn’t been wearing any just before the pair had kissed.

“We’re-” Remy started.

“Oh,” Emile breathed.

“Oh,” Remy echoed.

They turned their heads to stare at each other, equally wide-eyed and shocked and excited.

Soulmates.

They were soulmates.

And then Remy surged forward, and kissed Emile again.

#me #writing #remile #sanders shorts #cartoon therapy #emile picani #remy sanders #sleep sanders #fluff #human au #soulmate au #first kiss

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sometimesiwrite · 3 years

Text

Just a Scratch

B I N G O !

Prompt: It’s Just a Scratch

Pairing: Lambert/Aiden; Eskel & Lambden; Implied Geralt/Eskel

Rating: Teen

Summary: Lambert and Aiden are moving to start the next leg of their adventure together. Eskel sees them off.

Warnings: Modern AU; bittersweet; friends leaving; implied COVID distancing A/N: For Ben & Jemma

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo @continentcakeshop @morethangeraskier

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33145900

“All set?” Eskel asked, squishing in one final duffel bag into the footwell and backing himself out of the rear door of Aiden’s VW Golf. Anya, Lambert and Aiden's husky mix, dozed sleepily in the back seat despite the excitement, having been rudely awoken at 6:30am to confusedly do her business.

“That’s it,” Aiden shrugged, letting the trunk close with a dull, satisfying thud. He opened his arms questioningly, and Eskel wasted no time pulling him into an affectionate squeeze, touching his hand to the back of Aiden’s head before pulling away.

“You take care of yourself. Let me know when you make your first stop, alright? Anything goes wrong, just let me know.”

“We’ll call you from the hotel,” Aiden reassured as he flipped the car keys over his finger.

“I still say we can make it to Port Hope by the end of the day if we push it.” Lambert was tucked under the hood, giving the car one final check for fluid levels (tyre pressure had already been meticulously checked earlier that morning).

Aiden tilted his head, “That’s if you drive and unfortunately the highway patrol doesn’t care about fuel efficiency if you’re going ten over the speed limit.” He ambled his way over behind Lambert to get a cheeky eye-full of his favourite view, “Besides, I need you to put that sexy brain of yours to work for navigation.”

“Oi! Gerroff!” Lambert protested and Aiden backed away, but not before getting in a perfectly resonant smack. “If you had it your way, you horny old bastard, we’d be stopping every two hours to—”

Eskel pointedly cleared his throat, scratching his head as he met Aiden’s eyes with a mixture of amused pride and endearing awkwardness that Aiden had so quickly grown to love. He would miss Eskel. They'd gotten close over the last five years, close enough that they had become friends of their own—each keeping the other company when Lambert or Geralt was out of town, planning surprises...

Aiden's proposal had gone perfectly, their crowning achievement of mutual scheming. Lambert didn't even try to deny the fact that he'd cried like a baby—candles, dusk, his favourite hiking trail, champaign. Even Anya had behaved herself. That is, until she decided her owners had been embracing for too long and not paying nearly enough attention to her. Eskel had offered to edit that part out of the video, but Lambert insisted on keeping it in—"What's a special moment without our favourite dingus. Isn't that right, Anya? Are you a dingus? Yes! Yes you are!"

“Not gonna miss us at all, are ya, big guy?” The hood latched heavily as Lambert wiped his hands and stowed the oil rag in the passenger's side door next to the Stanadyne.

"You kiddin'? I'm gonna miss you like hell. C'mere." Eskel wrapped Lambert in a bear bug that nearly crushed his goddamn ribs.

"Easy, Eskel, Jesus I gotta breathe!"

"Sorry," Eskel eased off, but he didn't let go. There hadn't been enough hugs in the last year. The last few months had barely made up for it, and now there would be far fewer. More dinners over Skype, more sporadic phone calls, occasional texts... watching his and Aiden's life unfold over Instagram and Facebook. But at least they would be happy, Eskel told himself. At least they were starting the next stage of their lives together with an adventure they'd remember forever. This was important for them. And yet the chill, damp fog of isolation was already creeping in around Eskel. Even as he held Lambert close to him and swallowed tears he'd save for later.

One final squeeze and a pat on the back, and Lambert turned to get in the car, tossing a treat to Anya as he settled in. Aiden gave Eskel a final peck on the cheek, "Take care of yourself, alright? Don't be a stranger. Call, text, whatever. We're always happy to hear from you. Promise?"

Eskel nodded soberly, "I will. Thanks, Aiden."

"We'll skype when we get to the new place. I want you to see it before it gets cluttered with boxes. We could even do dinner or—"

Eskel waved a hand, "We'll figure something out. Just get there in one piece, and send pictures. I'm not worried."

Aiden smiled warmly, "Good. Good." A heavy exhale, "Alright, well..."

"I hate to interrupt the bleeding hearts moment, but we've got commuter traffic piling up on the 606 as we speak! Get your gorgeous butt in the car, we gotta move!"

Aiden took a beat, "Yes dear!"

"Okay, Anya! You be good!" Eskel gave the chocolate-and-caramel pup one last scritch behind the ears and closed the rear door just in time for the stereo to start playing Journey.

The car rolled down the driveway and Eskel watched until it disappeared over the hill past the stop sign. When the gravelly diesel purr was finally drowned out by late summer cicadas, Eskel sat heavily on the front steps with his coffee. He couldn't bring himself to open the door and go back inside. Something about the stark emptiness of a home previously occupied with guests made the aimless silence too loud. Besides, robins and cardinals were better than daytime tv for company. Finally, Eskel rested his forehead against his thumbs and let the wave of emotion breach the dam.

Shedding tears was something Eskel usually associated with significant pain—rage, grief, remorse, indignation—an open wound that took time and tending to heal. This wasn't like that, though. This was a scratch. Simple, uncomplicated pain: he was sad. Eskel couldn't remember the last time he'd cried because he was just... sad. Decades ago, he imagined, though he couldn't pinpoint a specific moment. It was something children did before emotions became more complicated. But here he was, sitting on his front steps, crying because he was sad. Eyes streaming, hot and wet down his cheeks because his friends were leaving. Just a scratch.

He felt silly, crying over something so inconsequential— and a man as touch-needy as Eskel, bearlike as he was, was left with the sinking feeling that, aside from Geralt, he might not touch another person for a rather long time.

It's not that they didn't have friends, of course, and he would talk to them later that night. He was helping to plan their wedding for chrissake, it's not like they would never speak again. But proximity to other people was something that had grown increasingly scarce, and Eskel—bearlike as he was—had the sinking feeling that, aside from Geralt, he might not touch another person for a while.

Lambert and Aiden had an uncomplicated relationship with affection that always freed Eskel from the burden of second-guessing the odd touch to a shoulder or elbow. So many others had different personal spaces, many of which had expanded recently. Eskel was happy to respect, and accommodate, but Eskel always felt most himself when he could be affectionate with the people he cared about, and with those two gone, it suddenly felt as though a part of his identity was being forced back into shadow and shyness.

Eskel felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and he sniffed loudly before answering. "Yup? Geralt, hi. Yeah, they just-just left. I'm ok-I'm okay. You know. Goodbyes are never easy. How's the conference? Heh. Good, good. Tell him I send my regards... Listen, I should get to work. No, I’m okay, I'll call you later... Will do. I l— I love you, too, hon. Buh-bye.”

Eskel hung up the phone and stared quietly at the bird feeder for a few more minutes before going back inside, feeling as though something in the cosmos had shifted.

#witcher rarepair summer bingo #Lambert/Aiden #Eskel #Eskel & Lambden #wrsb

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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years

Text

Detectives By Chance: Chapter 7- Hide & Seek

Summary of the Series: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

A/N: Okay, let me get this straight. This is ALL Action and Miles being evil. The most happening chapter of the series, and my favourite chapter because it brings out that fighter inside Pooja. Also, a lil bittersweet moment because only 2 chapters are left, and then we are done. (And I am using my Wattpad cover for this chapter because A. I like it! and B. It gives me the dark feels that embody this chapter) Anyway, hope you enjoy it as much as I did when I wrote it!💛

If you enjoy the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going💕

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Dr Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: about 4.3K

Rating: Teen

Triggers: Curse Words, Mentions of blood, murder Gun Violence

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters. I only own the OCs and my MC.

Prompt:- @choicesaprilchallenge2021 Day 14: Now or Never

CATCH UP HERE: Previous Chapter I Complete Series

It took all of her self-control as she prevented herself from throwing away her phone and breaking it into a thousand pieces.

Only the thought, the hope of a chance to save her Ethan, to save Mark and Alex, who were like family to her kept her going.

It was A Now or Never Moment for her.

Seconds later, Pooja's phone tinged. The screen lit up. She unlocked it to see the address that glared from her screen towards her. The address that hid all secrets and all proofs. The address which held the love of her life in who knows what condition.

She got into the car, entered the address on GPS and drove as fast as her driving skills allowed. Her mouth turned dry, face pale, beads of sweat on her forehead, her mind whirling through numerous unpleasant thoughts and a lingering doubt,

Will she be able to save them?

After what felt like a lifetime to her, Pooja arrived at her destination. A mid-sized mansion stood tall amid a deserted locality. The place was so muted, that the silence seemed to make voices. The winds gushed, chilling her bones. She stood in front of the black wood door. The silver handle's shine was unsolicited for her eyes. She took a deep breath.

Do this, for them. They are your family.

The thought repeated in her mind like verses of an orison. She let the ire, the woe to flood her soul and with fortitude and balance, she pushed the door.

He had kept it open.

The door clicked in place as she entered the devil's edifice. The interior was tenebrous, the conspiracy of silence etched deep in every wood and every wall.

"You are here"

The sudden sound caused Pooja to quail. The words resounded throughout the mansion, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. The sweat on her body contrasted with the rigour of the air.

There was no doubt in her mind. Her caller was here.

Miles Danvers was here.

But... She Looked Around. Where is He? She looked around, maybe it was a mirage. She looked everywhere but there was no sign of him.

"Don't try, You won't be able to see me." The ominous voice struck again.

Another chill ran down her spine. The thought of Ethan being unaccompanied in the devil's edifice with the devil himself was unbearable.

Will I be able to do this?

"Awww, Tsk, Tsk, is little blossom scared? Did I give her a heart attack?" Miles spoke mockingly.

That was the last straw. She would never give him the satisfaction of having scared her. With as much courage she could muster she yelled,

"AHHHH! You ruthless, sinister, cruel, heartless, disgusting monster. What the freaking hell do you want? Why the hell are you doing this? You are a goddamn monster, you are a freaking BASTARD."

She stopped for a breath.

"Not only that, you are a coward. You are a goddamn fucking coward. You don't dare to face the consequences of your actions. Hell, you don't even dare to come out and face me. If you had the courage, you wouldn't do what you have done. Now come out, you ruthless bastard. Get the hell out and come and face me." Pooja screamed hysterically.

"What will you get by yelling at me, hmm? Will Mark and Alexandra be out of jail? Or will you find Ramsey? Which one, huh?"

"You're the one who is responsible for all of this. You disg-"

"Do you want to save them?"

She felt as if her heart had stopped. Her mind pondering with hundreds of thoughts, doubts, yet she waited with batted breath for him to continue.

"Le silence signifie le consentement."

"J'accepte" Pooja muttered. Bloody Show Off

"Hmm. Three Clues, Three tips, Three keys. Three is your lucky number, isn't it? So let's put your luck to test and see if your lucky number is lucky enough to save your dear ones" Miles challenged her with a mock that boiled her blood. Seeing her helpless was utter humour for his soul and he was cackling in joy.

She shouted, hurled abuses, banged her fists, but there was no answer, no reply other than "You are running out of time... Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha...."

Her legs were giving out, she felt herself losing her balance, her steadiness. A chance, wasn't that all you needed? She heard her alter ego questioned her.

So good friends, like family, huh? Is this what you do for family, fall and bow to danger without putting up a fight? Is this what you did, when you fought for your mother, give up just like that?

Her sane mind was questioning her. No. She didn't give up then, She will not give up now. Maybe she will never make it out of here, maybe nor will they. But it was better to die fighting for them, than dying without even trying, striving for them.

"Miles", her steady voice, with power and courage, surprised him for a moment, but he wasn't shocked. This was Pooja Sharma after all. One who always stood for the right, even if it would make her lose her dreams.

"I am ready. And I hope you are too."

"Are you sure? This game can take that breath from you."

"Until it does, I will fight. For them"

A part of his mind already knew that she would win. But for his ego, accepting defeat was never an option.

"Fight all you want to. But winning is not an option for you."

"Time shall tell the answer"

"Alright, Two rooms to the left, and your search beginsss."

She ran. The worn-out door refused to give way to her. She pushed, but her strength was not enough. If only you had drunk that milk your mom gave you. Her mind swirled to the thoughts of her mother and she had to give a jerk to come back to the present.

"Seven minutes up already, and you're still stuck at the door. How sad!"

Cursing him under her breath, she upped her power and got ready to give a push just as,

Her fingertips felt a carving on the door. She had been praised for her impeccable sense of touch, but she never knew that it would come in handy in a dire situation one day.

Her mind, her heart, indicated that this was the clue, and she slowly, gently, moved her palm on the door. She got a slight trail of the carving and followed it further a few times. It took her about a minute to comprehend what it was.

A word. TIME. She was looking for something to do with time. But what? The place was so quiet that one would hear the ticking. But she didn't. Although auditory skills were never her strong point after she had a blockage in her left ear and had to go through five doctor visits to clear it, she was sure that there was no analogue clock around her. Her brain cells were running haywire when her shoes rubbed the floor. Sand had been spread around. Consciously.

Because on her trail from the main entrance to the door she was standing in front of right now, she was sure she hadn't felt sand anywhere other than this specific space. This was an indication, It had to be.

Time and Sand, Time and Sand, where do we find time and sand together. Time and sand... Her mind rushed frantically through a dozen options, none fitting the criteria, while Miles smirked at her foolishness.

And then, Oh shit, HOURGLASS! She practically jumped and nearly fell, as she comprehended the answer. With the newfound energy, she pushed the door, and it opened with a BANG! Her hand went to her pocket and she almost shrieked as she felt her phone, about which she had completely forgotten the moment she set her step in here. Taking it out and switching on the flashlight, she trailed into the room. Looking around and tripping on a dozen articles, she finally located the semi-broken hourglass. She held it under the flashlight and the words, upstairs, three rooms right, written in red, came to sight.

She glanced around the room once more, to make sure that there was nothing she was leaving out.

Her eyes stopped their search as her eyes fell on the five drawers of the broken cupboard on which the hourglass was kept. Only one of the drawers was in place, and that made it seem out of place in midst of all the chaos. She pulled at it, Once, Twice, Thrice, before it gave way. A blue file lay inside it. She picked it up, hoping to find some useful information and rushed on to the next step of her search.

On the other side, a corner of Miles's mind was terrified and nagged him to do something before it was too late, and he became the loser of his own game. But he just sat there, not moving an inch, as he watched Pooja running towards her next destination.

The next door, to her surprise, was pretty sturdy and opened easily. No catch this time? Unbelievable. As far as she had come to know Miles Danvers, setting up clues right in front of her eye was a far-fetched possibility.

She double-checked the exterior. Nah, nothing here, she was sure of it. Her silent steps fell on the hardwood floor as she looked around in the room for the clue. Her mind got distracted and worry came flooding back. Will she be able to save them? Was she even going to make out of her alive?

Suddenly, her foot struck something and,

"Twoooo Roooomsss Toooo Theee Rightttt..."

The Echo and her Shriek came almost simultaneously. And with the two sounds, mixed the third one of a cackle, from Miles.

The sudden rush of Adrenaline left her panting.

After a few minutes wasted in overcoming it, she kicked the weird machine once more. The Echo came again, this time clearer than the first one. But since, she didn't trust her ears, or maybe it was just her anger speaking, she kicked it once more.

Two rooms to the right was her next destination. She moved towards the exit, having checked the surroundings already and no clue found.

A few footsteps outside the room later, a thought struck her. She rushed back to the previous room, and using her flashlight, picked up the echo machine and checked it thoroughly.

And right her intuition was! A piece of paper stuck between the lined back. She took it out and unfolded it. It was a code.

M14-6D9

She looked around. There had to be something that opened with the code.

Wow! Such thorough checking! She rolled her eyes, berating her self.

And as she did so, her mind went back to every time Lex had called her the living image of the 🙄 emoji.

A light, sorrowful chuckle escaped her, along with a lone tear.

She let it drop and moved on to complete the mission she had partaken in.

She searched, and Nah, Nothing at all. Pooja doubtfully looked around. Was she missing out on something, or was it just another one of Miles' Red Herrings to mislead her?

Five seconds and temporarily deciding on the second option, she went out to the next room and thought of coming back to this later.

Pooja went to grab the surprisingly well-kept handle, and in a reflex pulled it back. The handle was abnormally hot. It felt out of nowhere. No fire, no nothing, how the hell was the door handle so freaking hot?!

Of Course, she couldn't twist and turn a burning hot doorknob and harm her chances of success. So, she decided on other ways of opening the door. She kicked, pushed, forced it with the tad bit of strength left in her, but the door didn't even budge a single inch.

Her ankle sprained with the forceful kicking, she sat down. Tears rolled down her eyes, but she couldn't decide why.

The pain in her ankle, the fear of failing or a mix of both?

But obviously, No pain greater than letting down those whom you love.

She couldn't comprehend the time she was losing as she sat there, crying silently. She slowly started to rise, but couldn't bother to wipe her tears. Wasn't this what Miles Danvers wanted to see? She let him enjoy his short-lived victory.

Forgetting that the doorknob was hot as hell, she held it, and before she could withdraw her hand, her eyes fell on a cuboidal machine stuck just below the spherical structure.

This time, she did wipe the water from her glassy eyes, to get a better look.

Pooja switched on the flashlight and looked closely at it. So this was the mini devil burning her palm. After a few minutes of scrutinizing the black box closely, her eyes caught a red button on the downside of it. She went on to switch it off, and as soon as she did, the faint, almost inaudible buzz coming from it stopped.

The devil had been silenced.

But she knew that it would take time for the knob to cool down. She searched her jean pockets, and luckily her baby blue handkerchief with a neat P Alekhya has sewn on it was there to save the day.

She folded the kerchief in half and with it tried twisting the knob. A Few failed attempts later, she slowly opened the door.

But as soon as the light fell inside the room, her phone and kerchief, both fell on the floor.

The floor swayed under her feet. In front of her on a one-arm broken couch, lay Ethan.

Her Ethan.

The only light-emitting source of the room now lay covered on the floor, preventing her from taking a better look. And she was shaken to the core by the way events unfolded, layer by layer, that there was nothing to say at all.

Her brain froze, all ideas drowning down the drain, her confidence uprooted by the pain she felt seeing her love like that. A Thousand thoughts spiralling in her mind, but she pushed them aside. Her knee bruised by the fall, her feet wobbled as she tried to get up. Garnering strength on an empty stomach & little sleep was becoming increasingly difficult for her, but she needed to go on.

Giving up was never an option

She got up and decided to look around for a way out of the musty building with Ethan, all while hiding from Miles' eyes. Because he had been keeping an eye on her.

Picking up her phone, she directed the light around the room. Raggedy and Unclean, her fingers clenched around her phone as she felt fury fill in her veins. If she didn't have morals, she would have killed Miles herself at that very instant.

There were no cupboards or drawers anywhere around the room. She strolled around with careful steps and heard dry leaves and glass crunching underneath her foot. Pooja looked at the floor, and seeing its condition, didn't hope to find anything helpful.

That's when her eyes fell on a piece of paper. She picked the dust-coated sheet which had become brown from its originally white colour. She tried opening it up using a single hand but ended up tearing it a bit. Pocketing her phone, she opened the sheet up gently and then took the phone out again. Flashing the light, she slowly went through the contents.

It was a map of the building, and she had never felt as grateful as she did at the moment.

She studied it closely, carefully and located a narrow stairway at the corner of the first floor, i.e. the floor she was on, that would lead her out of the building without having to use the main entrance.

She needed to take E out of here, at any cost. But how in God's name was she going to carry her Dr Giraffe alone, all while making sure Miles didn't have suspicions?

She made his unconscious body sit upright as the couch creaked. This broken shit isn't going to last much longer, she thought to herself. She couldn't take any chances of getting caught. Whatever you have to do, do it quick.

She bent and locked his arms around her neck. Then, she stood up slowly and an Uff! escaped her mouth. Wish I had paid attention to the weight lifting lessons.

Pooja lifted him off the sofa and enclosed his long, really long legs, around her waist. And as she started to walk, she stumbled back and forth, and almost fell, as she gained a stable posture. She slowly got out, making sure her shoes don't prompt the creaky floorboards to begin a musical. She scooted to the farthest edge of the floor and walked quickly to reach the darkest corner.

A walk of a lifetime and approaching the darkness, her eyes struggled to make out the door for the staircase. She trusted her intuition and slowly, very carefully, placed a foot in front of the other, as she made her way down. She worried that E might get hurt, and she would hate herself for the rest of her years if that happened.

The grey light at the end of the staircase was a ray of hope for her. She thanked her past self for parking the car closer to this side of the building as she hurried to place Ethan there. She felt her pockets and found the key faster than her expectation. She opened the passenger seat and placed E down on the floor because as much as she hated it, she couldn't take chances with Miles locating him in the car in case he came for a lookout.

Phew! She was relieved that whether or not she makes it out of the mess she had got tangled in, her love will be safe. Locking him safely in, she rushed back to the mansion.

On her way back, she rushed a bit too much, all while forgetting to switch on her flashlight. She tripped badly on the stairs and fell facedown. When she got up, the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. She felt a blank space in her mouth. She had lost a tooth.

She made her way back and expressed her gratitude to God for letting her make this trip safely. She remembered to shut the door behind as she left and made her quickly to the room where Ethan was held captive. A mistake she had noticed the time she looked at the map was that she had entered the wrong room.

And it was a four-leafed clover for her.

She closed the door of the forbidden room just as her ears pricked up. Tips & Taps of someone's footsteps made her heartbeat rush as she quickly moved to the actual room she was supposed to be searching.

"Hmmm" Miles arrived behind her, hands in pocket. The room in front of her didn't have a door.

"So are you planning to spend the rest of your life chillin' here? That'll be a wonderful plan!" He mocked her and the list of the number of times Poo had wanted to punch him had just become longer.

"What the fuck do you want?" She hissed.

A lopsided grin told her that he was having the best time of his life tormenting her.

"No, I just wanted to check if you will ever make out of here or not."

"And what conclusion did you arrive at?" She mocked curiosity.

"I think- No, scratch that. I am sure, that this" He gestured around him, "is your Final Destination"

His grim laughter filled the place as he went around, checking his surroundings, especially the forbidden room.

Poo had smartly switched on the Make-Hot machine to avoid any suspicions. Seeing, rather, feeling that the door handle was perfectly hot as hell, he returned, and she let out the sigh of utmost relief.

Her heart was filled with gratitude as she thanked God, over and over again, as things turned out in her favour in a place where she had no resource & no help. Although she still felt as if she had been left on the battlefield without preparation or weapons, she used her skills to pave her way safely.

The last room, surprisingly well-kept, lay open before her. Please let me pass this last one, she let out a silent prayer and went in.

Flashlight on, she looked around. This time it was only evidence and no clues and keeping that in mind she carried on her search. A bed lay at the centre of the room. All around were shelves and cupboards which had been kept to mislead her and make her waste her time. A 40% charge in her phone and the clock telling her that she had only 20 minutes left to get out safely, she hurried away.

Quickly opening one drawer and then the other, disappointment flooded her as she failed to locate any file, folder, hell, even a piece of paper.

At last, all drawers, cupboards done and nothing there at all. She felt let down, her heart palpitated. She sat down on the bed and as she placed her hand, heard the very soft scrunch of paper. The stillness of the surroundings was the reason why she could hear it.

She quickened her actions and lifted all the goddamn blankets, to reveal a bunch of paper, half folded, half-torn. She gathered them all. Suddenly she felt something stuck behind one of the sheets. Turning it revealed a USB drive.

Fuck, this was her gold!

She rushed out, picking the papers and the blue file she had collected from the first room. She remembered to check back the second one and the M something code. When she tried to reopen the door, however, she failed. All her trials went in vain. Unlike last time, the door didn't even budge this time.

And then, the entire manor shook as the roar of a bullet echoed all around her. It had been shot just next to her foot, and she stood frozen at her place. She slowly turned around, and saw Miles, with the evil expression on his face appearing to shine in dim light, standing there with a gun.

Slowly, Stuttering, Pooja asked, "What, what, t-the h, hell do you think you are, are doing?"

"I said I will give you the clues, I never said I will let you get away with them. Why would I invite my danger, when putting you to the deathbed would be much, much, easier?" Miles Danvers hissed.

"You want to do a second murder, lose the chance to save your brother forever?"

At the mention of Mark, Miles did fall a little weak, but that passed in a heartbeat.

"Girl, if I really cared about him, I would have never plotted against him in the first place. Bringing you here, was just a ploy, a mask, so that I can finish all four of you and live my life in peace."

He moved forward, one step and the next, as Pooja tried to run. He held her hand with a bone-crushing grip and twisted her hand to her back and held the gun to her cheek. She tried to free herself as she cried out in pain. Her eyes widened as the cold metal touched her skin.

She had really walked into hell at her own will.

Pooja knew her twisting and turning will not be able to help her a bit. So she tried to remember the self-defence techniques she had learnt in her teens and using her foot, kicked him hard in the groin.

He groaned in pain and his attention shifted. Pooja taking the chance, ran swiftly down the stairs, only to slip down the stairs and land on the ground floor. She incurred painful injuries and couldn't move for a good minute.

Even as she mustered the courage to sit up, her body ached in extreme pain. She must've sprained something real bad. Miles was still withering in pain, and she took the chance to get up and slowly move towards the exit.

She dragged her foot and muttered to herself,

Just one more step, just one more.

This rhyme gave her the strength as she almost made it to the door and then

AAH!

Blood splattered on the ground as the bullet pierced through her left hand, and she held the door to support herself. Tears rushed out of her eyes as Pooja screamed in pain.

At least it was her hand and not her mind that had been hurt. Even in pain, she acted smart. Throwing away the files that she held in her right hand outside, she took out the pepper spray that she always had in her pocket and sprayed a good bit of it at the approaching Miles.

It was her black, powdered dynamite, her most powerful weapon.

Coughing, Sneezing, Stumbling, Miles let out cries of help and the gun was very soon forgotten.

Smirking through her tears, Pooja chanted, It's the end Miles, It's the end.

Getting out of there, She shut off the main entrance door on his face and collected all the papers with her non-injured hand. Dragging her foot slowly, she escaped, pride and contentment filled in her heart.

Whatever she did, whatever pain she received, all paled as she bathed in the joy of the possibility of finally being able to rescue her people, her persons.

She did it, for her family...

You never know how strong you are, until being strong is your only choice.

PS: I would have killed Miles myself if given the chance😡 Also sorry for this dark, twisty tale after my birthday. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this mess and here's to hoping that you have a wonderful day ahead🧡! Love You!

Tags (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @bbrandy2002 @whimsicallywayward15 @ohramsey @nervoussaladsludgeopera @trrfanaddict @hopelessromanticmonie @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @lovablegranny @bellcat2010 @gkittylove99 @kingliam2019 @starrystarrytrouble @3riche @chetachisblog @zoehanji @withbeautyandrage @drariellevalentine @mvalentine @aestheticartsx @angela8754 @schnitzelbutterfingers @ao719 @choicesstan1 @neotericthemis @arnikki-2406 @anotherbeingsworld @maurine07 @sophxwithers @twinkleallnight @choicesaddict5 @gardeningourmet @mysticaurathings @jessiembruno

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moonlights-inkwell · 4 years

Text

Oh, Can’t You Hear The Scratching?

Jaskier x Reader

Word Count: 4747

Summary: A serious injury leads to you being forced to leave your travelling days behind you and try to reintergrate yourself into a life you left behind. But it seems something from travelling has decided not to leave you

A/N: So. Um. This was meant to be some post Mountain smut, but turned into some semi-angst and is probably gonna turn into a series (and kinda (?) a companion piece to my Oxenfurt Series) where Jaskier and the Reader just sorta embrace some domestic bliss. So yeah. Title taken from That Unwanted Animal.

The first chill of Autumn is enough to wake you from a dead slumber. The cold nips at the tip of your nose, leaving it almost painful and chaffed, and you curse internally at the windows of your small home, which lately has done little to keep out either rain or cold. Pushing yourself up from the warmth of your fur-lined bed, you sit up and wince when the chill hits your chest, causing you to heave out a sigh as if you had been punched, blinking bleary-eyed before turning to gaze out of your window. It’s still dark, but no longer pitch. The sky is the colour of the violets that grow along the path that leads to your cottage but paling slowly, no sight of sun or moon, cloud or stars. Soon the horizon will be warmed by the orange glow of the sun, but right now you find yourself in this blissful timelessness, caught between dusk and dawn, sleep and awake. Moments like this feel rare, special, and you dedicate them to memory, to remind yourself of the mundane beauty of the world when you feel lonely and upset. These moments are wonderful, and your lips turn up in a tired smile.

Sleep is trying desperately to overtake you once more, begging you sweetly to rest as long as humanly possible- after hard nights working in the tavern, you deserve rest and respite, but you fight against it. Swinging your legs out of bed and standing up, you groan in annoyance.

“Melitele’s tits.” You curse, slurring with sleep. Padding barefoot to the window, you lean against the wall and rub your eyes, toying with the thin fabric that hangs to the side of the windows. It’s much too early in the day, and much too early for you to be feeling this way. This feeling only normally comes with Winter but reminds you all too much of the day you met Jaskier. It was as if fate had insisted you to be ready for him. Your heart sinks at the thought of him.

You left the Witcher and your Bard behind in the spring. It wasn’t an easy choice, or even really a choice that you made, but it was the only one that was given to you. It came as a result of fighting a Wyvern. You hate Wyverns, always have and always will, but the fight against this one had cemented that in your mind, seeing as it sunk its claws into the left side of your face, and nearly blinded you. You didn’t even really know what damage it had caused until you sunk, faint, to your knees and Jaskier screeched in horror at the sight of you. I'm not that ugly, am I? You thought to yourself and chuckled slightly before falling unconscious.

You woke in a healer’s tent, barely able to comprehend spoken language as the medic told Geralt you were lucky to be alive, never mind retaining the vision in both eyes. Something in the back of your mind told you that you should be in pain, excruciating pain, but you can’t feel a thing. Your face would likely keep the marks of the beast forever though, he told the Witcher, voice as emotionless as possible. The hand holding your own tightens its grip. Jaskier. You smiled and cracked open the uninjured eye, but the smile faded at the sight of his red, tearstained face. He looked like he had been sobbing, and he probably had. He fretted about you when you got splinters, so the idea that you could have died was too much for him. He glanced down at you, and upon seeing your open eyes cupped your face gently and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. It’s like no kiss he’d given before, it’s full of something you haven’t felt from him, sadness. Regret. It feels like goodbye. When he pulls back his lips and chin are stained with your blood.

“I’ll find you in winter.” He muttered and your eyes narrowed in confusion. Tears overtook him once more, and he dragged you into his lap to sob onto your bloodied blouse- he'd never been squeamish about blood before, but in that moment, it was as if he was trying to get as much of your blood on him as possible, to mar and mark himself with proof that he was yours. Your fingers threaded through his hair, but whatever the Healer had given you meant that you couldn’t feel the softness of the chestnut locks, smell the musk and lavender scent that you know permeates from him over the coppery blood. It's hollow. You can’t feel him at all and would have taken the agonising pain of the wound if it meant that you could feel the touch of his skin on yours.

“Till winter.”

It was goodbye. At least for the time being.

Geralt took you home on Roach the next day, and insisted you remain. Retune yourself back to the life in your village, rather than a life that will kill you at any and every turn. He said it so firmly you couldn’t force out an argument, and so you’ve remained since that day; remaining in the old home you resided in just outside of the village, returning to your job in the tavern, and trying in vain to pretend that you aren’t in pain, not spending your days missing your bard, counting down until the seasons change and Geralt will return to Kaer Morhen and you can feel a dandelion on your skin once more.

Absent-mindedly, you drag the tips of your fingers over the fading scar over your eye, it’s no longer garishly red and surrounded by mottled green, yellow and blueing bruised skin, instead almost white, with a strange shining quality about it. You don’t hate it, but you hate what it represents. Weakness. You found scars wonderful as a child, proof of how adventures had marked you, even on the road with Geralt it had been something of note, proof of how no monster had felled you yet. This one has felled you, left you more than just marked. It’s a conversation starter with patrons at the pub though, it sees you regaling people with your tales of traveling with a Witcher, and sees the pockets of your pinny grow heavy with coin as the nights draw to days, but the song starts up and you feel your throat begin to swell closed, lips suddenly wordless and eyes swelling with tears. Toss a Coin to Your Witcher is capable of reducing you to tears, your Dandelion would be proud were it under different circumstances. You miss him like a lost limb. After so long around him, always touching, always grinning, always talking, the absence makes you uncomfortable, especially at night.

Jaskier had always been there at night, oh what the luxury of your travelling partner being your lover had been during nights on the road. The sound of him singing in the darkness, illuminated only by the firelight and framed by the canopy of the trees, as if on a stage and performing for an audience of only you, how it felt when he dragged you, often kicking and squealing in laughter, towards your shared bedroll. While you are glad of a permanent bed, you miss sleeping beside him. It feels childish to admit that you find it hard to sleep without him, even if you are only admitting to yourself, but it is difficult without him; you miss the feeling of his arms around your waist, head between your shoulders and breath fanning against your skin, lulling you to sleep. Not only that, but you miss the sweetness that comes before sleep, tiredly resting on his chest and listening to him talk- usually utter nonsense you care little for, but enamoured by his passion and way of speaking- or singing, ringed fingers burying themselves in your hair while your fingers thread through the Shag Rug of chest hair.

The shadow that passes by the window doesn’t catch your eye, distracted too much by memory, and you turn tiredly back toward bed but stop. Bed will do nothing but remind you of the chill behind you, lack of arms about your waist and head resting in the hollow between your shoulder blades. That won’t do. Instead, you find yourself padding to the small room that keeps the hearth, lip trapped between gnawing teeth as you begin a search for a means to light the fire and warm yourself a serving of last night’s stew but stop. Scratching. Scratching. Something is scratching at the front door. That’s not normal. All your life there has never been scratching at the door, even in spite of its close proximity to the woods no creature normally drags their claws along the wood, save for once, when a wolf had found itself lost and confused, but even that had been a pup. Just Imagining things, you try in vain to convince yourself, hand falling onto the matches and drawing a sigh of relief from you. It takes a second or so for your hands to stop shaking, but when the scratching dies you manage to strike a match and start a fire beneath the hanging pot of stew. Warmth, at long last, and light too.

You sit on the floor to warm yourself in front of the hearth, humming softly along with the phantom of a song you hear in your dreams. It’s not one you know too well, you don’t even know if the song has lyrics, but it's one of Jaskier's and that means it’s your favourite. Tears that threaten to fall blur your vision and in the glowing flames you almost swear you can see him, sat across from you.

It’s familiar, hauntingly so. You can all but feel the hard stone beneath your feet turn to prickly, drying grass, your sleep shirt turning to almost threadbare chemise and trousers. You can even feel the bruising ribs from an especially rough incident with a werewolf that saw the Witcher walking to a nearby village for food to help you feel better. The flames in front of you ripple and roar, causing the wood to pop and crackle, and with each noise you jump slightly and flinch in pain. Jaskier sits across from you, staring at you intensely and strumming at his lute. He’s beautiful in the light of the fire, lashes dark and his eyes focused, taking in every flinch and jostle.

“Try not to move so, Little Miss. You'll only hurt yourself. Well. Hurt yourself more.” He's trying to sound unaffected, but the intensity of his gaze betrays him. You worried him; a skill you’ve been honing in your time with Geralt and him, and you know how he worries. He's more of a mother-hen than a fighter in the first place, flapping about and acting as if you’re some delicate flower in polite society rather than someone who enjoys being combative, but combined with your human fragility? He frets. Overwhelmingly so. His eyes, the colour of the sea after a storm, moves from your eyes to where he knows your injury to be and then back to your eyes once more. You can’t quite meet his eyes, distracting yourself by looking over the intricate ivory embroidery that decorates his doublet.

You hate worrying him. He’s been so kind to you, always so giving: making sure you have enough stew to eat, warm enough when autumn comes about, threatening any man who looks at you with anything less than respect. He knows how you revel in fighting, but each and every injury you get sees the bard fretting even more so than normal. Though you can't meet his gaze you can feel his eyes on you, and hear the soft melody he's plucking, which makes you shift on the spot, letting out a pained moan as you do. Focused on the searing pain in your ribs, you don’t quite hear the bard gasp out your name and rush to your side, only knowing he's even there when you feel a warm palm rest on your thigh and turn to see him on his knees in front of you.

“Fucking hell, Little Miss, are you alright? Do you need something? Shit... I- I can try and fetch Geralt, he won’t be too far-" The brunet rambles, eyes wide and grip on your thigh tightening, which serves to make your breath hitch- but not from the pain. Jaskier is always touching you, you’re quite certain he was not given sufficient human contact as a child, but never has he touched somewhere as... intimate as your thigh. The heat of his hand seeps through your trousers, and goes straight to your core and face- cheeks bright pink. He's still rambling, you realise, and reach out gently to cup his cheek, silencing him immediately. Stubble you can’t see on his boyish face prickles your palm, and you meet his eyes once more, noticing how wide the pitch of his eyes had grown.

“I’m fine, Dandelion. Truly. Just moved too fast... bruises, and such.” You laugh weakly, tilting your head. “It will pass. Just need to distract myself.”

He laughs with you, hand squeezing the meat of your thigh and so close you can feel his breath fanning against your skin.

“I can distract you if you like?” He offers, voice lower than normal. You smile in return and nod, expecting a song or joke but what you get instead is his lips pressed against yours. Warm, wind chapped, perfect-

A log pops and you come from your memory, blinking and sniffing as the smell of the soup makes you smile. It’s not much, but it’s enough. Before you can reach up for a spoon to mix it, you hear it again. The scratching. It's back, and worrying. You miss Geralt, not for the first time that night, missing how his acute hearing would be able to tell you if it was an animal or human- specifically if it was a wolf as you suspected. Scratching, scratching and scratching. It worries you, but not enough for you to become fearful; instead making you smirk, eyes narrowing into dangerous slits and shifting towards the sword you've kept beside the door. Less than a second later you dart toward the door, and grip the cold hilt of the blade in one hand, body pressed against the wall beside the door. The scratching stops when you move which only makes you hold your breath, eyes slipping shut as you try to relax once more. Calm doesn’t come, and instead you heave out a sigh and call out,

“...Hello? Kacsper? Is that you?” It wouldn’t be the first time your employer had come by in the night to ensure a young woman alone would be safe at night, which you thought to be immensely invasive but, in this moment, you cannot stop yourself from hoping it was him.

“...Dear Heart?” A voice you didn’t expect at all replies, weak and choked. Jaskier. Only Jaskier has ever called you anything like Dear Heart, the only person to ever even think to call you by pet names, but not in that voice. Pained, like he was injured. Something logical in the back of your mind tries to remind you of Dopplers or any number of creatures that can change their voices, but the sound of your lover’s voice is enough to see you throw caution to the wind. You drop the blade to rip the door open, completely unfazed by the ear-splitting clatter of steel on wood. The door is open before you realise how forcefully you pull and there, shivering in the autumnal cold, is your bard.

It’s hard to tell in the minimal light of your cooking fire, but he looks a mess. Chestnut hair splayed across his forehead in wet clumps, from rain or sweat you have no idea, deep red doublet and trousers stained with something that could be either mud or blood, and eyes sunken and darkened from a lack of sleep and something else. A sort of... hunger, longing that you know, but not in this intensity- he would look at you like this before kissing you, or bedding you, like you were ephemeral and easily gone without his touch. His frame lurches, holding to the door frame for stability.

“Jask?” You whisper, and it’s enough for him to surge forward and crash his mouth to yours. The look in his eyes mirrors how he kisses you, hungry and rough, cracked lips moving against your own in such a way that you almost fear the blood you can taste is your own, but it’s definitely not. You feel like you ought push him away, chide him for coming so late and frightening you, but instead your arms wind around his neck to pull him closer still, lips moving gently against his, trying to slow the kiss. It’s been so long, too long, without his lips on yours, months without his touch when you would seldom live an hour without his touch. He takes the hint and the kiss instead turns sweet though still desperate, his hands resting on your hips even after you pull back and stare up at him like he’s a phantom or dream. “Jaskier, what are you doing here?”

“...I missed you.” He says simply, voice cracking and breaking your heart at just how sad he sounds. “I. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to intrude, Little Miss. I should-"

“Shut the door, Buttercup.” You interrupt him, hands sliding from his throat to hold his cheek. “And sit down. You look dead on your feet. Where's Ger?”

Jaskier flinches at the mention of the white-haired man but does turn to close your front door. As soon as it’s closed, keeping the cold somewhat at bay, his arms are around you once more and face buried into your hair, drawing a contented sigh from you while your own arms work their way around his back. It’s been far too long. He feels like he always has, soft but with a firm layer of muscle just beneath, not obvious by looking at him, but there none the less. Hugs have always felt restrictive, like being caged but his have always felt like safety. It’s the same now, just more tight, and you cannot tell if he knows how tightly he’s holding you. Honestly, you can’t bring yourself to care. He could leave a Jaskier shaped bruise on your flesh so long as he robs you of the Jaskier shaped hole in your heart. He doesn’t smell as usual though, lavender and musk replaced with sweat and sulphur, telling you just how long it must have been since last he bathed.

Deft fingers wind into the wispy hair at your nape at the same time that lips press to the crown of your head, followed by a deep inhale, you aren’t the only one to have missed the simple things like this. So much is hidden away in touch and smell, especially when not too long ago the two of you spent near every moment joined at the hip.

“You smell like posies.” He mumbles into your hair, and you smile weakly at the observation.

“You smell like death, Darling.” You reply before you really consider how mean the words are, though you hope your voice is playful. “I'll draw you a bath-"

“No, no, no. Don’t... don't move, Muse. Let me... Let me cherish this moment. Reunions are supposed to be a happy time.” He doesn’t sound happy; he sounds as if he's choking back tears. “Gods, how I’ve missed you, Dear Heart.”

“I missed you too, Buttercup. Like a lost limb.” It should seem a melodramatic turn of phrase, but it truly isn’t. It was like losing half of yourself to be away from him. Having him wrapped around you now is the closest to normal you’ve felt since leaving his side. “...Why are you here though, Love? Oughtn't you be with Ger-"

“Don’t say his name.” The usually sweet voice of your bard comes out venomous, and his grip only tightens, “I’m not travelling with the prick.”

The Prick. That’s new. So many of Jaskier’s songs are about the Witcher, but now he's the prick. You can’t help but blink in confusion, head tilting to look at your man but he instead swoops his head down to kiss you gently. He's trying to distract you, of that you're certain, but you decide it best to indulge him, kissing him sweetly and pulling back before he can deepen it.

“...Stew.”

It’s his turn to look confused, head tilted to one side to stare at you while you pull away.

“Stew?”

“Do you want some?” Gesturing blindly to the pot behind you, you begrudgingly break free of his hold on you. “You look hungry. Stew, a bath and then bed. I think it would do you the world of good.”

“When did you become a domestic goddess, Little Miss?” He asks incredulously, lips turning up in a smile. He’s taunting you, but you don’t care as long as he stays smiling. “My Little Miss would sooner skin a deer with her teeth than cook.”

“You can thank my mother for that. Old habits die hard, even if they are ones to make me a perfect wife.”

“You’re a perfect wife already.” He says with a degree of finality in his statement, sitting by the fire. He makes it sound like you are his wife, and the thought brings a blush to your cheeks. “Are you going to join me?”

“I need to get bowls for the stew.”

“I mean in the bath.” He shoots a wink in your direction that you suppose is meant to be flirty, but on this defeated looking Jaskier it comes across more pathetic than anything else. Had you been asked an hour before, you would have moved heaven and hell for a chance to be in your miniscule bath with the Bard, using bathing as a preamble to ride him until your brain and legs turn to jelly and there's more water out of the bath than in it, but this Jaskier needs a gentle hand, and a helping hand to remove the layer of grime and melancholy that is covering his entire being. “You... You don’t have to. I. I'm being presumptuous, aren’t I?”

“How?” You ask weakly, descending to your knees at the bard's side. “It's hardly the first time you've asked to see me unclothed.”

“It’s been months. You probably have a new lover. I mean, look at you, how could you not?” He asks, gesturing to your body as if it was supposed to mean something to you. “You look like a gift from on high, and I... I left you here. To grow soft, and gentle and domestic.” His hand rests on your thigh but there’s nothing romantic in the touch, just longing. Like, despite his hand on your bard flesh, you're in fact a thousand miles away or he's lamenting to the spectre of a lost love. “Someone else has snapped you up, and I’ve lost you, and come here, and you’re too polite to say no.”

“We both know I would never be made to do anything I don’t want.” You smile, and lean in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. He chuckles softly, and watches you as you ladle some stew into a bowl and hand it to him. “And I don’t. Have anyone else.”

“You said a man's name when I was at the door.”

“My employer. He’s... odd. Constantly sniffing about.” You reassure him, watching him spoon up some of the both and sip it before sighing, from the taste or reassured that you love him still. “If I didn’t want you, I’d have stabbed you.”

“You. You waited.” It’s a statement, and you nod simply in agreement.

“You said you'd come in winter.” His eyes focus on you once more, drinking you in like it is both the first and last time he shall see you.

“You look like you did the night we first met.” He says conversationally, and you smile, remembering how he had winked at you mid song. It feels a hundred years ago, though you know it couldn’t be more than six years ago. “I thought you were the most sublime creature on the planet. There’s not an ounce of feral in you, just... beauty and softness, with something wild behind the eyes.” He says soft like it’s a thing to be admired, not disparaged. His eyes, stormy blue and sad look about your childhood home with nostalgia for a time that you don’t know. “You look like a life worth living, Dear Heart.”

“...A life worth living?”

“Yes. This. This you, all gentle and half asleep, looking at me like you love me. A little home and a fire, Darling Love telling me to eat and bathe and sleep. Domestic. A life worth living.”

“I do love you Jaskier.” You interrupt, letting the words fall off your tongue like they’re the easiest thing in the world to say. They feel that way.

“You shouldn’t. I left you here.” The words come out hollow, and you take his hand from your thigh to your lips and kiss it. You can all but see the knotted weaves and threads of his mind, and hope the kiss will soothe them, even a little. His hand tugs free for a moment to ghost his fingers along the scar on your face, making you shiver.

“I was hurt.”

“I should have stayed. Should have stayed by your side.”

“You’re here now, Julian. That’s enough.” It shouldn’t be, but it is. He's here, not exactly as you’d like him to be, but having him beside you is more than enough. The comforting presence of warmth beside you is more than enough to wipe away the months of absence.

He sighs your name like a prayer, “I love you.”

“As you should.” You tease, and he places the bowl beside him to take your hands in his, prompting you to give up all pretence of propriety to instead climb onto his lap, intertwined fingers bridging the gap between your bodies. “You’re upset.”

“At the sight of the love of my life looking like a perfect little wife in an empty home.” Obtuse Jaskier might just be your least favourite form of the Bard, him trying to mask feelings he wears so openly, like he thinks you a fool. You’re unwilling to pry, though, so bite your tongue. “I’m half convinced I died on that mountain, and you’re just what my mind has created as a dying thought.”

“Shush.” You coo, lips chastely brushing against his. “You're as alive as I am, keep the melancholies out of it. If I look like some... darling bride then be quiet, seeing as that would make you a very foolish husband to spend your night bemoaning your fears and not kissing me.”

He chuckles at that, a small triumph, but enough to fill your heart to bursting point.

“I’d be a fool for leaving you here alone.” He starts but a sharp noise of annoyance cuts him off.

“Stay forever to make up for it, then.” You retort, “Sleep next to me until I can’t remember a single morning without you.”

He blinks at that, enrapturing you in how the black of his eyes swells until you cannot see any of the blue.

“You want me to stay?”

“For always.”

He grins, almost wide enough to distract from the tears that well in his eyes and you lean in to kiss him once more, his hands settling on your hips to pull you closer still. You've missed this, the stupidity that fills your head when his lips are on yours, tongue gently trailing along the seam of your mouth, never invasive, just inquisitive.

“You truly do need a bath though.” You grumble against his mouth, Jaskier pulls back in mock indignation.

“I know you don’t actually mean that and just want to undress me.”

“Oh, shut up, Dandelion.”

His hands turn from cradling to tickling, sending you into reams of laughter that he echoes. All, for just a moment, feels right in the world, now that he's with you again.

#jaskier imagine #jaskier x reader #jaskier x you #jaskier x y/n

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harryhubba · 4 years

Text

cold in LA

Jeff and Y/N fall asleep at David’s after a party and the rest of the group can’t seem to leave them alone

Request: I don’t know if you still do requests but I really want you to write (since your one of my favorite fanfic writers) a Jeff with imagine where Jeff and the reader are cuddling on David’s couch fast asleep after a party and then David and like other members of the vlog squad film them sleeping and then make fun of them in the morning if not I understand but your so so so so good at writing and I want someone to make it real for me thank you

ps could the reader be wearing jeffs sweatshirt

Warnings: None! Just friends to lovers fluff!

For the first time in weeks, it’s cold enough to wear a jacket. Sure, it’s winter in LA but with a heat wave each week and never ending sun, the closest you get to snuggling up in cosy clothes is throwing on a hoodie in the evenings. And when getting ready for a party, the last thing you thought of was picking up something warm on your way out - not when your outfit is this cute, anyways.

You’re dolled up in one of your favourite looks, sleek and sexy. Natalie offered to style your hair and Reggie’s done your makeup. With all the special attention, you’re feeling extra cute and not afraid to show yourself off.

The evening began as expected. As Natalie and Reggie came to pre drinks at your place, you met the others at whoever’s house party David had gotten you invited to. Music thumps in your ears before you even reach the house, and you only manage to spot David and Zane amongst the crowd, immediately going to greet them.

“Where are the others?” You ask. You feel a nudge as Natalie gently elbows your side, giggling.

“Looking for someone in particular. Y/N?” A frown graces your face as you push Natalie’s hand away. She’s the only one you confided in about your crush on Jeff. Since you met him, you felt drawn to him and as he opened up over time and you got to know his humour, your feelings have only intensified.

“Fuck off, Nat. Why don’t you go find Todd, huh?” You tease her, trying to push the subject away from you and Jeff. David only rolls his eyes at you both, telling you the others are somewhere inside.

“Lets go get drinks Y/N! We’re a cuter couple together than with any of them,” Nat drags you off to the bar, and drink after drink you start to get blurry eyed and loose. The harsh scent of alcohol can be smelt all around you, and over the pulsing of the music, a distant, hazy chatter was heard. You couldn’t make out the words of all the songs, but the laughter between you and Natalie was all you needed as you twirled around in the dancing crowd. You know at some point you found Carly, Erin and Zane, who dragged you up to dance on the table tops with them.

“I’m gonna go get some air!” It wasn’t until the room started to spin a little too much and the air around you felt too hot and muggy that you knew you had to step out.

“You alright by yourself, baby?” Zane calls to you as you start to clamber off the table. “Yes! I’ll see you in a second!”

Looking out into the crowd, you manage to head towards the door out to the balcony, taking in a deep breath of the cold air and leaning agains the wall facing LA’s skyline.

When Jeff sees Y/N resting outside, it takes everything in him not to stop and stare. She looks gorgeous, he thinks. But when does she not? She’s dressed as if she wanted to play with all his weaknesses. Her jeans were the perfect fit, black with white stitching at the seams that show off the perfect curve of her ass and - oh, her top. It was a slinky, black, edging on sheer, with slits up the side that were the dangerous reminder to him that she had forgone a bra tonight.

It takes him an utmost amount of strength to tear his feet off the ground and make his way over to her.

“Hey,”

“Oh!” She jumps. He chuckles a little as he watches the surprise fill her features, her body physically turning to face him and the shock on her face morphing into pure delight when she realises who he is.

“Jeff!” She exclaims, swinging one arm around his neck, standing on her tip toes and pulling him into a hug. It’s an awkward position, but he doesn’t mind, and she definitely doesn’t mind, or notice. She’s a little uneasy on her legs, blame the alcohol, that when she’s pulling away she stumbles forwards into his chest.

“Woah, y’alright?” It’s not surprising she didn’t notice his question with the alcohol in her system, only steadying herself with her hands on his shoulders. Jeff takes notice to how little her hands feel against him, then, how she’s still swaying a little now while holding on to him.

“I was looking for you when I was, uh… when I was-“ Y/N waves her right hand around, trying to think of the right word.

Jeff grabs a hold of her hand, flipping it around. “When you were what? You’re moving’ yeh hands like me when you talk now, huh?” He teases. Jeff smiles at the giggle that leaves her mouth and she squeezes her hand out of his hold to hit it gently against his chest.

“No, you dumbass. When I was inside, I meant…” Jeff watches the way her eyebrows furrow as she trails off, it’s cute he thinks, then her eyes flicker from his lips, his hands, the ground, then back to his eyes.

“Were you smoking?” Her question is honest, and innocent, yet Jeff feels a tang of annoyance. As he looks down at her, however, all he sees is her wide eyes, filled with only concern and compassion.

“No. ‘Quit that shit ages ago, you know that.” Glancing over his shoulder he continues. “Someone’s smoking back there.”

“Oooooooh right. Sorry. I knew that.”

Jeff hums a response and there’s a moment of silence as she looks out towards the view, moving her hands from his shoulders and leaning against the wall. Her back scuffs against the concrete and he can’t help but wonder if it scratches against her bare skin. Jeff wonders what she’s thinking about as she looks out. There wasn’t a cloud in the star speckled sky. Beyond the green from the hills was rows of lights, blinking as though someone threw a handful of glitter over the city. Was she thinking of him? Did she know he’s thinking of her?

“It’s so pretty, isn’t it? What’re you doing out here alone?” Only a second after her question, she looks up at him with a giggle and the twitch of a smirk on her face. “Too many pretty girls inside you couldn’t keep up?”

He chuckles. It’s not very often that he sees Y/N drunk but when he does, he’s noticed she has a habit of making herself laugh.

“Nah, just not feeling it tonight - you can only spend so much time around a drunk Todd when you’re sober. I could say the same thing about you out here anyways.”

It felt like liquid adrenaline being injected right into his bloodstream when she rests her head against his shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut. His skin tingled at her hair that brushes against his arm and the warmth of her body up beside his.

“Mmm, I’m just tired.” Her voice cracks as she speaks. It’s when he looks down at her that he notices goosebumps running down her arms and she suddenly feels bad for keeping her outside.

“Are you cold? Here-“ One hand wraps around her furthest shoulder to pull her off him and then he quickly tugs the hoodie from her body. She seems to have lost energy quickly and she blinks drowsily as she takes it from him, letting out a hum of satisfaction as it falls over her body. She’s looks as if she’s swimming in it. It’s cute, really cute. And when he notices the sweater paws he feels himself smile purely at how sweet she looks. If only he could see her every night in his clothes.

“Thanks, Jeff.”

“No worries. D’ya want me to give you a ride back? I was thinking of heading back and chilling at David’s early anyways but I can drop you home first?”

“I’ll come back with you to David’s. Don’t wanna go home alone, it’s lonely.” Jeff questions if she means this seriously, and she let it slip, or if she’s just rambling. Either way, he nods and tries not to let the idea of her wanting to be with him rather than be lonely get his hopes up.

The car ride feels short. Music from one of Jeff’s playlists plays quietly and while Y/N talks about everything possible on her mind at first, she eventually quiets down again and, although he loves to see her so chatty and open, he feels bad hearing her talk about things she might not want him to know in the morning. Even so, he does feel a little disappointed that she doesn’t mention him.

When getting out of the car, Y/N insists that he gives her a piggy back before skipping inside ahead of him. Suddenly, he thinks he should have asked how she’s had to drink.

He finds her rummaging through the cupboard David and Natalie keep their snacks in. It takes forever to get Y/N to drink a glass of water for him and take some aspirin, knowing it will make her feel better the next morning. Midway she reaches up to run her fingers through his hair, “You have such nice hair Jeff, t’so soft and thick and sexy-“ Jeff is very aware Y/N’s of the scratching against his scalp, and he knows Y/N’s not normally this touchy towards him. Knows it’s cause she’s drunk but he doesn’t mind, cause she smells nice and sweet and her fingers make his skin tingle, and he lets himself revel in it a little.

“M’such a lightweight, can’t believe I’m so drunk. I’m gonna take a nap before the others get back.”

“Alright, let’s get you on the couch then.” With guides her with a hand on her back and picks out a throw blanket for her, knowing she’ll want to be cosy.

“You’ll stay and cuddle with me, right?”

Heath’s the first one to walk into the living room later that night. Zane had found some stunt to film for David’s vlog and everyone was outside playing along. Heading to the living room to put his phone on charge, Heath freezes mid step with what he sees.

Jeff, the man who barely lets himself be affectionate and always puts up the tough guy act, has their very own Y/N curled up in his arms, fast asleep, legs tangled together and all. Her face is barely visible, hands covered by Jeff’s hoodie are tucked up under her cheek but you can clearly see Jeff’s - and Jeff’s arm wrapped around her waist.

It’s almost impossible for Heath not to let out an ‘awww’ at them. He’s had his suspicions of some feelings between the two of them, especially with Jeff struggling to keep his gaze off Y/N when they’re in a group. Instead, he creeps out to let the others know.

It’s Jeff who wakes up first, eyes blinking open to the noise of his friends spread out round the living room. No one’s noticed he’s awake yet, so he glances down at Y/N. She’s turned in her sleep towards him, her face snuggled in his neck and hands curled between their bodies. It’s a wonder she’s not awake yet, cause God knows everyone can be loud when they’re together. He can already sense the shit he’s gonna get so he clears his throat to draw attention to himself.

“Oh, wakey wakey Jeff, nice of you to join us.” Mocks Zane, laughing at him. David quickly joins in. “Yeah, what the fuck is this? You and Y/N?”

Jeff rolls his eyes at their reactions. “She was drunk and wanted to cuddle, nothings going on.”

“Aww, well I think it’s cute. You and Y/N” Nat pipes in, tapping Jeff on the calf. “Never seen you look so little and adorable!” She smirks at him.

“Can’t believe I missed out on Jeff hugs this isn’t fair.” Corinna comments.

Jeff’s chest shakes as he laughs and he briefly hopes Y/N isn’t waking up with his movement. “Fuck off, I don’t look small”

“You should check our Insta stories if you’re worried about that, man.”

Jeff does exactly that, scrolling through the groups stories to find videos of Y/N and him asleep together, with various captions and romantic songs - not to mention the extreme amount of tagged photos of you both. And although he wants to be annoyed that this is all publicised, really he finds himself scrolling through ship edits and screenshotting a cute photo for later. Maybe this is just a drunk fluke and tomorrow everything will be back to the way it was but he’s getting the feeling that maybe his crush isn’t as one sided as he thought it was.

#jeff wittek #jeff wittek imagine #jeff wittek smut #david dobrik #vlog squad

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jazminetoad · 3 years

Text

In My Reality | Prologue

Hey, I was bored so I decided to start a fanfic series of the Tatsumi Brothers from Juuni Taisen. Yay

It’s a “Tatsumi Brother x Reader” story about how the Tatsumi Brothers enter the reader’s reality which kinda flips her world upside down.

So I just finished the prologue. If you guys like it or if I’m bored again, I’ll make the first chapter. (Click “Keep Reading” to read the story)

"[Name] get out of bed; It's 3 in the afternoon," my mom told me as she came into my room with fresh, clean clothes. I didn't have to look over to know.

Groaning, I removed my mask from my eyes then rolled over to face up at the white ceiling. The sunlight seeping in from the blinds caused my sight to cringe before it finally adjected to the light and I could see the grey walls lurking in the corner of my eyes. Arising from my queen-sized bed a yawn escaped from my mouth. My form reached over and placed my sleep mask on the nightstand, next to my water mug.

"Morning mom," I greeted her as she sorted out the pile of clothes on my dresser. Looks like she did a colour load, which means no pants to put away.

"Morning sweetheart. Can you put your clothes away before you come downstairs?"

"Sure," I simply answered as I slipped out of the cozy sheets I once was tangled in.

"Thank you. I'll see you when you come down," she stated, placing the last of my t-shirts neatly on the others. Afterwards, she wrapped her arms around the remaining clean, clothes that weren't mine, carefully balancing them as she left my room and closed the door behind.

The click of the doorknob echoed into my ears when my feet landed on the fuzzy rug. My eyes drifted their gaze to the plain black bodypillow wrapped in [f/c] blankets, reminding me of a burrito. It just had the colour for the case, no special Anime character on it. I wish there were one though; it'd make the nights seem less lonely to see my favourite character's face on it. However, a pillow is a pillow. Despite me using it as an illusion for myself it doesn't change the reality that when I hug it in my sleep or when I'm awake no arms will return my embrace.

A sigh falls out of my breath, my eyelids dropping in sync. I turned my head away from the lying pillow and dragged myself to the other side of my bed, towards the dresser that patiently held the clean clothes my mom put there. I opened a drawer, putting my undergarments away first then my socks. Once those were put away, I moved to retrieve hangers from my closet, passing by my desk and shelves as I did.

If you were wondering why I slept so late into the afternoon, well, it's currently winter break, so that means I can stay up late and sleep in late past noon. Sadly enough, it's January which means the break almost over, and that means school is standing around the corner, menacingly. Just the thought of it disturbs my mind as that reality tries to infect my thoughts.

I hate reality. I know not all of it is shit, but there's enough of it that makes me want to drown myself in the world of fiction. Whenever it's the weekend or breaks from school, I binge Anime, tv shows, YouTube, and movies, so that's the only thing on my mind. I then write or read fanfiction, there is the rare occasion I sketch something but I'm not good at art since I don't practice enough. By the time I return to reality after having my head stuck in my imagination for so long, I can barely focus without going back to daydreaming. Eventually, that wears off, and then reality is what floods my brain; I despise it but I know I can't be stuck in my fantasies forever. Luckily my friends provide that nice spot in-between for me, helping me stay in the real world but also let me discuss the fictional. Then there's also my bro.

"Yo sis," my brother's voice called from the other side of the door after his fist knocked on it. "You wanna continue Code Geass?"

My bro is the best. Unlike most siblings I know, we actually get along. He's also a big help in my life, one of the reasons why I haven't lost my mind. He makes sure I don't overwork & stress myself and reminds me to have fun and chillax. I love him for it, and he's practically my best friend. We aren't the exact same age but we were born in the same year, just a few months apart so we get to be in the same grade. He's the older one. He's also taller which means he can t-pose over me, and we reenact the meme; it's great.

"Yeah," I answered. "Just let me get ready."

"Alright," he replied before I felt the vibration of his footsteps grow distant from my room.

'Heh, if I had Takeyasu's ability, I'd be able to sense his movement better.'

I chuckle to myself at the thought floating in my mind as I put the final shirt away. My two favourite characters that I desired to be real was the Tatsumi Brothers, Nagayuki and Takeyasu. I love those two. Whenever I watched their episodes from Juuni Taisen, I always smile. They make my heart feel something that I never felt for any character before. I don't want to be cliche and say true love, but to me, that's what it feels like. I know they're fictional characters, so I won't get much out of it, but strangely enough, I'm okay with that. I can't imagine my heart belonging to anyone else. I do wish they were real, though. I even used my wish on the bracelet my friend, Meri-chan, got for my birthday one year, that they'd become real.

The bracelet was some urban legend. It was lime green and had a few beads on it. The legend goes that you make a wish and when the bracelet breaks, your wish has come true. 'Course, it's most likely a bunch of baloney but that didn't stop me from wishing that the Tatsumi Brothers would become real. I currently just wear the bracelet as an accessory since the wish probably won't happen, it's not like the thing is going to break anytime soon.

Grabbing my towel, my other hand opened my door. I slipped down the hallway and slid into the bathroom, my foot pushing the door closed as I put the towel on the towel rack. Hopefully, I don't take too long because we were left on edge on the last episode of Code Geass we watched. Well, I'll finish sooner than my wish coming true that's for sure, heh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay bro but if you think about it, Lelouch-"

"[Name], I washed your school uniforms. Can you put them away while I start on tacos?" Mom requested from the kitchen, interrupting the Anime, my commentary, and reminding me that school is coming soon. "You too, [b/n]."

"Yes, mom," we both respond.

My brother picked up the remote and hit the pause button so we wouldn't miss anything. I pulled myself up from the plush couch, disappointment growing on me since I had hoped not to be interrupted until dinner was ready. Well, I guess I could let the disappointment wither away since it's Taco Tuesday, my favourite. I chuckled to myself as my feet reached the next level above the main floor and headed down the open hallway to my room.

My laughter died out upon seeing my seven school uniforms, five that were the regular female uniform and two that were gym uniforms. Unlike most students, I didn't like the idea of having to wash my uniform every day, so to make things simpler, I paid for six more with my own money. It was a bit irritating, using the money I earned from my summer job for this instead of getting something else. Still, my practical choice, so I didn't necessarily have to worry about my mom washing my uniform every night.

"Hhhhhh, why does school have to come back so soon?" I asked myself as I picked up one of the uniforms.

The uniform wasn't too special, a simple white blouse, a blue skirt, a blue jacket, and a blue & black striped tie. Students could decide if we wanted to wear tights, leggings, or shorts underneath the skirt as long as it was black or white. I wore leggings unless it was summer which I then wear shorts and knee-high socks. There are those girls that only wear thigh-high socks and panties under their skirt to which my nerd brain questions why. 'Course that's their choice, have fun with your ass cold.

A Discord ringtone made me resurface from my pond of inner thoughts. Becoming aware of my surroundings, I realized my friends Meri-chan and Kamida were calling on the Discord group chat we had. I could tell by the laptop I had open on my desk. I quickly put the uniform I had in hand on the rack with the others before sliding over and clicking the answer button that popped up.

"Yo, what's up nerds."

"Hey I'm not a nerd," Meri-chan protested. "I'm a cool kid."

"Meri-chan, we're all nerds here," Kamida stated before greeting me. "Hey [n/n], how you doing?"

"Eh, good I suppose but I could be doing better, Kami," I answered simply. "How's life?"

"Pretty chill but I got bored, so I decided to call you guys."

"Well, I'm just putting my uniforms away," I informed them and went to put the last uniform away.

"I sometimes forget that you have more than one," Meri-chan commented before I heard her gasp. "Hey, how 'bout we hang out tomorrow, we only have so many days before we have to go back to school."

"Oh, don't remind me," I groaned, hanging my head, then went back to putting the uniform on the hanger and walking over to the closet, hanging it up with the rest.

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea Meri-chan, we could hang out tomorrow," Kamida suggested.

"I'm down," Meri-chan quickly responded.

"Welllllll..." I hesitated, sitting down in the [f/c] spinning chair in front of the desk.

"[Name]."

"You see, I kinda want to stay inside my last few days..."

"[n/nnnnn]!" Meri-chan whined.

"Come on [Name], you know you can't stay cooped up inside forever," Kamida reminded me.

"I know," I grumbled, leaning back in my seat. "Fine, I'll come out tomorrow, but it's going to be after 2."

"2 am, geez [n/n] I didn't know you'd be willing to come out that early," Kamida joked.

"I meant 2 pm," I corrected.

"Okay," he chuckled as Meri-chan pipped in.

"But if you're late again, you're buying lunch this time."

"Okay, bet, but what if I'm not?" I inquired, my fingers tapping on my desk.

"Mmmmmmm," she hummed, seemingly to be thinking.

"It's fine I'll pay for lunch tomorrow."

"Alright, but don't use it as an excuse to be late."

"I won't," I reassured her. "Anyway, I'm gonna go watch a few more episodes of Code Geass with my bro-"

"You still need to watch Dragon Ball Z," Kamida interrupted.

"And you need to watch Juuni Taisen," I countered, emphasizing the "you".

"Yeah, yeah," he brushed it off. "Anyway, go have fun with your bro. We'll call again later on tonight."

"Alright, bye guys." I left the call and closed out of discord then proceeded to shut my laptop.

Kamida and Meri-chan were my two friends from school; we've known each other since childhood. 'Course Meri-chan isn't Meri-chan's real name, that's just a nickname Kamida and I gave her. Occasionally, they called me [n/n]-chan but not too often. Then there are times where we call Kamida, Kami-kun, but mainly Meri-chan does it out of spite since Kamida doesn't like it. Especially when Meri-chan does it in her kawaii voice. Those two are the only ones outside of family that have the same vibe I do, that's probably why we've been friends for so long.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hey, you guys ever wish fictional characters could become real?" I randomly asked out of the blue, staring up at the white ceiling as I waited for my friends over the call to answer my question.

"All the time," Meri-chan answered.

"We know simp," Kamida smugly commented.

"Nuuu!" Meri-chan pouted while Kamida and I laughed. "Hey, if anything [n/n] is the simp over here, she's the one actual crushing on the characters."

"Hey don't call me out like that."

"Ha! She doesn't deny it," Kamida jeered.

"Okay, what about you and Android 21?"

"Ack-" Kamida blurted before muting himself, causing me and Meri-chan to giggle. A few seconds pass by before he unmuted himself. "Why are you asking this question [n/n]?"

"No reason in particular-"

"Are you sure it's not you wanting to talk about Juuni Taisen?"

"No- it's not just that. I just think fictional characters would make reality interesting."

"Right..."

"Meri-chan if you could bring someone from Juuni Taisen to-"

"My boy Uuma! You should know this by now."

"Bruh-"

"Well, it's either that or Usagi, and I rather be alive thank you."

"Who's Uuma again?" Kamida inquired, not knowing who was who quite yet since he hasn't watched the Anime.

"Uuma is the warrior of the horse," I informed him.

"Right," Kamida mumbled before letting out a yawn.

"You sound tired, go to sleep!" Meri-chan told Kamida.

"No, you go to sleep."

"Guys, we're all on the same timezone. If one of us goes to sleep then we all do," I stated. "It makes sense since we're all planning on meeting up tomorrow."

"I guess we go to sleep," Meri-chan said bluntly.

"Yeah, alright, goodnight guys," Kamida yawned.

"Night."

"Night guys."

With that, we each left the call. I, however, didn't fall asleep right away. I woke up late and the night was still pretty early, so I opened up the Funimation app on my phone. Scrolling through the list of saved Anime, most of which were halfway through since my brother and I are watching them together, I came across Juuni Taisen.

"Why not..." I muttered to myself as my finger tapped on the Anime and went right to click on episode 7, In Like a Dragon, Out Like a Snake (Part 1).

By the time I finished episodes 7 and 8, it was 2 am when my eyes glanced at the clock in the top corner of my phone. Sighing to myself, I leaned over and snatched my charger off the nightstand, plugging it in the wall before connecting the other end to my phone. Turning off my phone, I placed it on the nightstand and snagged my sleep mask, putting that on my head.

As I laid there on my bed, silence flooded the room, not a sound to be heard but my own breathing. Vines of sorrow began to grow on me as the feeling of loneliness came over me. I tried to pull myself out of the emotion, turning over and wrapping my arms around the plain bodypillow in an attempt to comfort myself. In the end, it only helped slightly. It didn't erase the pain because I knew there were no arms that would hug me back. A tear escaped my eyes before I pulled my mask over them, and a final thought appeared in my mind before I entered the dream realm.

'I wish I wasn't alone...'

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"Congratulations, Tatsumi {Ani|Otouto}, warrior of the {dragon|snake}!" Duodecuple exclaimed. "You are the winner of the 12th Juuni Taisen, everyone give yourself a hand!" The man started to applaud but soon stopped. "The antidote has settled in by now. You'll be fine."

{"Tch|Alright"} the Tatsumi brother simply responded.

"Now that you've won the Juuni Taisen, you can make one wish of your choice. Would you like to make your wish now, or would you like for it to be granted later?"

"In all honesty, when I arrived at the Juuni Taisen I wished for {nothing|money}, I didn't need anything else really but now that {I'm here|I had time to think about} I don't want to wish for {nothing|money}."

"Oh, do you have another wish in mind?" Duodecuple inquired the Tatsumi brother sitting in front of him, alone.

"Yeah... I wish me and my brother were never apart of the Juuni Taisen."

#tatsumi brothers #tatsumi kyoudai #tatsumi kyoudai ani #tatsumi kyoudai otouto #nagayuki tsumita #takeyasu tsumita #takeyasu #nagayuki #tatsumi brothers x reader #juuni taisen #juuni taisen au #juni taisen #juni taisen x reader #juuni taisen x reader #juuni taisen: zodiac war #juuni taisen snake #juuni taisen dragon #juuni taisen zodiac war #spot the reference

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hephaestiions · 3 years

Text

thank you @stavromulabetaaa for tagging me in this wonderful game!! it’s so much fun and such a lovely way to get to know the people behind the blogs that make the fandom experience better <33

1. why did you choose your url?

why did i choose this url? i saved the url way before i made the blog, and the reasoning is a bit foggy but i do remember wanting to be very clear on it being a drarry blog (makes the anon who sent me the ‘why do u rb so much drarry’ ask that much more hilarious) and added the ‘oh’ because it expresses a certain sentiment that most drarry shippers are intimately familiar with 😂

2. sideblogs?

this blog is itself a sideblog, my main is @yesperfahey . that said, i am going to be embarrassingly exposed, but: @kitchenism (aesthetic sideblog where i rb reference photos, aesthetic images, web weaving posts, etc.), @geetstudies (studyblr), @yusufalkasayni (for films/tv shows, it was supposed to inspire me to watch more stuff but it’s languishing inactive mostly), @doriangray (dark academia, classics, pretty edits + moodboards + occasional fashion inspiration, etc.), @psykhes (mythology), @andrewminyyard (for aftg and trc) and @stevenroguers (for marvel and stucky). i have a few others but they aren’t particularly relevant or active and i don’t want this to go on forever.

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

i think about 5/6 years.

4. do you have a queue tag?

yes!!! it’s potteresqueue !! i have a separate queue tag for every single one of the blogs you’ve seen up top but this one is one of my favourites.

5. why did you start your blog?

i started my main because tumblr was the fandom hub and i was neck deep in drarry as a teenager, but this specific sideblog happened when i started segregating my interests into separate blogs and wanted to be more active specifically in the drarry fandom.

6. why did you choose your icon?

it’s a picrew of me from my favourite picrew!! it’s too slytherin from back when i thought i was a slytherin and i might change the colours a little to fit the ravenclaw vibe better, but the slightly grumpy lesbian is here to stay <33

7. why did you choose your header?

i searched up drarry headers and this was one of the first ones i found. i think i’m going to change it, because while it does fit the aesthetic of my blog, i’m all about desi!harry. much as i love dan radcliffe, he’s stopped being the harry i imagine in my head.

8. post with most notes?

this one which is surprising, because i posted it,,,, two days ago, i think? people seem to enjoy me writing fluff, who would’ve thought. i’m not a big blog and i don’t create a ton of original content on tumblr, so it’s not objectively a ‘big post’ but it makes me happy either way to know a bunch of people chose to spend their time reading what i had to say <33

9. how many mutuals do you have?

tumblr’s system for checking this is... very basic and full of holes so i have no idea but i get very excited whenever an url i recognise likes/reblogs/comments/tags me in anything, so if you’re a mutual, then please know i cherish you deeply and you make my day whenever i see you in my notifs <33

10. how many followers do you have?

tumblr hides this for a reason, i choose to not share this <3

11. how many people do you follow?

520. i used to follow upwards of 900, but i purged many inactive blogs a few months ago so we’re at 520.

12. ever made a shitpost? not with that specific intention, i don’t think, but the #geets.txt tag on this blog and others feels plenty shitpost-y to me.

13. how often do you use Tumblr each day?

😬 i’m... very online. tumblr is my safe space on the internet and i spend a great deal of time on here with little regret.

14. did you ever have a fight/argument with another blog?

i don’t think so? i’ve got a couple rude anons, but those don’t count, right? there was a whole Situation on my main once upon a time, but i stay pretty chill on this one and i hope it stays that way.

15. how do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

i choose to ignore that line if it’s there. if i agree with the message and think it’s an important one to have on my blog, then i reblog, but if it’s a post that’s either fishing or guilt-tripping or being threatening, then i scroll past. i understand where the sentiment comes from but there’s a better way to phrase these things.

16. do you like tag games?

i love them, they’re so much fun.

17. do you like ask games?

yes!! ‘someone thought of me?? someone remembered me? someone went into my askbox to say this???? i am a puddle of love’

18. which of your tumblr friends/mutuals do you think is famous?

fame on tumblr is a myth, honestly

19. do you have a crush on a mutual? so many tumblr crushes. So. Many. everybody is so lovely, so welcoming, so full of excitement and appreciation for art and creativity, how could i not?

tagging @shealwaysreads @tackytigerfic @dragontamerdame @onbeinganangel @the-starryknight @orange-peony @drarrymybeloved @amortentiaboys @hogwartsfirebolt if they want to do it/haven’t already done it. this was quite a bit of fun so if you want to do it and i haven’t tagged you, then this is an open tag for you too <3

#geets.txt #tagged

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smallheathgangsters · 4 years

Text

At Home | F.S.

A/N: Finally another Finn request! I really adore writing for him 😍. I actually very much like this piece of writing, so I hope you do too! Also, I left out prompt #33, because I’ve already written a request with that one, but I tried including it in a way that’s hopefully okay :) Like I always say, feedback is always welcome! ❤️ oh, and please consider that English is not my first language and I’m sorry this turned out so long again, I just couldn’t help myself oops

Request: “8 and 33 with finn?” by Anon

Pairing: Finn Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 2664

Type: angst, fluff

----------------------------------------------------

You’d known Finn since you were about three years old, playing in the dirty streets of Small Heath together. And the older the two of you got, the tighter your bond grew, making you the best of friends.

At the age of sixteen you had to realise that your feelings towards Finn had changed. It wasn’t the brotherly love anymore you’d been feeling up until then. It was the love that made you want to grab his face and kiss him. It was the one that made you want to cuddle up to him at night and caress his soft skin in the mornings.

Little did you know, Finn had been feeling the same way. Luckily, he had been more courageous than you, giving you an unexpected peck on the lips when he had dropped you off in front of your house after a day of hanging out together. It had taken you by surprise, but you’d never been happier in your life. All of your wishes had come true and you didn’t understand what you did to deserve it.

Since then, the two of you had been a couple. It was hard for your families to imagine their everyday life without you being together, waiting for the day you and Finn were old and mature enough to get married. It was crystal-clear to them that you’d eventually end up being wife and husband. While your parents loved Finn and wouldn’t wish for any other man by your side, Finn’s family felt the same towards you. Finn and you really had been a match made in heaven.

In the year the two of you turned eighteen, Finn started working more and more for the Shelby business, Tommy letting him be increasingly involved in everything going on in the betting shop and outside. At the beginning, you were very supportive of him. You could feel his excitement of receiving responsibilities and challenging tasks. Although only a few years later, you had to notice Finn’s mood change as a result of the type of work his family was doing. The initial excitement turned into exhaustion and whenever you met up after work in the apartment, he had now been able to buy with the money he made, he wasn’t able to concentrate on conversations you were holding. You could feel his mind being occupied with work all the time, having a hard time not worrying about the assignments Tommy had given him and simply relaxing whenever he wasn’t at the betting shop helping his brothers on business trips and deals.

Another thing you had noticed was his personality shifting. Finn used to be the sweetest, most caring boy you’d ever met. His priority had always been your happiness and whenever you felt down, he was right there to cheer you up. Finn had been the one to initiate almost every cute date you went on, whether it had been a picnic out in the country or a quick coffee at a café. You’d never seen him be mean to anyone, ever, using his reputation to help bullied kids at school or girls being harassed by boys instead of abusing it to his own advantage.

Now, he’d started being very cold towards you, not listening to you when you told him about something that had happened that day or you weren’t feeling your best, longing for a shoulder to cry on. You could sense it had nothing to do with his feelings towards you, you’d known Finn for way too long. It had to do with his work and the way he had to act in front of his brothers in order to be taken seriously, and you started becoming more and more unhappy with the situation it was bringing your relationship into.

But no matter how distant Finn had become, you just couldn’t feel any anger towards him.

It wasn’t at all that you hadn’t been angry. You’d been very angry, as a matter of fact. But not a Finn. You’d been angry at Tommy and Arthur and John and the Shelby company and the business deals.

All of those things made your blood boil. But Finn still made your knees weak and your heart race. That had also been the reason why you had decided to surprise him today after work by picking him up and taking him to a nice restaurant for him to wind down and forget about all the stress.

When you pushed open the front door to the betting shop, you realised it had been quite a while since the last time you’d been there.

“Y/N, what a lovely surprise!” you heard John shout from the large chalk board at the other end of the room. “Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Nice to see you too, John,” you replied, smiling at him. “Do you know where Finn is?”

“Still in his office,” John said and pointed to the door of his office. “The boy’s been really hard-working lately.”

“Yeah …” you mumbled, your eyes fixed on his office door. “Thanks anyway.”

John gave you a cheeky grin. “Nothing to thank me for, sweetheart.”

You walked over to Finn’s office and knocked at the door. After waiting a few seconds, you heard him answer. “Yes?”

You pushed open the door carefully and stepped into the room, your gaze falling on a very stressed-out looking Finn, leaning back in his chair and massaging the bridge of his nose closed-eyed. “John, I told you I’ll be there any–“

Finn hadn’t realised it was you that had entered the room until he opened his eyes. “Y/N?”

You gave him a friendly smile and walked over to his desk, leaning against it with both of your hands. “Hello, sweet boy.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I could feel you being very stressed out about work lately and I thought I could take you on a date night to one of our favourite restaurants,” you suggested, smiling widely. “It would be a great opportunity for us both to relax a little and just enjoy each other’s company.”

But instead of being excited about your proposal, he just sighed and ran his hand over his face. “Can’t we do that another time, Y/N?”

Your smile vanished from your face. “W– what do you mean?”

“I’m just not feeling it,” he said coldly, shrugging his shoulders.

His words stung. “When do you have time then?”

He sighed again. “I don’t know, Y/N. Like next week maybe.”

“Fuck you, Finn,” you said, gritting your teeth and pushing yourself away from the desk.

You had been very patient. You had been understanding, loving and supporting. You had blamed everyone else, just to not have to be angry at Finn, because you didn’t have the heart to be mad at him. But right now, he was really testing your nerves and could feel yourself snap.

“Excuse me?” he said, frowning.

“Do you think this if funny?”

Finn pushed himself out of his chair and stood up, now leaning against the table himself. He locked his eyes with yours, the blue in them you chills. “What the fuck about my face is giving you the impression that I’m laughing?”

“I’m talking about how you’re treating me, Finn,” you hissed. Your voice took on a tone that you never knew you had in you. Even Finn seemed a little surprised, his frown vanishing for a second. But he composed himself quickly. “How am I treating you?”

“I feel as if you’re taking me for granted. Taking everything I do for you for granted,” you explained angrily. Your heart was beating fast and you felt a knot build up in your stomach.

“I never expected anything from you,” Finn said annoyed, throwing his hands.

You gritted your teeth together ever harder, trying to hold back the tears that were building up at the corners of your eyes. “You’ve changed so much, Finn. This fucking job has changed you so much! I just wanted to do something nice for you and you’re treating me so awfully!”

“Just because I’m not feeling like going on a romantic dinner with you?”

You let out a frustrated sound. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re not seeing that you’re pushing me away further every day? Or is that exactly what you’re trying to do? Do you want me to fucking leave?”

The last few words came out as a sobbing mess. All you’ve ever given Finn was love and affection. Even though you still adored him so much, you had to admit to yourself that this relationship wasn’t healthy anymore and you deserved better.

“I think you need to calm down.”

That was all Finn replied. Your heart sunk and you immediately stopped holding back your tears. You let them stream down uncontrollably. You watched him walk over to the hanger and grab his coat. “I’m going to The Garrison with the boys, we can talk later if you want.”

“I don’t think we’ll ever be talking again after this,” you spat and burst out of his office and the betting shop before he was able to get to the door, crying your eyes out the entire way home.

***

From that day on, you totally ignored Finn. You knew the silent treatment was harsh and actually wasn’t at all your personality, but you realised it had to be this way. You weren’t going to be the one crawling back to Finn, even though you still loved him so much and cried yourself to sleep every night. It was hard getting normal everyday tasks done while carrying this burden on your shoulders.

Finn had tried talking to you on different occasions, waiting for you in front of your parent’s home or after school, when you had finished teaching your class, but you had consequently ignored him, not even giving him a look when you pushed past him, hurrying down the streets as fast as you could so he wasn’t able to catch up with you.

Every time you did that, your heart clenched, and you had to pull yourself together to try your hardest not to talk to him or fall back into his arms. You missed his scent, his warmth, his voice. You missed everything about him.

You were able to continue this behaviour about three weeks when one day, you spotted Finn standing and waiting in front of the school you taught at. You wanted to hurry past him like you’d done all the other times, but he unexpectedly grabbed you aggressively by your wrist. “Fuck, Y/N, please talk to me!”

You tried to twist out of his grip, but he didn’t let loose. “This has to stop! I can’t watch you run away from me any longer!”

You lifted your head and glared at him with teary eyes. You hadn’t noticed that hearing his pleading voice would make you emotional so quickly. “All you’re getting is a taste of your own medicine, Finn.”

His face dropped and you could see him hurting. But you told yourself to stay strong. There was no way you were going weak just because he got a hint of how he had made you feel for a very long time.

“I’m sorry for what I’ve put you through,” he whined, still gripping your arm.

“Do you even know what you’re sorry for? Or are you only apologising because you hate being brushed off by me?” you hissed, teary eyed.

“N– no, I–“ he stammered, but you could sense that he wasn’t exactly sure what brought your relationship to this point.

“Fuck, Finn! Are you really that blind?” you gasped speechlessly. “Don’t you realise that your job is tearing us apart? That it’s ruining not just our relationship but our friendship as well?”

Finn gulped audibly and started letting go of your arm. You immediately pulled it away and took a step back from him. Then you crossed your arms and looked down at the ground again.

“You don’t even seem to notice yourself changing …” you whispered sadly.

Suddenly you felt a pair of arms wrap around your body. Finn pressed you closely to his chest and placed his chin on the top of your head. “I’m sorry you’re suffering because of me, Y/N. And no, I do feel that I haven’t been the same …”

“You do?” you sniffled, letting him hug you tightly. This was the place you wanted to be and belonged to.

“It’s just been very hard lately …” he mumbled, and you could hear him choke on his own words. “It’s been fucking hard.”

You lifted your head from his chest and looked up at him, your sight still blurry from all the tears in your eyes. “Then let me help you, Finn. I’ve never not been there for you when you needed my support.”

“All I’ve been trying to do is make Tommy see me as an equal, a man, somebody they can trust and not just their useless little brother,” he exclaimed frustrated.

“You’re not useless, Finn! You have qualities that all of your brothers only dreamed they had!”

“Like what?” he huffed, almost rolling his eyes at your comment.

You pushed yourself away from him to grab his face with both of your hands and look him deeply into his eyes. “Finn Shelby, you are the kindest, most caring human being with the biggest heart. That may not be a trait that Tommy sees as a valuable one for his business, but it is one he probably wished he still had. Being nice isn’t a bad thing, Finn. And if they think that you’re not worth working with them because you’re not as cold-hearted and emotionless as them, what kind of brothers are they?”

Finn inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, taking in your words. He opened them again, when you continued speaking. “You don’t need to change for them, Finn. Please. I love the man you were before. Whoever you’re trying to pretend to be just doesn’t suit you at all, makes you miserable, if anything.”

He gave you a sad look. “I’ve been really unhappy, Y/N.”

You sobbed. “I know, Finn. I’ve known all this time, but you wouldn’t let me in, wouldn’t let me help you.”

“But I really want to stay in my family’s business …” he said quietly, almost insecure, making you stare into his ocean eyes even more intensely. “And you will! Your brothers accept and love you the way you are, trust me.”

He sighed heavily and leaned his forehead against yours. “Forgive me? I know I’ve been the worst, but I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Of course, I forgive you, Finn,” you told him with a soft voice, trying to give him as much comfort as possible. “I knew all of this was never directed against me. But I had to take care of myself as well.”

“I understand,” Finn said and caressed your cheek with his thumb. Suddenly a weak smile danced at the corners of his mouth. “I love you. You know that?”

“Yes, Finn, I know. And I love you too.”

You gave him a wider smile, trying to cheer him up. You hated seeing your boyfriend upset, he didn’t deserve any kind of unhappiness.

He then pulled his head away from yours and observed your face. His weak smile from before turned into a genuine one and his soft hand pushed away a strand of hair from your cheek.

“Kiss me please,” he whispered. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I really miss your lips.”

You giggled. “No, you don’t deserve it. But I missed your lips as well.”

Your arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer again, locking your lips with his passionately. It was all you needed in that moment. Finn was where you felt at home, safe in his embrace, where nothing could ever get to you.

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illfoandillfie · 4 years

Text

Welcome Home

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Summery: Roger’s delayed getting home from tour.

Warnings: SMUT (18+),but it’s like light smut lmao,cock warming,morning sex,just like some fluffy bullshit really

Words: 2326

A/N: Been a lil minute since I wrote Rog and I kinda missed him. this idea came to me last week and wouldn't leave me alone lmao

Taglist: @laedymoon @dtfrogertaylor @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @supersonicfreddie @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands @borhapbois

It had been a couple of months since you’d seen Roger face to face. The biggest downside of dating a rock star was dealing with his absence. Everyone seemed insistent on dragging him away from you, often to the other side of the world. You took comfort knowing he missed you as much as you missed him, and that he was leaving you to live out his lifelong dream. What could be more important than that? When he was away, he called frequently to check in with you. You’d laugh about whatever drama he’d had to endure during rehearsal (though privately you were sure he exaggerated) and then you’d tell him all about what he was missing back home. But the further into the tour he got, the more the calls changed. Gone were the long conversations that unpacked every minute aspect of your day. They were replaced with long conversations that answered the question how was your day? in the first five minutes and dedicated the rest of the time to talk of possible ways to celebrate his eventual return, growing steadily filthier. The problem was that, having moved in together, you’d become accustomed to a certain amount of physical intimacy that you just weren’t getting without Roger there. You missed being able to startle him by laying ice cold hands against the back of his neck, missed cuddling up with him on the couch. You even missed the way he’d pinch your bum as he hugged you, laughing when you squealed in response and batted his chest with your palm. Of course, you missed the sex too. He’d always claimed to be a good lay and, so far, he hadn’t disappointed you. It wasn’t always easy to unwind after a long or hard day of work without being able to grab Roger by the hand and pull him into the bedroom for a few hours, and sometimes the forced abstinence just added to any tensions or stresses you were already dealing with. Plus it was nice to have someone you enjoyed having sex with, who liked making you feel good, and it kind of just sucked to lose that. So being stuck with nothing but your imagination soon had you desperate for Roger’s return and he seemed to feel the same. By the end of the tour you’d abandoned all pretence and we just having straight up phone sex every other night, Roger locked away in his hotel room, you wherever you’d happened to pick up the phone – bedroom or kitchen or lounge room, it didn’t matter.

There was some mild embarrassment at the thought of what may be said of you if anyone were to overhear. Things mentioned in the heat of the moment often seemed silly after you’d hung up, the fog of needy lust subsiding. But while you were on the phone you couldn’t care less who heard what, as long as Roger was there, listening to you, describing his own ideas in response. It was good that Roger had just as large a disregard for anyone else’s ears as you because you were sure one of the boys would be in the room next to his, probably able to hear everything he said. Perhaps if they’d been able to hear your voice, your moans, you would have been more concerned, but you were alone on your end of the line, free to be as loud as you liked. And when you were lying in bed, one hand shoved down the front of your pants, listening to Roger describe how he wanted to fuck you, loud is exactly what you were. The hand that wasn’t pressed to your clit held the phone held tight to your ear, as if loosening your grip would shake you loose from Roger himself.

“Christ I miss your cunt,” he groaned down the line, the sound of his hand sliding over his dick audible beneath his words, “tell me you miss my cock,”

“God yes Rog,” you whined, a little startled by just how much you meant it. “Miss how you fuck me. My fingers are fucking shit compared to the way it feels when you fill me,”

“Shit, love. The second I see you I’m going to slide into your pussy and just stay there for as long as I can.”

“I’ll squeeze down on you,” you warned, not in the mood to think about being full and unfucked.

“Good. I’ll cum in you and then stay there until you’re squirming and begging and I’m hard enough to pound you. Fuck you so loud the neighbours complain. Might even keep myself stuffed inside you until I can start round three.”

“Jesus Rog,”

“You like the sound of that? Being my own personal cock sleeve?”

“Mmhmm, so much. You could live in me. Just stay inside me forever, fucking me and pumping me full of cum over and over.”

“Fuck. I can hear how wet you are.”

So it usually went, or something similar.

But, unfortunately, your most recent phone call was nowhere near as fun. Roger had meant to be home by six. You’d been excited and spent the afternoon getting things ready. A nice hot bath with your favourite scents, fresh sheets for you to ruin the minute he walked in the door, a bottle of wine for afterwards. It would pair nicely with the steaks and sides you’d prepped – all easy and fast to cook as soon as you’d recovered enough. You even put on some of your nicest underwear. Not your fanciest lingerie because it was likely to be torn in his haste to undress you, but it was a matching set and one you knew he liked. But six o’clock came and went and he didn’t walk in the door. Enough time passed that you’d gotten cold waiting in just your undies, so you’d thrown a robe over the top and settled in front of the TV under a blanket. But it was hard to relax when you didn’t know where Roger was or why he hadn’t come home when he said he would. After a few more hours the phone rang and you raced to it, slightly worried you were about to hear something devastating. You sighed in relief at the sound of Roger’s voice but he didn’t have much time to chat. He rushed out an explanation for his being late – something about a weather delay and missing luggage – and then hung up again. A little upset at having to wait even longer to see him, and that your night had been ruined, you fixed yourself a quick dinner, leaving the steaks for the next day instead. You didn’t change though, just in case, your head flicking towards the front door at every little sound. It was late when you finally decided to call it a night, stumbling up to your room, not even bothering to change into pyjamas before you slipped under the covers.

The next thing you knew was being woken by someone climbing into bed next to you, the chill of his fingers making you shiver as he brushed hair off your face. You cracked an eye open, but the sun hadn’t risen and it was hard to see more than a vague outline, Roger’s quick apology for waking you confirmation of who he was. He felt you move to try and get a better look and softly told you to go back to sleep. Instead you waited for him to finish undressing and then shuffled closer, reaching out for him. He let you wrap your arms around him, repaid you with a soft kiss.

“You’re home,” you mumbled, not fully awake.

“Finally. Sorry I’m late,” his voice was low and rough and comforting to hear, right beside your ear, undistorted by connection issues and distance, “Fucking terrible night. But I’m glad to see you again.”

“Not quite the welcome I’d planned,” you said through a yawn.

He laughed softly and kissed the tip of your nose, “Me neither.”

“I got all dressed up and everything,”

Roger raised the blankets into the air, peaking under, trying to see what you meant, letting out a low whistle and a “now I really wish I’d been here sooner,” though you weren’t convinced he could actually see the set through the grey black of the early hour.

You laughed sleepily and raised a hand to stroke his cheek as he fell back to the pillow.

“I was thinking about you the whole way home,” he broke off to yawn, “Had to have a quick wank halfway across the Atlantic,” he yawned again and let his eyes shut for a moment, blinking them back open to look at you with a hint of his cheeky grin.

“Remember when you said you’d fuck me as soon as you saw me,”

“Not sure I have the energy for that. Don’t think you do either.”

You hummed in agreement, the sandman tugging at the corners of your brain, but there was another idea there too. Something more insistent. You tightened your grip on Roger, adjusted yourself to be more comfortable, pulled his head closer to the crook of your neck, able to feel his warm breath on your bare skin. “Kinda want you inside me anyway, Rog.”

“Really?”

The more you thought about it the more you wanted it. You’d missed his presence in the house, the smell of his shampoo and his cigarettes and his aftershave all mixed together, the way his laugh could fill a room, how it felt to sit in the backyard on a warm day and listen to him plucking at one of his guitars, the way he smiled when he said he loved you. And now that he was back all you wanted was to keep him close, listen to his every breath, feel his hair tickling your neck, the scratch of his stubble before he shaved, his warmth seeping into your skin. Just lying beside him wasn’t enough. You wanted to drown in him, completely and utterly surround yourself in him. But that was too hard to explain so early in the day, when you’d had only a couple hours sleep and he seemed to be running on even less. So you replied with a short, “Mmhmm,” lilting upward, and dropped your lips to the top of his head.

“You sure?” his question was an exhale against your throat, fingertips dancing closer to the waistband of your knickers.

“Positive. Just for a bit, please,”

He stifled another yawn as he pushed your underwear down, letting you kick them off one foot as he got rid of his own. There was a pause as he ran his hand along his length in long lazy strokes, a needy whine caught on the tip of your tongue as you waited. But it died there, replaced by a gasp as he pulled your leg over him and slowly sunk into you. Your fingers tightened where they lay and you felt his groan as vibrations against your throat as he filled you inch by inch.

“You okay?”

“Perfect,” you whispered back, “Welcome home.”

Roger hummed and breathed deep, taking a moment to wiggle into a slightly more comfortable position, hitching your leg up a little higher, tilting your head down so he could find your lips again. You saw his eyes flutter shut as he relaxed into the pillows, content to just stay like that until he could summon the energy to do more. You let your own eyes shut too, relishing the way it felt to be stretched around him, listening to his breaths slowing down and evening out.

It was Roger’s groan that made you stir. An almost desperate sound, though he tried to keep it quiet. Slowly you blinked your eyes open, trying to tell whether Roger was awake yet too, or whether the noise was made in his sleep. You could see him clearer now, the bags under his eyes, the ruffled unkempt look of his hair. Your leg was still slung over him, slipped a little from where he’d placed it, and without thinking you made to move it back. Roger groaned again as a small gasp left you, the full memory of what had happened the previous night returning to you. It was weird, waking up so full, but not unpleasant.

“Y/N,” he sighed, “you up?”

“Mmhmm,”

“Love, do that again and we’re going to have a mess to clean up,” he warned, softly.

“How long you been awake?”

“Not long. But you’ve been clenching around me a bit in your sleep and I’m so close.” The last two words were almost pained and you briefly considered moving, letting Roger go so he could calm down sufficiently. But you were comfortable and happy wrapped around him and the memory of your phone calls nagged at the back of your mind, “You can let go,”

“What?”

“I’m… what’d you call me…your personal cock sleeve? So let go,”

Roger stared at you, eyes wide though still tired looking, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. But, when you didn’t take it back he leaned in to kiss you, rocking his hips against you slowly, letting out a low noise as you felt him empty inside you. You kissed him in return, stroked his cheek as he calmed down. Just for a moment you let your eyes slip shut again, basking in the feeling of it all. When you looked back at Roger he was still staring.

“I love you,”

“Good, I don’t plan on letting you leave this bed much today,”

“Sounds good to me,” he laughed softly, following it with a hiss when you intentionally clenched on his sensitive dick again, “wait, wait love, give me like another minute.”

You apologised and settled for another kiss instead, leaving a few extra along his jaw until he was able to make good on his earlier promises.

#my writing #my fics #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #tmi but #lowkey the idea came to me because i fell asleep c***warming a d***o lmao #😳😳😳😳😳

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