#(he just said after two weeks of allowing same sex couple blessings

[catholicsapphic]

I wish Pope Francis a very happy sometimes you should stick by oppressed people yk

[ezra-iolite]

Jokani Lore: Biology of a Dragonkin

Hopefully I'll be able to make some art to accompany this post in the future, but for now... I felt it was time I did some worldbuilding and expand on how a Dragonkin grows up and becomes what ya'll know them as.

Courtship and Embracing the Beast

The birds and the bees for a Dragonkin are luckily as simple and familiar as a human's, due to the species being entirely half-human. Genetics wise, a human and a Dragonkin couple are just as likely to have a Dragonkin child as two of the same species are... Which is why the royal family have never been overly fussy in who bears the next heir to the throne, beyond merely being someone worthy enough to become consort in mind and body, and is able to bear the barrage of magical influence to ensure said heir is born strong and bearing the Sun Blessed gene.

However, while a human experiences their fertility cycle via menstruation in only the women of the species or those who bear uteruses, a Dragonkin of any sex or gender experiences the same type of fertility cycle, a week long event known as a Red Heat. Once a month, for a full seven days, sometimes eight or nine counting on the individual Dragonkin, their inner beast will slowly come out and drive the Dragonkin feral in its demands for hunting prey and finding a mate. Their human instincts will weaken by the second day, and the third will be their hardest to resist the call of the beast within. They do not bleed like menstruating humans do, but it is noted that male Dragonkin are more territorial and far more easily overcome by "the beast" mindset, while females are much more calmer in nature but often crave more raw meat than the males do.

After all.... Dragonkin are the apex predators to humans.

(Asya is the best example of this... As before she transitioned, she was much more territorial and started fights in a feral manner during the last week of every month, like a lone wolf defending his territory and snapping at all he perceived as a threat. But the moment Asya started to take her hormone replacement potions, she became much more calmer and the fights stopped entirely by her second month of taking the potions... at the cost of her craving human meat every month.)

Therefore, once a month, the Dragonkin population all across Joka Ardhi will begin preparations for a secluded event known only as a Red Camp week. Here, the Dragonkin can escape their human-made expectations of socially adequate behavior and stay within large campsites, composed entirely of massive red tents far beyond the boarders of every city, village and town, with each massive tent containing a large plush bed appearing more like nests than the standard and human-made framed beds, and deep pools of cold water are dug into the sand and lined with terracotta clay to keep the water in. These Red Camps are made strictly for the Dragonkin species as a whole, while the humans happily let their half-fauna brethren leave to tend to their natural instincts, as they always have since the days when the two races first became one civilization.

At this camp, the Dragonkin are allowed to let loose and embrace their beast side without needing to conform to societal expectations for the safety of their more fragile human kin. Here, they can hunt like wild predators without the need for steeds or weapons, or even duel in playful territory battles and no longer worry about their strength. Meanwhile, the women of the species, when they do not have the energy to hunt or battle, can relax and embrace their inner beast's needs with their fellow feral Dragonkin, cooling off their overheating bodies in the pools and drying off by sunbathing in the hot afternoons.

All this is vital to the traditions and culture of the Dragonkin, to allow them to embrace rather than shun or hide their animal half, and more often than not, it is here at these camps that a great many Dragonkin who started their first heats are trained to hone their claws and learn about their culture at the feasts every night of the week. Once the week is over, the camps are packed up, the pools filled up, and the satisfied Dragonkin return to society, bringing plenty of fresh meat to sell or preserve as a bonus.

But, when a Red Week doesn't result in a newfound couple or a baby on the way, a Dragonkin pair will court the traditional human way, mostly by wearing vibrant clothes in each other's family's colour and gifting their partner meaningful trinkets and extravagant meals full of savory meats. Once they've settled and are happy together as a couple, it is an old Jokani tradition for one of the lovers, mostly the male but gender does not matter anymore for this tradition, to propose to their partner by gifting their parents a cow as a form of dowry, due to how vital cattle are as food and income in the wasteland. But because not everyone can house cattle in their home, most urban dwelling Jokani today will often gift cow themed items, such as a golden or carved statuette, a woven tapestry or carpet, a painting, anything they can craft to be considered valuable or an expensive item with a cow on it will be how one can propose to their lover, before they eventually give a ring or earring of gold to mark them as their betrothed.

Reproduction

Whether a female Dragonkin becomes pregnant during her monthly visit at her local Red Camp, or with her partner outside out her usual fertile window, she will usually start to show signs of her pregnancy roughly 18 days after conception. This is usually seen through the new mother experiencing morning sickness symptoms, such as nausea, vomiting, bloating, headaches and hip stiffness, but after the first month of pregnancy, she will then go through ten weeks of "magic sickness", the time period when the fetus takes both the nutrients and the magic from within its mother's body.

During this time period of early development, the new mother will experience wild bouts of magical surges, often in the form of fire hiccups, heartburn that shows up as glowing veins around her chest and neck, random surges and drops in her magic that hinders her ability to use her fire, which all eventually end at the tenth week or so with a heavy wave of fatigue and exhaustion, as the fetus then develops its own magical source within its heart and the mother rests to recover her magic levels. From then on, the fetus will only require normal food and nutrient sustenance for the rest of the 10 month gestation. When the baby is ready to be born, the Dragonkin mother will give birth to live young rather than in an egg.

However, because of the standard Jokani female body structure being lithe and skinny, to help them survive the constant heat and vast distance they travel in said heat, with the only natural aid being the bigger size/height inherited from Dragonkin blood, many mothers amongst humans and Dragonkin prefer to give birth in water rather than on a bed or with the help of a witch doctor, or more traditionally a Lunar Priestess of Ma' Mwezi. This is mainly due to the fact that the Jokani don't have hospitals, but rather they are visited by the hundreds of witch doctors housed in a Medi' Hut found in every city, village or town, who are all trained in both medical and magical practice to heal any and all injuries and ailments.

But it is massively preferred amongst all Jokani women, human and Dragonkin alike, to visit the Temple of Ma' Mwezi in the east shoreline region to give birth in the sacred lunar pools of the temple, or if the baby comes early, to hire a Lunar Priestess to bring water with them from the pools blessed by the moon goddess Ma' Mwezi herself. This is why at least seven Priestesses are usually found working in a small local temple in every city and large village, to ensure the birth can be blessed and performed in a pool at home, if the mother cannot make it to the main Ma' Mwezi temple.

Growing of the Dragon Traits

When a Dragonkin is born, no matter their parentage, the newborn will be almost perfectly human in appearance and biology. However, the key differences that mark them as a Dragonkin will be the vibrant coloration on their hands and feet, a tiny tail stump of the same colour, and stubby horns on their head. Once they finally open their eyes, they will appear blue like every human baby usually does, but theirs will immediately reveal their dragon slit irises. These differences are known as Dragon Traits, and the colour of a baby Dragonkin's traits are always based upon the colours of their parents. If one is human, the colour of their magic will be their dominant gene for the scale colour of their child, for even if they don't use said magic, a Jokani always has magic in their veins. But to the Dragonkin, some scale colours are more dominant than others, like brown eyes or hair in a white human.

There's been no research yet into what colours are considered the dominant carrier genes, simply because there are too many in the colour spectrum seen amongst the Opal species. However, the firstborn child of a Dragonkin will usually bear the father's colour with a lighter or darker hue based on the mother's. For example, a bright green Dragonkin father with an orange, human-fire mage mother will create a forest green Dragonkin firstborn, an orange-rust coloured second-born, and then a green hued third child, and then repeating in that pattern of green-orange-green with every child they bear.

As a baby Dragonkin grows, their body will begin to change, but even more so when they reach puberty. Starting off, their first change occurs when they learn to stand on their own. Their legs will begin to turn from chunky baby legs befitting of a human infant into digitigrade legs. Their knees will become more pronounced the more they use their legs to walk with, and as they lose their baby fat their animalistic shape will begin to appear as they grow bigger and taller. As they start to grow more confident in their stride, they'll begin to develop the habit of walking on their toes that will soon become their claws (or paws in a Ruby Dragonkin's case), and as they reach their toddler years and begin to play and run, they'll start to learn how to walk on all fours like a beast as they chase their toys, their own tails or their friends and climb like kittens on furniture and walls. The switch between walking on all fours and on two legs will slowly occur as they start to mimic their parents, while their tails and horns start to show as they learn how to balance on their now fully formed legs using their tails.

... It should be noted here that a Dragonkin's Dragon Traits have no scales at this age. They are merely coloured flesh and very soft. They will only gain their scales when they're eleven years old, in the form of acne that fade to become scales. These waves of acne will continue to develop rapidly for a year or two, causing annoying bouts of itchiness for the child, until they finally gain their fully scaled tails, hands and feet (but not the soles or palms), as well as lines of them along their cheekbones and shoulders. Overarmouring is the common condition where the scale-acne continues outside the main areas where scales are supposed to grow, including the palms, neck, chest, anywhere on wide areas of skin that sweats the most. It is a more painful type of itchiness that usually occurs when a teenager produces too much of the body oil that forms the acne that develops into scales. The only way to cure it is with a cold herbal bath that dries the skin entirely and to pluck the rogue scales out. It is usually aged out or cured after a month of weekly herbal baths, but in some Dragonkin with more humans in their family, it is almost a lifelong condition.

By age ten, their tails are now long and bear fluffy tips, while their horns are two rings in length and are now fully peeking out of their hair. Their shape, however, are still blunt, for in two more years they will split or harden into points and grow longer to become their mature shape that's a combination of their parents or lone Dragonkin parent. As they grow into their early teens, their fire magic will begin to show alongside their first signs of human puberty. And by sixteen, their Dragon Traits will be fully developed while their body finishes developing and growing in size, at least until they reach twenty-one or twenty-five years of age.

Their fourteenth year is when they begin training their magic and skills as they prepare for their rite of passage into adulthood, for it is here that their magic and physical prowess will waver in strength as they finds their limit within the child's body. Plenty of accidents with fire and broken items occur here, which is why the architecture of the bigger cities and towns of Joka Ardhi are made up entirely of sandstone, and why most Dragonkin designed clothing are woven with fireproof sunstone or aquamarine dust in the very fibers of the fabric... for only Red Flames can truly burn them.

Lifespan of a Dragonkin

A Dragonkin will only be considered an adult once they reach twenty-five years of age, as everything inside and out has finally stopped developing. When they celebrate this birthday, the now fully mature Dragonkin will be celebrating not just the start of their adult life... but the death of their mortal side. For it is at this stage that they will begin to age more slowly, as their body will only start to show signs of aging at all after they turn two hundred years old, with their lifespan reaching well past five hundred years. They are, however, still just as susceptible to the same diseases and illnesses as any other human.

But, there is a specific way a Dragonkin can die that is unique only to them, due to the massive danger it brings. Because their source of magic is in their heart, in the form of a fluid sack of napalm-like liquid fire and Sun Dust surrounding the organ, stabbing a Dragonkin directly in the heart will cause more than just their slow and painful death...

It will explode in a nuke-level combustion the moment the knife is pulled out and the flames that trickle out of opened fluid sack is exposed to oxygen, it will spark an explosion so massive that one Dragonkin's exposed heart-fire can destroy an entire city and leave behind a soot and ash covered ruin in a crater and no survivors. THIS is why it is taught to every warrior, man, woman and child alike to never stab a Dragonkin in the heart... And instead aim for the other side of the chest, should they need to do combat.

Inherited Fire Magic

All Dragonkin can wield fire, for it is in their very nature as the children of dragons to do so. However, the species are split in two due to the Ruby Dragonkin being the only ones who can wield natural or "Wild Fire", while Opal Dragonkin can wield fire of every colour of the rainbow but it will never burn like the Wild Fire can. This fact is more easily summed up as "The Rubies burn wildly, the Opals create variety". As such, there are four types of Wild Fire magic, which a very select few human Fire Mages can wield but are only able to handle the weaker two variants.

The four types are, in the order of strongest to weakest, Red, Yellow, Orange and White.

Yellow and White flames are the only kinds of Wild Fire that can be wielded by an Opal Dragonkin born with that type fire in them and human mages. The other two are STRCITLY wielded by the Ruby species.

Red flames are the strongest, in the sense that they're the most dangerous form of magic due to how hot they can become. Amongst all the fire types, Red fire burns the hottest of them all, and everything from metal to stone cannot withstand its heat. Metal will instantly turn white and smelt under the blaze of a red flame, while stone will immediately start to crack if a constant stream of it is shot in one spot for more than a minute. Those who have red flames as their main type will always have a hot aura around them, as though their bodies are a source of heat rivaling the sun itself.

Yellow flames are the most common type of fire magic and magic in general for combat use. They are solid enough to hold heavy objects and burn them, but not as instantly as the red. They mostly appear as tendrils of fire or telekinesis given physical form, and when used as a stream of pure fire... It can punch through rock with enough force given from the breath, and with enough training to ensure its stability and strength to do this, they can most likely break any solid wall of any type with one punch. When compared to red flames, only yellow flames can break through rock with one hit, while red flames require a constant flow and a long breath or stamina level to break through it. In this case, it is easier to say that Yellow Flames are more solid and physically stronger than Red Flames, as Red Flames sacrifice their physical strength to become hotter than all other flames, and instead require constantly added pressure to gain physical strength anywhere near the peaked strength of Yellow Flames.

Orange flames are the easiest to mimic in magic, and as such are every Ruby Dragonkin's first type of fire they learn to control. It is the most natural and commonly found fire in nature, hence why it is so easy to control. When a Ruby Dragonkin is angry or defensive, they will usually always rely on the orange flames to protect them before switching to red or yellow. If a Dragonkin's main type of fire is Orange, then Yellow or Red fire will become much easier for them to control as they grow up and hone their skill.

White flames NEVER burn. They are the one source of fire magic that never destroys, and instead ONLY heal. When used by a Red or Yellow fire wielder, the White Flame is much harder for them to control due to how gentle and fragile it is, and generally how much weaker it is in force when compared to the other flames. But for an Orange Flame wielder, it is almost instinctually easy to wield the White Healing Flame. As such, it is very common to use amongst the Opal Dragonkin, especially amongst Sun Blessed human fire mages.

A Sun Blessed Ruby Dragonkin heir can wield all four, but one flame type will always be their dominant colour, just like the Opal species, while the rest are either their secondary or their weakest colour based on the strongest main one. For example, if a Ruby's main type of flame is the Red or Yellow one due to them relying on its physical strength for combat, then they will have very weak control over the White Healing Flame. The same goes if they prefer to heal than to fight, then the White will be their main type, but the Yellow or Red flame will then be even harder for them to control. But, if a Ruby trains to hone all four, even with them picking a main flame type, they can then use all four evenly... But one will always be their defining type, and it can sometimes take them an entire century to master all four flames.

[joshjacksons]

Joshua Jackson interview with "Mr Porter" (2021)

Minutes before Mr Joshua Jackson joins me in a booth for a Friday afternoon drink at a vibey hotel bar in Santa Monica, he’s confronted by his past. Or rather, a woman in her early twenties who is binge-watching Dawson’s Creek, the teen show about a close-knit group of high-school friends coming of age in a sleepy American town, which made Jackson incredibly famous between 1998 and 2003. The series, which also made household names of Ms Michelle Williams and Ms Katie Holmes, went off air 18 years ago, but is now streaming on Netflix, to the bemusement of Jackson, who played lovable rogue Pacey Witter. “This girl was like, ‘Are you...?’ And I’m like, ‘Yes, I am. He got old. I’m sorry to break it to you,’” he says, before ordering an iced tea and a charcuterie board to tide him over until dinner time. “It always surprises me when young people say they’ve just got into Dawson’s Creek. I’m like, ‘Is it a costume drama to you? Do you feel like you’re watching a historical documentary?’”

The idea of a Friends-style reunion episode or a Sex And The City revival feels equally far-fetched to Canadian-born Jackson, now 43 and wearing it well in a pale green linen shirt and tailored linen trousers by Oliver Spencer that complement his fading brown hair and Cali-tanned skin.

“I don’t know why you’d want to [bring it back],” he says. “Nobody needs to know what those characters are doing in middle age. We left them in a nice place. Nobody needs to see that Pacey’s back hurts. I don’t think we need that update.”

And Jackson doesn’t need Dawson’s Creek. From Mr JJ Abrams’ sci-fi series Fringe (2008-2013) to the Golden Globe award-winning The Affair (2014-2019), from Ms Ava DuVernay’s ground-breaking true-crime drama When They See Us (2019) to the recent Ms Reese Witherspoon and Ms Kerry Washington-produced Little Fires Everywhere (2020), he has commanded the small screen – with a collection of dynamic and diverse work – ever since.

His latest role as Mr Christopher Duntsch, the Texas surgeon convicted of gross malpractice when 33 of his patients were left seriously injured after he operated on them and two of them died, in chilling Peacock crime drama Dr Death, is only stepping his career up another gear.

“I’ve never played anyone irredeemable before,” says Jackson, who is joined in the eight-part series (based on the 2018 Wondery podcast of the same name) by Messrs Christian Slater and Alec Baldwin. “He is charming, gregarious and has a high-level intellect, but he’s also a misogynist, probably a sociopath, certainly a narcissist and a complete incompetent who is incapable of seeing himself.”

If Duntsch is terrifying, then Jackson’s portrayal is even more so. The artist formerly known as Pacey is virtually unrecognisable (thanks to prosthetics) in the opening scene, but the real challenge for Jackson was allowing himself to view someone who is so “spectacularly evil” as a human being in order to walk in his shoes. “It’s a more damning portrayal of the man to make him into a human being, rather than just make him the bad guy,” he says. “He really believes he’s the hero, he’s the genius and that he’s the victim, so once I got past my own judgment, all the other things fell into place.”

Jackson might have his pick of stellar roles – and challenges – now, but it has not happened by accident. Take it from someone who has been in the business since landing his first job aged 14 in Disney’s live-action movie series The Mighty Ducks, opposite Brat Pack alumnus Mr Emilio Estevez.

“You try to make it look like it happens accidentally,” he says, “but there is no way to do this and not be ambitious. I’d say I’m extremely ambitious because I’ve been doing this cutthroat job for nearly 30 years. I’m in the pay-off phase of my career now. One of the benefits of surviving for as long as I have is you get to learn from your own mistakes.”

Such as? “I wouldn’t say, ‘I wish I hadn’t done that,’ because it all becomes bricks in a path, but [after Dawson’s Creek] I was not choosy enough about the things I was doing. You get stuck. You start trying to perform the performance you think people are hoping to see you do. I was so used to working all the time that I just worked all the time. There was definitely a conscious moment in my mid-twenties when I realised I wasn’t really enjoying the work that I was doing. My manager at the time just said, ‘Take a breath. You’re burnt out.’”

The turning point came in 2005, when Jackson was offered a role in the two-hander Mr David Mamet play A Life In The Theatre, opposite Sir Patrick Stewart. “God bless him, Patrick could have made my life miserable because I had no idea what I was doing, ” he says. “I hadn’t been on stage since I was a kid and now I was in the West End in over my head. But it reminded me that I actually enjoyed being an actor, that it’s not about the red carpet or travelling around the world. What I really enjoy is working on good material with good people.”

It’s no surprise Jackson’s time on Dawson’s Creek led to a career crisis. From the ages of 19 to 24, he lived with his fellow cast mates in Wilmington, North Carolina, filming day in, day out, in an arrangement he likens to college. “You get to the end and they’re like, ‘Here’s your degree. Go live now. You’re an adult. Go out into the world,’” he says.

But most graduates don’t have to deal with global fame. “It’s transitory. You’re only ever cool for a moment and then you become much less cool. I was always pretty dubious about flatterers,” he says, recalling a time he was stung in London in the mid-2000s. “I went on a date in Hyde Park with a woman whose name I will not use – she was socialite-famous – and she was acting completely bizarre, looking over her shoulder the whole time. I came to find out that she had hired a photographer to follow us through the park and gave a whole story to the tabloids about how I was going to meet her family.”

It was his growing fortune, rather than fame, that caused Jackson the most anxiety. “Suddenly, at 19 years old, I was making more in a week than most of my friends’ parents would make in a year,” he says. “It was lovely to have the money, but it was that feeling of nobody is worth that kind of money. You feel like a fraud and it took me a long time to forgive myself for not being the thing that I was perceived as.”

Born in Vancouver, but raised in Topanga, California, until he was eight (before moving back to Vancouver following his parents’ divorce), Jackson bought his childhood home in 2001 and lives in it today with his wife, British Queen & Slim actor Ms Jodie Turner-Smith, and their 15-month-old daughter.

“My father unfortunately was not a good father or a husband and exited the scene, but that house in Topanga was where everything felt simple, so it was a very healing thing for me to do,” he says. Fast-forward to 2021 and his baby daughter now sleeps in her father’s childhood bedroom. “There was a mural of a dragon on the wall in that room that I couldn’t believe was still there, years later. The owner [who sold him the house] said, ‘I knew it meant a lot to somebody and that they were going to come back for it some day.’”

Becoming a first-time parent during a pandemic sounds stressful, but it afforded Jackson months at home with his wife and child that his normal work schedule wouldn’t have allowed.

“I now recognise how perverse the way that we have set up our society is,” he says. “There is not a father I know who works a regular job who didn’t go back to the office a week later. It’s robbing that man of the opportunity to bond with his child and spend time with his partner.”

Despite his obvious career ambitions, fatherhood has changed Jackson’s priorities in “every possible way”, he says. “It’s 100 per cent changed how I approach my work and my life. That has been made so clear to me in this past year. For me to feel good about what I’m doing day to day, my family has to be the central focus.

“There are plenty of things left for me to do, but now the thing that gets me excited is experiencing the world through my daughter’s eyes. I can’t wait to take her scuba diving. I can’t wait to take her skiing. I can’t wait to read a great book with her. I’m not worried at all she’ll be a wallflower. She’s been a character from the word go.”

Jackson met Turner-Smith, 34, two days after his 40th birthday. He had been single since his 10-year relationship with German actress Ms Diane Kruger ended in 2016. “I was not looking to fall in love again or meet the mother of my child, but life has other plans for you,” he says.

The couple met at a party. Turner-Smith was wearing the same The Future Is Female Ejaculation T-shirt Ms Tessa Thompson’s character, Detroit, wears in the 2018 film Sorry To Bother You. “That’s what I used to break the ice. I shouted, ‘Detroit!’ across the room. Not the smoothest thing I’ve ever done, but it worked. We were pretty much inseparable from the word go. It was a whirlwind romance and I can tell my daughter I literally saw her mother across a room and thought, ‘I have to be next to this woman.’”

A self-confessed “useless” shopper, Jackson gives his wife full credit for his current wardrobe. He is jewellery-free, apart from a wedding band and a gold signet “JJ” ring on his little finger (a present from his wife), and discovered tailored sweatsuits (by Stampd and Reigning Champ) in the pandemic.

“Jodie has influence in the way that a wonderful wife encourages you, through love, to dress well. She was like, ‘We’re going to throw away all the sweatpants from your past and I’m going to get you some that actually make you look like an adult male and you will still feel comfortable around the house,’ and I’m like, ‘What an amazing idea!’ Who knew you could get sweatsuits that actually look good on your body?”

Jackson’s style has evolved, he says, “from slovenly teen to it’s-nice-when-your-clothes-actually-fit-you”. The penny dropped after he auditioned for his former co-star Estevez, who was directing the 2006 Mr Robert Kennedy biopic Bobby. He said to me, ‘You only got this job because I know you. You came in here to play a very well-put together 1960s political operative and you’re wearing jeans and a hoodie.’

“I had to grow up a little bit. We are very much raised in Canada to never, ever show off, so it took me a while to recognise it’s OK to look good when you go out.”

Still, when you’ve grown up in front of the camera, “every pimple literally documented”, and lived (very successfully) to tell the tale, you can probably be forgiven for the odd fashion faux pas.

“I wore a silk Ascot to an event once in Paris and I still have nightmares about it,” he says. “I looked like Fred from Scooby Doo, but you live and learn.”

[multimetaverse]

HSMTMTS 2x10 Review

The Transformation was a slow but sweet ep. Let’s dig in!

Seblos was lovely tonight. In A Heartbeat was a great song and really suited Frankie’s voice. Very refreshing to see two gay guys discuss their relationship issues openly with their friends. It was a pleasant surprise to see Seb admit that he worries that Carlos is only with him because he’s the only other out gay guy at East High; it’s a deeper moment than this show is usually capable of depicting. And of course, we got another historic first with the first time a boy has sung a love song to another boy on Disney (Big Shot claimed the first same-sex love song when it had Mouse sing to Harper). 

It was also important that they had Ricky tell Carlos that he and Seb had something worth fighting for and that he helped Carlos write the song and provided guitar and back-up vocals. Having Ricky, the male lead of the series, get so involved both helps raise the importance of the story line within the episode itself and send a clear message to the audience that the story line is important and worthy of attention. For all it’s flaws the openness with which HSMTMTS has depicted the Seblos story line has been a real victory for lgbtq rep on Disney. 

There was some really lame Disney censorship tonight. The word gay clearly wasn’t allowed to be said tonight which is ridiculous since the word has already been used in the show. Not to mention the absurdity of allowing two boys to discuss their romantic relationship and then have one of them sing a love song to the other while drawing the line at someone using the word gay. It’s just completely bizarre reasoning on Disney’s part, homophobic audience members would have stopped watching HSMTMTS a hell of a long time ago; and it’s not like any homophobes would sit through a boy singing a love song to another boy but then quit watching if they hear the word gay said aloud. We also didn’t get a kiss at the end which almost certainly would have happened if this had been a straight couple love song. Though it wouldn’t surprise me if a same-sex kiss is a once a season only kind of thing given Disney restrictions. 

Portwell also had a great ep. The risotto call back was an excellent way for EJ to ask Gina out for real this time. Loved seeing EJ mirroring Gina’s, ‘’not that I know of’’, line from last ep as it shows how similar their personalities are. Nice to see the gang gossiping about them, noticing their moments, and encouraging them to get together just like real friends would do in that situation. I also appreciate that the gang’s reactions  quickly shut down the commonly heard objections to romantic Portwell: that EJ and Gina are somehow blood relatives by proxy because Ashlyn considers Gina a sister, that Gina lives with Ashlyn, that EJ is graduating. All of them swiftly knocked down and Ashlyn who knows Gina and EJ best gives them her blessing. The real reason Gina and EJ were hesitant to put themselves out there again is because they are still traumatized from being rebounds for the Rini love story. But now both have gathered the courage to take their second chance at a relationship.

Ricky was great tonight. He handled that weird Lily call pretty well. And EJ saying that letting Nini go was the best thing he did for really hit Ricky so he correctly decided not to song Let You Go to Nini. He really came through with Carlos, loved their little friendship and the bro moments which again are so important to see because Ricky is the male lead of the series. That Carlos/Ricky hug was touching, you could tell Ricky really needed that hug. We won’t get bi Ricky obviously but little moments like him calling EJ pretty boy are fun. 

Lmao at Kourtney’s love language being gifts, music, flattery, and begging. Also lol at Howie being so willing to sell out North High. We know from the 2x12 photos that Kowie will be fine in the long run.

Ricky and Ashlyn don’t seem to have any chemistry. At least we now know how Ricky sprained his wrist but what happens to Ashlyn?

Nini is clearly not entirely over Ricky. It would be funny if Gina speaking her truth ends up being clearing the air with Nini

Natalie is back! She really dipped after the New Year’s party

Jenzzara therapy session was too funny. They’re so different but really do have a lot in common deep down.

Clearly money was starting to get tight and this ep was designed as a money-saver.

Looking Ahead:

EJ’s Gaston make up looks terrible! He looks more like Gaston without it

So is next week gonna basically count as the Menkies? Wonder who the judge is. Realistically East High shouldn’t win but we’ll see if they pull a win out because they’re the protagonists. 

There’s a good chance that the song Second Chances in the finale is sung by the core four. Second Chances fits perfectly with Portwell but less so for Rini. Especially since it’s very hard to see Rini getting back together so soon, maybe they just have a nice conversation that clears the air between them. 

Gina and Ricky certainly need to talk sometime in the remaining two eps but it’s very difficult to see any realistic way for them to get together this season especially with a Portwell kiss having been teased. Also it’s clear that Lily is the party crasher in the finale so they’re planning something between her and Ricky (maybe we see Lily try to earn a second chance at East High?)

Wonder if Something There will end up being used for Jenzzara.

Until next week Wildcats

[babymetaldoll]

Danger Days - Chapter twelve: "Heaven knows I'm miserable now"

Word count: 7,5K

Summary: Joey has to go touring again, and Matthew is feeling miserable. Lynz is starting to suspect something is wrong with her husband.

Warnings: Smut, penetrative sex. Cursing.

A/N: Hi! quick question: would you do what Lynz did??

Masterlist

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five | Chapter six | Chapter seven | Chapter eight | Chapter nine | Chapter ten | Chapter eleven | Chapter twelve | Chapter thirteen | Chapter fourteen | Chapter fifteen | Chapter sixteen | Chapter seventeen | Chapter eighteen | Chapter nineteen | Chapter twenty | Chapter twenty one | Chapter twenty-two | Chapter twenty-three | Chapter twenty-four |

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::: Los Angeles, January 28th, 2011 :::

Matthew looked around and smiled. He was pleased to see the new fireplace he had built for their house. Meanwhile, Joey worked on the kitchen’s, painting a wall. They had spent their whole month together working on their future home. They had made the best out of their time together. They even invited her parents for an entire week and introduced them to Matthew’s family. It was all so official and yet, so fun and warm.

Joey never thought she would like those things. And her mother knew it. That’s why she kept telling her how happy she looked with Matthew.

- "I’ve never seen you shine like this"- Mercedes kissed her temple before getting into a plane back to Seattle. Joey could never forget the smile on her face as her mom hugged Matthew and gave him her blessing. It was like he was part of the family already.

But a new leg of the tour was about to start, and Joey had to go. Matthew hated it. He didn’t want her away with Gerard. And Joey hated it too, but she was so happy she had a great job after all that time, and the fact she was good at it made her feel so secure about her skills, in a way she had never felt before. It was like she was finally becoming the Joey she always wanted to be.

Gerard hadn’t appeared that whole month. He had stayed as far from Joey as possible. That meant he had spent most of his time in New York with his wife. Mikey had been around, though. He was always hanging with Joey when Matthew was at work. The drummer had asked him to look for a date, but other than picking random chicks in bars a few times, Mikey wasn’t ready for everything dating or seeing somebody meant. Even rebound sex had been hard for him.

- "Yami, when do you have to go to the airport?"

- "Around midnight"- the girl answered and turned to her boyfriend, face spotted with paint from her work in the kitchen. He walked over and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder.

- "Why don’t you better stay here with me?"- he pouted, and the girl sighed

- "Akumu, we’ve been through this."

- "I know, but I just…"- he sighed, knowing it was a fight he never stood a chance to win- "Fuck, Yami! I just miss you so much when you are not around."

Gubler whispered, and she kissed his neck softly, taking a deep breath to enjoy his smell. They had been working most of the morning in their house, but Joey didn’t mind the sweat on her boyfriend’s body.

- "You know I miss you too when I’m away, but you are gonna be working. You’ve got a tv show and a movie to make, so you really wouldn’t be home with me much if I were here, would you?"- Joey whispered as Matthew moved and rested his forehead on hers.

- "I know…"

- "So? What if, instead of being sad, we make the best of the few hours we have left?"- the girl bit Matthew’s lower lip and raised an eyebrow, smiling seductively.

- "You mean you wanna do what the moms and the dads do when they are alone?"- he whispered with a funny voice, and Joey closed her eyes laughing.

- "Shit! You had to put it in the less sexy way possible, didn’t you?"

- "So you want it sexy?"- his voice lowered, and her heart raced in her chest as he kissed her neck softly.

- "Yes, Akumu, I want it sexy."

- "And dirty?"- he whispered and bit his lips as he looked at her for a second.

- "Yes, and also loving."

- "You are very demanding, did you know that?"- Gubler smiled, rubbing his lips against hers slowly before kissing her.

- "Yes, I know I am, but you love me being demanding"- a smirk appeared on Joey’s face as she moved her lips from his and stared into his light brown eyes

- "I am doomed, you know I love you too much"- the girl kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck- "Too bad we don’t have any place to do it here in this empty house, just for the two of us."

Joey chuckled and kissed Matthew again.

- "I guess we are gonna have to make the best of it…"

- "That’s the spirit"- he hugged her and lifted her, her legs wrapped around his waist as he started walking outside the kitchen, kissing her.

- "Now enlighten me, my sweet fiancée… is there any room in our house we haven’t done it yet?"- Gubler asked with a smirk and Joey thought about it quickly.

- "Oh no! Matthew! There isn’t another room to have sex in! We’ve done it in every single one of them already"- she answered in a fake concerned tone of voice.

- "Oh dammit! That means we are gonna have to start repeating spots then!"- Matthew quickly replied and leaned Joey’s body against the wall behind her back- "And as far as I remember, you came real nice right here the other day."

- "I did indeed, Matthew Gray. Thank you for remembering it so clearly."

The couple kept making out and continued talking until it was useless to keep track of any coherent conversation when all they could do was to groan and moan.

If something melted Joey’s heart was the look in Matthew’s eyes every time they had sex. The moment right before thrusting into her, he would look into her eyes and wait for her permission. No matter what. Even when she was acting submissive, she had to nod and allow him to enter. Joey had teased him more than once, saying he was a vampire in sex, ‘cos he couldn’t come inside her house uninvited. The truth was, Matthew cared for her, even when he was spanking her, or calling her a dirty whore, or having her calling him daddy. He wanted her to enjoy being with him too.

- "Matthew?"- Joey whispered as the two of them laid on an old carpet, and he moved slowly over to climb her naked body. He stared at her in adoration and caressed her face softly.

- "What is it, Yami?"

- "I just… love you so much"- the girl managed to whisper as she stared into his eyes, feeling how the tears were about to reach hers.

- "Baby, baby"- he whispered and kissed her several times on her lips, her eyes, her cheeks- "I love you too, I am here, I am yours, you have my heart."

Matthew reached out and landed a hand on the necklace Joey never took off.

- "And you are carrying my heart with you, always"- the girl nodded and kissed him again.

- "You haven’t been apart for this long, ever"- she sighed and made her best to remain calm.

- "I know"- Matthew whispered and kissed her neck a few times- "But we are gonna be ok."

- "Akumu… we won’t be together in two months"- it was like the realization had just hit Joey nine hours before leaving.

- "I know, Yami"- he whispered and moved closer to her, if possible, and wrapped her in his arms completely.

- "Matthew…"

Joey’s tears began to fall, and he started kissing them away as fast as possible. But it was too hard, ‘cos he had started crying too, and the two of them weeping naked on a carpet was too much to handle.

And so they cried. They both knew they had been acting funny and silly to cover the fact they were miserable ‘cos it was an eternal leg of the tour. It started on January 31st in Osaka and ended on March 20th in Finland. They had a week off and then another month traveling the states. It was hell.

How was Joey going to cope with the distance? How was Matthew going to deal with the fear of leaving his girlfriend with Gerard? Neither of them wanted to think of it now, but it seemed there were no more chances to avoid the thoughts either.

Matthew held her face with both hands, running his thumbs carefully on her cheeks, before leaning over and kiss her. It was soft. It was sweet. It was sad and filled with love at the same time. He didn’t want to cry anymore, not at the moment. He was going to have a long night without her to think and overthink everything.

But at that moment, Matthew just wanted to kiss Joey’s lips, her whole body. He wanted to stop the fucking time that kept driving him insane and just be with her, enjoy the last afternoon they had together, making love on their living room’s floor.

Joey sighed and shivered as she felt her fiancé holding onto her skin, like a shipwrecked holding the last piece of wood left of his boat. She couldn’t say a word. She just wrapped her arms and legs around him and looked into his eyes, nodding before she felt him sliding between her thighs. Both of them gasped, but neither of them was able to say a word. They just stared at each other and sighed. He held her close, as close as humanly possible, while waves of pleasure washed over them.

Her lips traveled from his cheeks to his jawbone, tracing kisses all the way, returning to his lips to run her tongue through them sweetly, tasting him in every inch of skin she touched. She needed to engrave that taste, that smell in her, to carry it with her all the time she was going to be apart from him.

It was the third time they had to say goodbye, and by far, this was the worst.

On the first leg of the tour, Joey was nervous about the job and being apart from Gubler for three weeks. But now, she didn’t worry about the job at all. Matthew was everything she had in her mind. She didn’t want to turn into the woman who stopped being herself to be with a man. But Gubler had managed to change so many things in her, not even planning on it. And now she was having second thoughts about her priorities.

- "I’m about…"- the girl whispered, and her boyfriend nodded.

- "Me too…"- neither of them said another word. They just kissed long enough to cover their groans and whimpers, coming at the same time.

Neither of them moved. Matthew was still trying to catch his breath, and Joey couldn’t stop holding him close. She didn’t want to let him go. Never.

- "When you come back, this is gonna be our home"- he whispered sweetly in her ear, and she nodded- "And we are going to fill it with our memories."

He sweetly ran his fingers through her hair and looked into her eyes. She wasn’t able to answer. It was too much to take at the moment, so she just kissed him over and over again.

- "And I am going to fill you up with babies too"- he murmured in her ear, and she chuckled- "And they are gonna run around this house and wake us up early at Christmas morning. And we’ll come here to this very same room and open presents with them. And I will make you breakfast in that kitchen while you play with them and their new gifts…"

Joey bit her lips as tears rolled down her eyes.

- "Yami, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to."

- "I know… but it’s my job, and I want to work… but I don’t wanna be apart from you…"- he nodded and kissed the tip of the nose.

- "Tell you what, after this tour, we can take a few months off from traveling to spend them with your new husband, who is going to take the same amount of time off to be with you, and only with you"- the girl smiled and kissed him.

- "I can’t wait to marry you, Matthew Gray Gubler. Did you know that?"

Frank was crying. This was the saddest goodbye. It was getting harder for him to be far from home now that he had two baby girls. He was slightly rethinking his whole life. He loved music, he loved playing, he loved performing. But he loved his family most, and being apart from them was making everything too difficult.

Was it even worthy?

- "You could come to see us in London"- Frank said as he walked to his wife after packing his bag- "We are gonna have a week off to recover from the Japan jet lag, please come."

It wasn’t much of a request as it was a pleading. And Jamia could feel it.

- "Are you sure?"

- "I don’t wanna be apart from you for two months, I’m gonna miss the babies growing up"- she wrapped her arms around Frank’s neck and kissed his lips.

- "Of course, we can come, honey"- Jamia looked at him and cut him a warm smile, trying to ease his mind- "I am going to miss you too."

- "Thank you"- he rested his forehead on hers and sighed- "This is too much time apart."

- "I know."

- "I don’t wanna go."

- "Don’t be silly, once you start the tour, you are not going to be so sad. You are gonna have fun with your friends, and you are going to facetime us all the time… we’ll be in London together, that’s like in a week or something, so don’t feel sad, don’t cry, please."- Iero nodded and kissed his wife again.

- "After this tour, I’m gonna take you on the best vacations you’ve ever seen"- he said and smiled.

- "Aren’t you going to be sick and tired of traveling all over?"- she asked, frowning as she let him go and helped him finish packing more t-shirts.

- "Maybe, but I could use some all-inclusive time with my wife"- Jamia’s eyes shone.

- "You can’t take it back now"

- "I know"- he grinned and felt her hands on his cheeks, pulling him into a big kiss.

- "So, start the tour quickly so it finishes earlier and we can pick a beach to lie on for two weeks."

Gerard was in hell as he looked at all the bags by the door. Lynz had decided to go along with him on their trip to Japan, and he couldn’t convince her otherwise. Gerard needed to go back touring and be on her own with Joey. But he wasn’t going to be able to. Instead, he was going to keep his distance from her to avoid any suspicion from his wife.

The truth was, Lynz was already suspicious. She wasn’t blind. And just like Matthew, she could see the way her husband drooled every time he landed eyes on Joey, and she hated it. Deeply.

Lynz noticed the drummer wasn’t aware of that fact, but that didn’t mean she didn’t reciprocate her husband’s feelings. Had anything happened between them on tour? She couldn’t tell. Did Mikey know about this? She could ask him, but what if she ended up making a fool out of herself? She was the cool wife… she had never been jealous before. Never.

- "Are you sure you are not overpacking?"- Gerard yelled from the lobby and heard his wife replying from upstairs.

- "That’s all I need for a two weeks trip"- he closed his eyes and sipped his coffee. Two weeks.

- “Fuck”

- "Aren’t you excited?!"- Lynz walked over with one last bag and smiled at her husband- "You and me together in Tokyo, there’s so much we can do!"- he smiled and felt her arms around him and a peck on his lips.

- "Yeah! It’s fantastic!"- she frowned and looked right into his eyes.

- "Now make it seem like you mean it"

-  "What do you mean, baby?"

- "I’ve got the feeling you are not excited about me going with you on tour"

- “Deny! Deny!” Come on, babe! What makes you say so? You are so wrong!"

- "I know you, Gerard. And I know when you lie."

- "No! I am happy you are coming. I am just scared I won’t have so much time to wander around with you, and I don’t want you to get upset with me."

- "No honey, don’t worry"- she smiled and kissed him- "I can always wait for that week off in London, there are so much we can do there too"- he kissed her and looked at the hour.

- "We should get going."

Matthew Gray Gubler was crying as he kissed Joey for the hundredth time. They stood outside the international boarding door, and he sobbed as he wiped off the tears from her cheeks and kissed her over and over again.

Mikey looked from a safe distance while Gerard and his wife had already left, searching for their gate. Only by the look in Gubler’s eyes, Gerard knew the safest thing to do was say hello, goodbye, and hide. He felt how the actor’s glance threw daggers his way the whole time.

- "I love you so much"- Matthew whispered, and she nodded.

- "I swear I love you more."

- "I honestly doubt it"- he rubbed his lips against her and made her smile.

- "I made you cookies last night. I left them in a jar in your kitchen."

- "Marry me"- he quickly replied, and Joey laughed.

- "You already asked me, I said yes… which reminds me, I might need to put the engagement ring with your heart while I play. It hurts my hands playing with rings."

- "That’s cool, as long as you have it with you."

- "Always…"- she looked at him as tears filled her eyes again- "I’m gonna miss your birthday."

- "Yami, I don’t care about my birthday… we are gonna have the rest of our lives to have birthdays together"- but his words didn’t do a thing, ‘cos Joey was now crying like a little kid, making him cry as well.

- "I’m so sorry, Matthew"- she sobbed and sighed- "I should go… my door is gonna open in like half an hour."

- "Go…"- but neither of them moved.

- "I don’t know why I just feel like I’m never gonna see you again."

- "Don’t be silly, you’ll see me in a couple of weeks to prepare our wedding"- those words made Joey smile.

- "I love that idea."

- "See Mrs. Gubler? You are gonna have to see me again, in fact, I’m planning to see each other every day until we are old and grey."

- "Sounds like a nice plan"- Joey kissed him once more and sighed- "I love you, Gubs."

- "Me more."

- "Me most."

- "I packed a few extra Gubler’s shirts in your bag, just to make sure you’ve got enough of me to carry through Europe."

- "Marry me"- she quickly answered, and he chuckled, tears still falling from his eyes.

- "Sorry, I’m already taken"- he smiled and kissed her- "Call me when you land, I don’t care about the hour, just let me know you are safe"- she nodded and wrapped her arms tight around his neck.

- "I will… though I’ll be sixteen hours in the future."

- "That should be fun. Please tell me if humankind has already discovered teleportation in the future, so I can go be with you while I’m on breaks on the set."

- "Deal"- she smiled and sighed- "I’ll FaceTime you so many times you are going to need an extra phone ‘cos yours is going to be battery low forever."

Matthew held Joey’s face with both hands and pulled her into a deep, loving kiss. They just stared when they gasped for breath and smiled.

- "I love you."

- "Me too."

The trip to Osaka was long and awkward. Joey was glad Lynz was coming, ‘cos for once, and after months traveling with the band, she didn’t care about Gerard. The last break made her realize, she wasn’t crushing on him anymore. She was in love with her boyfriend, she was gonna marry him, and the hot guy in tight pants was nothing but a nice view while playing shows.

But Joey felt Gerard’s wife hated her. She wasn’t friendly with her at all, so the drummer decided the best thing to do was to back off and hang on her own most of the trip. Mikey was with her but sleeping pretty much the whole way. The rest of the band had taken a flight from Jersey to Osaka, and they were going to meet at the hotel. Mikey was looking forward to a nice comfortable bed and a warm meal.

- "You have to be kidding me"- the bassist woke up and found Joey next to him, watching Criminal Minds.

- "What? They had it, I just…"

- "You are so lame."

- "Shut up. Wanna help them find the unsub?"

- "No, wanna help me find an air hostess to get us a drink?"

- "It’s nine in the morning!"- Joey frowned, shocked.

- "Not in Osaka, over there is already… one in the morning! Shit, we are late and sober."

- "Shut up, Mikey."

Lynz looked around the plane and found Joey and Mikey laughing a few rows behind them.

- "Everything ok?"- Gerard asked and looked over too. Of course, his brother and the girl he had a crush on were laughing and enjoying their time.

- "Yeah, I just hadn’t heard Mikey so happy in a while."

- "Yeah"- Gerard quickly put on his headphones back on and continued reading. Lynz nodded and looked at him. He was crystal clear.

::: Japan, January 30, 2011 :::

Joey felt she was dead when she reached her bed. With the bit of energy left in her body, she managed to take off her shoes and facetime Matthew. That was everything she could do before falling asleep on the bed, fully dressed and holding the phone in her hand. Until someone knocked on her door.

- "Sushi time!!!"- Mikey yelled and rushed into her room with Frank.

- "What the fuck?"- the girl was lost in time and space.

- "Hey Iceland!"- Frank hugged her tight and spun her around.

- "Jersey… hey…"- she yawned and scratched her eyes, still half asleep- "What time is it?"

- "Late for lunch or early for dinner, your pick"- Mikey was somehow completely energized, and Frank followed.

- "How many coffees have you two had today?"

- "Two green teas"- Frank said and raised his hands.

- "Five coffees!!- Mikey jumped, and Joey chuckled- "Come on! I need to eat my whole weight in sushi!"

- "He tries to do the same every time we are in Japan… it hasn’t worked yet, but once he puked his weight"- Joey laughed at Frank’s story and walked to the bathroom.

- "Ok, kids. Give me a couple of minutes to get ready, I’m kinda hungry, but I think I want some fries."

- "Bummer!"- Mikey yelled and jumped on the girl’s bed- "Hurry up before someone else wakes up ad we have to wait for more people to get ready."

Mikey loved being in Japan. Why? It was the tour life all over again, and he loved it. He wasn’t home. He was with his friends all the time, so he was never on his own, overthinking everything going through his mind. Mikey needed a break from his life, and touring was the perfect way to avoid reality. Besides, he was on the other side of the world. There was no way he could add more distance between him and his ex. That made him feel relieved. It was like she wasn’t real anymore.

Worm was snoring at the back of the van as Frank, Joey, and Mikey toured around the city. They convinced her to stay awake until night to fight the jet lag, so they kept drinking coffee and looking around the city. Joey was on fire. In her whole life, she had imagined she could go to Japan. She couldn’t believe it. Life had turned out pretty well for her after all those years. It was like she deserved to be happy after the miserable days back in the orphanage. Maybe that was karma. And it was time to enjoy the sunny days.

- "I want a kimono for Akumu!"- she yelled and woke Worm up as soon as they saw a kimono store when the van parked.

- "Iceland, there is no way we can go out on our own in Japan"- Mikey warned

- "Why?"

- "‘Cos… Worm?"- the bassist turned to their friend and bodyguard, and he explained.

- "Though people here are completely respectful, sometimes it gets too crowded."

- "Meaning?"- the drummer didn’t get it.

- "There are too many of them"- Joey nodded at Worm’s words and thought about it for a second.

- "I’ll tell you guys what, park the van, I’ll go to that store, buy Matthew a kimono, and run back to the van in less than fifteen minutes"- no one answered- "There is no way on earth people know me here."

- "Joey"- Iero tried to argue, but the girl didn’t let him.

- "Frank"- she simply replied and raised an eyebrow.

- "I’m not gonna let you go alone"- Worm said and moved over- "Come on, Let’s get Doctor Spencer Reid a kimono"- the girl chuckled as the bodyguard gave instructions to the driver to take them to the best kimono store around.

- "Thank you"- Joey answered and smiled at Worm.

- "Why does Gubler like kimonos so much?"- Frank asked, frowning.

- "His grandma brought him one from Japan when he was a kid, and he has kept it his whole life. I think it would be an excellent addition to bring him a new one for his collection."

- "He collects them now?"

- "Yes"- the drummer answered and looked at her phone.

- "Hey, Jamia is coming to London"- Frank announced.

- "Awesome!"- Joey nearly jumped with the news- "I like Jamia."

- "Really?"- Frank sounded surprised.

- "Yeah! She is adorable! And the babies are so cute!!"

- "Well, I’m glad ‘cos she is gonna be there for a whole week. And I’m guessing you are gonna have to help to change diapers."

- "Deal!"- Joey grinned and thought about it- "Maybe I should ask Matthew if he can come along to London too."

- "Jamia would love you even more if you do"- the three of them chuckled at those words - "She was so embarrassing in New Year."

- "Matthew couldn’t believe it when I told him she was crushed on him."

- "She was so obvious! He didn’t notice it?"

- "I don’t know"- Joey thought about it for a second- "Maybe he is used to people acting weird around him… doesn’t it happen to you too?"- the two musicians thought about it, and Worm chuckled.

- "You are the only girl I’ve seen acting human around them in years"- he said, and Joey laughed

- "I get it now."

The idea of Matthew visiting her in London gave Joey a refreshed energy and something to look forward to in her near future. Was he going to say yes? He had a tight schedule, but maybe he could take some time off for her, perhaps a few days. It was a long trip, yes, but… they could be together. That was always good. The girl decided to wait to call him that night and ask him if he was willing to make the trip. She kept her hopes high, though, ‘cos she knew he missed her as well.

- "I’m so sorry, Yami. I can’t make it"- Matthew answered and saw his girlfriend’s eye water up in a second.

- "But why?"

- "I had already thought about it when I saw your schedule, but that’s the week I start rolling the movie, and I can’t just leave."

- "I understand, Akumu"- she mumbled, laid in her bed, dressed in one of his shirts.

- "I’m so sorry, baby"- he whispered and yawned. It was eight in the morning in Los Angeles, and Gubler was getting ready to work.

- "It’s ok… I get it. You have to work too."

- "I swear I’m gonna look for a date to visit you as soon as I can."

- "Thanks."

- "I have to go now, I need to shower"- the girl nodded at his words and smiled as he showed her the jar of cookies she had made him- "I already ate half of them."

- "Enjoy them, Akumu. I’m going to sleep ‘cos I’m dying."

- "Ok, Yami. Talk to you later."

- "Yeah, I’ll call you when I wake up."

- "Love you."

- "Me too."

The call ended, and Joey kept staring at the screen for a few seconds. One day without him and she was already suffering like she hadn’t suffered any of the earlier times. Why?

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts and made her wonder who would knock at her door at midnight. She had said goodnight to Frank, Ray, and Mikey after dinner.

- "Hey, Gerard"- the girl said, surprised as soon as she found him standing outside her room- "What are you doing here?"

- "I just…"- the singer was nervous. He stared at Joey and didn’t say a word for a few seconds.

- "You just?"- the girl asked and kept waiting for an answer.

- "I just wanted to check on you."

- "Thanks, I was about to go to bed, though I might have had three coffees too many, you? Where’s Lynz?"- it hurt Gerard to see Joey so careless about the fact his wife was there. It was like she was even enjoying it.

- “But why? Doesn’t she want to spend time with me? Didn’t she miss me?” She was tired and decided to take a bath."

- "That’s a good choice"

- "Can I come in?"- Joey opened the door completely and watched Gerard Way walking in.

- "So, how was your break?"- the girl sat on her bed and looked at Gee, who kept walking in circles around the room.

- "It was good. Are you mad at me?"- he simply asked, straight to the point, and turned to the girl, who frowned, confused.

- "No, why?"

- "'Cos you are not talking to me."

- "I’m talking now."

- "Yeah, but… you feel distant"- Joey sighed and stared at the singer thinking her answer with a rational and cold mind, for the very first time since she met him.

- "We have never been real close, Gerard"- and that hurt him- "It’s not like we are best friends."

- "Yeah, but it feels like you don’t want to be near me."

- "I don’t have a reason to be near you,"- and that hurt him again, 'cos it meant she didn’t care.

- “There’s no way she doesn’t care. She just has to be excusing herself cos Lynz is here.”

- "Sorry, that didn’t come out right"- Joey excused herself and shook her head, trying to rearrange her thoughts.

- “Thank God.”- Way nearly sighed.

- "What I meant was we haven’t shared so much, and you have been with your wife since we reached the airport. So… no, I’m not mad at you, we just haven’t had time to talk, or whatever."

Joey was so proud of herself she could have clapped if she was alone. She was talking with Gerard, not feeling nervous or… creaming her undies.

- "I see."

- "But we can hang out tomorrow. My plan is breakfast, practice morning, lunch, practice, soundcheck, show. I guess I’ll see you on the soundcheck, we can hang out, have coffee, you can catch me up with everything you did on your break, did you have fun?"- the girl yawned and kept looking at Gerard with a warm smile. Where did the temptation go? It just vanished.

- "Yes, it was very fun"- he answered and sighed, absolutely disappointed.

- "Great! You can tell me all about it tomorrow. Right now, I need to sleep."

- "Sure, sorry for coming so late."

- "Don’t worry"- Joey stood up and was about to walk him to the door when Gerard wrapped his arms around her. She didn’t know how to react to it, so she just stayed still for a second. He smelled so good. That hadn’t changed. But he didn’t feel like a magnet anymore. It still felt weird to be hugged by him. Like… it was dangerous somehow.

- "Sleep tight, ok?"- Gerard moved slightly apart from her but made sure to stay close enough to feel her perfume around him and kissed her cheek. She nodded and felt her knees shake. He could make her nervous; that was a fact.

Gerard was hot, caring, and he was holding her tight. But it was wrong. It felt wrong. And Joey didn’t want to be under those circumstances again.

- "Ok, goodnight"- she moved away from him quickly, making him feel rejected. Gerard Way, rejected? He tried not to make eye contact with her and walked outside the room. Joey stared at the door to make sure he was gone and scratched her eyes in disbelief.

- “What the fuck was that?”- she asked herself in shock- “Was Gerard hitting on me? That felt weird. It didn’t feel naive…. It wasn’t friendly… his eyes… it felt he was trying to get me naked… what the fuck?”

The girl laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to analyze what had happened. She couldn’t find any logical reason to explain Gerard’s behavior. He had been awkward since the moment he stepped into the room. Then he had hugged her for no reason, and then he stared at her from the smallest distance possible. He kissed her cheek, so gently, so slowly, like he was kissing her lips. Sure, he was hot, sure, she had been attracted to him before, but that didn’t mean under any circumstances that she was going to cave in and kiss him.

- “Yeah, I’ve had fantasies, like the kind of fantasies I have with Chris Hemsworth… fuck, he is hot.”

The girl made a pause, ‘cos her thoughts started drifting to the actor.

- “But hell no! I’m not making out with Gerard. He is married, I’m going to be married, and I am not interested, thank you very much”.

Japan was a blast. It was a lot of work, and it was wearing because of the insane jet lag, but mostly, it had been amazing. And for Joey was special too, 'cos Mikey hadn’t seemed that happy ever since she first met him.

But talking with Matthew had been hard. Japan was 16 hours ahead of time, and he was either sleeping or working when she could speak. The same for him. The girl couldn’t wait to reach London to be in a more normal time zone. At least there, she was going to be just nine hours ahead of him.

::: London, February 12th, 2011 :::

Joey walked around Frank’s room holding Cherry while Jamia changed Lily’s diaper. Frank was carrying all of the suitcases downstairs to take his wife and babies to the airport. They had spent an amazing week together in London. Even Joey was sad to know Jamia was leaving. She loved the babies and, just as Frank had warned her, she had had to babysit for them a couple of times, with Ray and Mikey, while Frank and his wife had a couple of dates.

- "If you need anything for the wedding, please don’t doubt and call me, or text me, this is my number"- Mrs. Iero smiled at Joey and gave her a little paper.

- "Thank you, Jamia."

- "I don’t know if you have any married friends in Los Angeles or someone with some wedding experience to give you a hand with all the preparations."

- "I don’t, actually"- the girl whispered, blushing- "I don’t have any kind of idea or clue about what I have to do."

- "Oh shit! This is so exciting!"- and Jamia nearly jumped as she stared at the drummer- "Then I’m gonna have to go help you in person “And hang out your hot fiancé!! Maybe I can help him pick up the tuxedo for the ceremony… maybe I can watching changing outfits over and over and over again.”

- "Jamia, Jamia"- Frank stood in front of his wife and waved- "Earth to Jamia!"

- "Sorry! I was… lost in thoughts. I wanna help Joey with the wedding."

- "Don’t worry, Jamia, I don’t wanna be trouble"- Joey smiled awkwardly as Frank took Cherry from her arms and kissed his baby’s chubby cheeks.

- "Don’t be silly. It’s no trouble. I love to help."

- "You love the groom, face it"- Frank joked, making Joey laugh immediately as Jamia hit his arm a couple of times.

- "Shut up!!"

- "It’s ok, Jamia. I’ll call you in case I need any help, so… I’ll call you a lot of times"- Jamia smiled and gave Joey a small hug.

- "Take care."

- "You too! Thank you for hanging out with me."

- "Don’t be silly!"- Jamia chuckled- "I had a great time! Please, if my husband does something stupid, don’t doubt and hit him"- Joey burst out laughing, and Frank chuckled.

- "Jeez, you really trust me."

- "I actually know you, Paco. I’m not guessing here. I’m talking facts"- the woman stuck out her tongue to her husband and looked at Joey again- "And if he tries to get you into more tattoos."

- "He already got me two, but the last one was too painful, so this might be it."

- "I told you, the ribs are the worst, but you wanted your last name there, and it was your birthday gift"- Iero chuckled and messed with Joey’s hair.

Jamia liked knowing Frank was, in fact, a friend to Joey and that she wasn’t a threat to her in any way.

- "Ok, come on, I’ll take you to the airport"- Joey waved, and Frank nodded- "See you later, Bug"- the three of them walked outside the room, and Joey walked to her door.

- "Hey Lynz"- the drummer said, surprised to find her outside her room- "What are you doing here?"

- "I was looking for… Gerard"- she said and frowned, disappointed, or maybe surprised, to find he wasn’t with her.

- "I haven’t seen him. I was with Jamia helping her getting the babies ready for the flight"- Joey smiled and opened the door.

- "Can I talk to you for a second?"- and her stomach jumped at those words immediately.

- "Sure, what is it? Please, come in."

Lynz walked into Joey’s room and sighed, trying to set her speech straight, to don’t fuck it up and look like a psycho killer. That would make everything worse. She had managed to stay calm around her husband, though every day, she was more and more certain Gerard had a crush on Joey.

- "I’m sorry to bother you, I just… needed to know your opinion, as a woman."

- "Tell me… wow, this is weird, no one ever asks my opinion as a woman"- Joey joked and sat Indian style on her bed- "Please, make yourself home."

- "Thanks"- Lynz sat next to her and smiled- "I just needed to know if Gerard has been weird with you or something."

And Joey’s cheek turned red right away.

- "Weird? Weird like what?"- she honestly asked, thinking there was no way Mrs. Way knew her husband was a flirt with Joey. ‘Cos he was.

- "I don’t know… has he tried anything with you?"

- "What? No!"- the drummer widened her eyes in shock- "We don’t even spend time alone"- which was true- "And we are not even that close"- also true- "So there’s no way he could have tried anything with me."

Joey tried to calm herself down a little bit and looked into Lynz’s eyes.

- "Why would you ask me such a thing? Did something happen?"

- "No. I just know him, and I feel he is maybe a little crush on you"- Lynz was honest with Joey, ‘cos she felt she didn’t reciprocate his husband’s feelings. Maybe by talking about it, she could make sure Joey would stay away from the singer.

- "Shit! No!"- Joey quickly answered, still in shock- "Lynz, I swear nothing has happened with Gerard! And there is no way anything could ever happen with Gerard"- and Joey meant every word.

- "Thank you"- Lynz sighed and looked at the woman sitting in front of her- "I don’t mean to be a psychopath weird bitchy wife, I just…"- she made a pause and scratched her head with closed eyes- "Sometimes he spends so much time away… it makes me doubt."

- "Of him?"

- "Of everything, I guess… maybe after what happened with Alicia and Mikey."

- "She cheated, right?"- Mrs. Way nodded at Joey’s question- "She is still your friend"

- "Yes, but it got weird… and it makes me wonder if my relationship with Gerard could ever get to that point of no return"- Lynz was playing the empathy card with Joey- "Have you ever felt like you and Matthew are growing apart while you are away?"

The drummer’s heart stopped at the thought, and her hand unconsciously reached the necklace he had given her.

- "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out."

- "Don’t worry, I guess it’s something we are all worried about at some point."

Joey was sincere, sensing maybe Lynz was honest and vulnerable around her. She didn’t really swallow a lot of crap from people, but she knew Gerard had acted strange with her, so maybe his wife was right.

- "But about me, don’t worry. Gerard hasn’t tried anything weird, and I am not looking for anything weird with him either"- Joey cut her a warm smile- "We are not that close. I’ve always felt he is still not sure about having me in the band, so…"

- "Don’t worry, I get it"- Lynz wanted to believe her, ‘cos she seemed sincere- "Anyway, I don’t wanna freak you out, I better go finish packing."

- "You are leaving?"- Joey frowned as the two of them stood up and walked to the door- "Why?"

- "I’ve got to work, and you will be stuck in a bus with the band for the following weeks. I don’t want to be you"- Joey burst out laughing, thinking she was right.

- "Mikey farting, that’s something I don’t miss"- the two women were still laughing when Gerard appeared as soon as Joey opened the door.

- "Gee"- Lynz frowned, and the singer froze, feeling caught.

- "Hey… what are you doing here?"- he asked and looked at his wife, not knowing what to do.

- "I was hanging out with Joey, you?"

- "I wanted to ask Joey if she had seen you. I reached our room, and you weren’t there, and I can’t find the guys either"- his excuse smelled like bullshit, and everybody knew it- "Besides, I wanted to remind you today we are leaving right away after the show, so you should get your bags into the bus soon"- Joey nodded and turned to Lynz.

- “Shit, now she is going to think I was lying to her” Yes, Ray already called me to remind me that, and Mikey said he was coming in a while to help me taking everything downstairs."

-" Great"- Lynz kept looking at her husband, and Joey kept wondering what to do next.

- "I’m gonna get ready for the show then"- the drummer said and turned to the other girl- "I’m sorry we didn’t have more time to hang out."

A part of her was honest. Joey didn’t want Lynz to leave thinking she was trying to steal her husband, ‘cos she wasn’t.

- "Thanks"- Lynz looked at her and cut her a smile, meeting Joey’s apologetic eyes.

- "And I meant it, everything I said… about Mikey"- Gerard frowned right away. What were those two talking about on their own?- "He hasn’t been weird, but if he is, I’m gonna make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid"- the two of them stared at each other, and finally, Lynz nodded.

- "Thanks, I trust you’d do the right thing."

- "What about my brother?"

- "We were just talking about him and Alicia"- Lynz lied and held her husband's hand- "Come on, let’s leave Joey do her things, see you later."

- "Yes! Later!"

The drummer closed the door behind her back and sighed. What the fuck was going on?

**

taglist @all-tings-diego @worryd0ll

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[yelenasdog]

school girl skirts and metallica (warren worthington x fem reader (kinda) nsfw head canons)

genre: lemón if u catch my drift. like nothing explicit tho

summary: warren’s a spicy (yet somehow shy) mf w a thing for skirts and tights. that’s literally it

words: 845

warnings: i am a minor, and if that makes u uncomfy, don’t read :), cursing, themes of warren being sub-ish?? very heavy implications of sex, hank being nosy, idk, just warren being a horny fucker, that’s it.

a/n: yeah uhhhh my blog was previously nsfw free, but this has been sitting in my drafts for awhile and i want it oUT. also i put the keep reading in a weird place so that ppl could ignore this if they wanted lols.  k enjoy mwah

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to put it plainly, warren worthington has the hots for girls that wear short school girl skirts.

stop what ur doing and say that 10 times fast

u prolly couldn’t HA ok sorry for bullying u, back to warren

now, he found this out after beginning to attend xaviers, which has no dress code.

but for some reason

you enjoyed wearing this evergreen and navy colored skirt, rolled up. u paired it with a collared shirt, a jumper, and a worn leather jacket that went to your knees.

but what really got him, was the white knee highs you wore with your docs.

drove him absolutely crazy

so when he finally got the nerve to ask you out, he was ecstatic when you (obviously) said yes.

the two of you were known as a sort of punky couple around school

often found sitting together on sunny days underneath an oak tree, leather jackets abandoned in the heat.

the pair would share their earbuds, listening to metallica just loud enough that it would do no harm to your ears (for your sake, he couldn’t care less about his own)

after some time together, he simply couldn’t take it anymore.

it was another normal day, both of you sitting under your favorite spot, watching as the few students walked about, minding their business

it was sparse on the courtyard, though, as it was rather chilly that day, so most opted to stay in, comforted by the fire xavier always had on inside.

and warren’s mind immediately went to how you were still wearing that blessed skirt despite the weather, a pair of tights in addition to the high socks resting under the fabric.

he seemed on edge, which you picked up on immediately.

worried that maybe the cold had gotten to him, you placed a concerned hand on his neck.

“warr? are you alright?”

given his current state, at the brief contact, his large hand immediately formed a fist.

you moved the hand to run itself through his golden curls, and he nuzzled further into your palm.

you smiled sympathetically, allowing him to close his eyes, finding a momentary bliss in your warmth.

“what’s wrong, golden boy?” you barely whispered, hoping to ease whatever illness he might have been feeling.

he opened his eyes, tentatively moving his own hand to your thigh, snapping the elastic of your tights.

“i need’ya.” he muttered, closing his eyes again.

oh.

oh

you tilted your head, heart beating much faster now.

you ran your thumb across his stark cheekbone, feeling a shiver run down his spine, his wings also vibrating lowly.

“what was that, warr?”

he all but whined, “you’re driving me mad in that skirt, ‘s all i can think ‘bout.”

a wide smile spread across your features, still not completely sure where this was going, although you may have had an idea or two.

you can probably guess what happened next.

and no, you heathen

you didn’t do it right there.

did he want to?

oh, no doubt, that cheeky little bastard. (lmao) you had to basically pull him to his dorm.

once you did make it there, though

it was hot and heavy behind closed doors

he was a brat fs, but he was ur good boy or whateva

😳🗿🌝

anywayyy

when he finally, hehhem, ya know

does it

his wings spread out and scratch at the sheets, ripping them basically to shreds LOLS

after that, he has to get new ones every week after you, uh, visit

and of course some of the staff wonder why his door is often closed

and some even begin to notice how he always seems to be visited by you each week with a pack of new linen

(which was strictly for the reason that you get annoyed when ur foot gets stuck in the rips when cuddling, by the way)

and he hates making u upset

so he gives u the cash and u go buy them, as a compromise

(which also confuses the staff bc its a literal boarding school so everything u need is there, but you think it would be too suspicious to go and get new sheets every week at abt the same time)

buttttt back to the store

u would get the linen ofc but not w/ out coming back with some snacks and movies

which usually would lead to needing more sheets AGAIN (if u catch my drift rejkbgr)

but anywho

nobody ever says anything

xavier doesn’t even begin to pick up on it, that poor man

hank kinda thinks something fishy is going on, but chooses to ignore it completely

avoiding any convo of that nature at all costs

(but he does make sure to loudly tell charles about how important it is for the youth to practice safe sex when he sees the two of you near, much to charles’ confusion.)

not to mention relentless teasing from jubilee, who told jean, who then of course told scott, leading to being teased by all of them!

(minus peter, he would just occasionally nudge warren on the shoulder and smirk, but that was it)

but in the end, nothing could put a damper on the relationship of you two, truly.

he loved you (not that he would say it yet)

and you loved him (ditto! fun!)

but let’s be real here

the real savior of your relationship? the real matchmaker, if u will?

that damned school girl skirt.

[collecting-stories]

3am Friend - c. 01 - Topper Thornton

Summary: Topper and y/n have been in a “friends with benefits” relationship since September but the line between friendship and something more are already starting to blur. 

A/N: This is basically four chapters: Fall, Winter, Spring, and Summer. Also it’s going to be a bit of a practice run at writing more smut for me lol. Also it’s smut like, right under the cut lol. 

Sophomore Year Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

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What were you doing with your life...

You bit down on your bottom lip to stifle a moan as Topper’s tongue pressed against your clit, the cold tiled wall of the shower stall pressing into your back had your skin erupting in goosebumps, a contrast to the almost burning water that was hitting you. It was futile to bother concealing whatever noises Topper managed to pull out of you, the curtains of the shower stalls did little to shield their occupants from the rest of the communal bathroom, the plastic more often than not creating the perfect outline of whoever decided to use the showers. There would be no mistaking you, pressed against the wall, one leg tossed over Topper’s shoulder, his own figure silhouetted, kneeling in front of you with his hands digging into your hips.  

If anyone did find you there was a 90% chance that they weren’t just going to let you off with a ‘sorry for intruding while some guy eats you out in the shower’ but any concern you actually had about the consequences of your hookup had died the minute Topper had joined you in the shower stall. Technically he’d texted you to come over to his dorm, he lived right off the main campus, close to your building, in a still operational fraternity house. He split a room with some guy who liked to stare but never actually talk when you came around. Yours was not a relationship of anything substantial. You’d hooked up with Topper at a party and exchanged numbers and, two days later, responded to a very obvious booty call at one in the morning.  

“Holy shit!” You cursed, your voice coming out an octave higher than usual, fingers gripping Topper’s short blond hair. You could feel every muscle in your body tense as you tried to keep yourself upright, your other hand grabbing hold of the dial on the faucet in a desperate attempt to not completely fall apart as Topper sucked on your clit. He had moved one of his hands at some point, middle finger now moving rhythmically in and out of your entrance, working you through an orgasm.  

When you came down, your muscles relaxing and you pushing back against the wall to keep yourself steady, leg slipping off Topper’s shoulder, he stood up. He caged you in almost immediately, moving as close as possible in the stall and kissing you, the salty taste of cum still there on his mouth. “That pad really comes in handy,” he teased, referring to the silicone mat you’d bought two weeks earlier to scrub your feet without trying to do a yoga pose in the shower.  

You hummed, “I’ll leave that in my review on Amazon. Great for not bruising your knees.” When he kissed you again you smiled, eyes fluttering closed for a split second. This was the worst part. The part when you ran out of things to say and he would untangle himself from your arms and leave, promise to text you later.  

It was the thing that your roommate had warned you about in the beginning that you had ignored.  

“That’s like, not even friends with benefits though.” She had admonished when you told her for the first time that you had started this bizarre relationship with Topper. “I mean, you’re literally having casual sex with some rando guy that you hooked up with at a party. At a frat party. Do you even fucking know anything about him?”

“I know his name,” you had replied, rummaging through your closet to find something to wear to class, “and his phone number so I can booty call him.”

“Brilliant.” She snapped, “he could be some fucking weirdo axe murderer preying on college girls.”  

You rolled your eyes, “he’s the same age as us.” You had never been one for casual sex in your life until this point and you weren’t sure why it seemed enticing now but you wanted to branch out a little. You’d gotten your first boyfriend in ninth and you’d stuck with him until August of this, your sophomore year of college. He broke up with you, claiming the distance between your school and his was too much for him to deal with.  

It was your roommate that had dragged you to the party at the fraternity house, claiming that it would get your mood up after the guy you’d been with for the last five years decided he couldn’t do the 2 hour commute between your school and his. Three shots of tequila later and the blond you couldn’t take your eyes off of asking if you wanted to ‘go somewhere quiet’ were all the motivation you needed to put the past behind you and stop groveling over a guy who wasn’t even there.  

Still, the fact remained, even now as Topper put his hands on your hips, looking at you through the mirror and kissing the back of your head, you knew that casual sex was not your forte. Not simply because you had never done it before but because you found yourself craving those small, just after when the bubble had broken yet and there was still some lingering affection, moments as much as you craved the sex. But you had both agreed, casual. Something to take your mind off school for a few hours, a stress relief. For you it was more than that. You’d never been the most confident when it came to sex or your body, all that self-love/self-care crap was wasted on you and your gnawing insecurities. Having casual sex was like constantly challenging yourself to be your most exposed and most intimate with someone who was still relatively a stranger to you.  

“You know I think it was technically supposed to be my turn,” you mentioned, running the wide-toothed comb through your hair. You should’ve detangled in the shower except that wasn’t really top priority. What would you even say, ‘oh, would you mind not eating me out for a second so I can brush my hair’…you’d live with the awkward waves that dried in.  

“I thought we switched.” Topper shrugged, pulling his sweatpants back on. His shirt went over his head and you involuntarily pouted at the mirror, there went the view.  

“No, I said…this doesn’t technically count.” You replied, referring to the party three nights earlier and the head you’d given to avoid having actual sex on your period. You were at the tail end and you’d contemplated not going to the frat house at all but changed your mind at the last moment.  

“Hey, if you’re offering, I’m not gonna turn you down.” He joked.  

You turned to look at him, the mirror not sufficing as you stuck your tongue out playfully. “I have a test tomorrow, I have to study.”  

“Come over, you can study in my room. We’ll hang out.”  

“We are incapable of hanging out Topper.” You replied, grabbing your shower caddy and heading for the door. He walked right out after you, both of you ignoring the rather appreciative stare of one of the other girls on your floor.  

“Not true,” he’d suffered a nasty break-up in high school that he gave no more background to other than to say she had cheated on him extensively. Casual seemed to be the best he could allow himself to do though you weren’t sleeping with anyone else and, as far as you knew, neither was he.  

Your roommate looked up from her desk, rolling her eyes at the sight of Topper following you into your dorm. In the beginning of September, when this first started, it felt like you only ever disappeared at night. You saw Topper when he texted you and you might smile in the café but you never actively sought each other out. Now it was creeping toward November though, with Halloween right around the corner, and Topper felt like an accessory. He was always right there wherever you were, not that you were complaining. To anyone on the outside you looked like a couple but you both maintained the friends with benefits story.  

“Oh look who it is.” Almost two whole months of him and your roommate still greeted Topper with a disdainful glare. She was fervent in her belief that the guy you thought was damn near perfect (if only he’d actually date you) was hiding some deep-seated flaw.  

“Hey G,” Topper greeted, taking a seat on your bed as if he couldn’t tell just how annoyed your roommate was.  

-

Geena and you had been thrown together after enduring a freshman year from hell. Her roommate from the year prior had been awful, like caging yourself in with some 00’s mean girl who only found satisfaction in watching you suffer. Your own freshman roommate had been neurotic about the dorm and constantly scrutinized whether your cleaning methods were sufficient. Geena was a blessing, you got along well, hung out all the time, had become fast friends in the short time since the beginning of the semester. Topper was the only thing you didn’t agree on. She thought it was unhealthy, that it would only lead to heartbreak.  

“You can’t have casual sex with a guy for three years…people already think you’re dating. Some girl I don’t even know asked me if I could get her into a Phi Sig party next week cause my roomie is dating one of the guys.” There was a new reason almost daily with Geena, like she tore away a new page on the calendar and it offered up cons to your relationship with Topper in lieu of a word for the day.  

“I can ask for her.”  

“Oh my god, that is not the point.” She snapped.  

You sighed, “I don’t really care if people think we’re dating.”

“Why?” She asked the question so smugly you already knew where she was going with this. And you knew why it didn’t bother you that people thought you were dating, why you sometimes even fanned that flame.  

“G-“

“No, tell me why? People usually keep that shit quiet so they can hook-up with other people too. So why don’t you care?”  

“Because if people think we’re dating…they won’t try to date him.” You shrugged, practically mumbling the last part. You hated that she knew that off the bat, that she could tell that you liked him so much in such a short span of time. And you knew she had a point to all her antagonizing. You had been in too deep since two weeks into September when he told you that you looked pretty in something your ex always said made you look fat.  

-

You held the seam of your towel shut as you rummaged through the set of plastic drawers underneath your bed. Geena had done the bed on risers thing for optimal storage and you had followed along, semi grateful for the added space since both of you seemed inclined to transport your entire bedroom with you. Topper’s foot nudged your side as you got closer to him and you looked up, matching his smile when you caught him staring at you. You were sure Geena was sitting behind you rolling her eyes.  

“Guess I’ll go grab something to eat.” She announced, as if your very presence had worn her down.  

“I’m just getting changed, I think we’re heading over to Topper’s.” You replied, looking back over your shoulder at her.  

Geena scrunched her nose and stood up anyway, “still would rather not be here while you got dressed so I don’t have to pretend like I can’t see this one leering at you.” She shot Topper a look of contempt as she passed. If it was real, if he asked you out and he was really, actually, your boyfriend, Geena was positive she’d have no problems with him. He seemed like alright and he certainly made you happier and more confident than she’d seen you in the beginning of the year. But she hated the thought of you getting hurt and didn’t want to be just sitting on the sidelines watching it happen.

“I don’t leer.” He joked, turning back to you once she was out the door, “I don’t leer.”

You didn’t answer, instead grabbing your underwear out of the top drawer and pulling them on once the door was shut. The first time you had ever gotten dressed with Topper around you’d made sure that you were obscured from view, still too bashful and self-conscious of the way that you looked without clothes on. There was still that split second moment when you doubted yourself, when you thought about maneuvering your towel to hide your body from view, as if after two months Topper might suddenly look at you and decide he didn’t like the softness of your stomach or the width of your hips or any other imperfection you could find.  

You pushed through the voice though, dropping your towel and getting dressed. When you reached for the bralette your tossed on the bed beside him you realized he was looking at you. “G might have a point, maybe I should turn around.” You teased, his eyes snapping up to meet yours.  

“I’m admiring the view.” Topper replied, not at all embarrassed at being caught.  

You rolled your eyes, pulling your bralette on and adjusting your boobs until it sat right. “I don’t even know why I’m putting this on,” you mentioned, grabbing his sweatshirt to pull on over it, “I should just stop wearing underwear to your room and then I won’t ever lose it.”  

“You lose stuff? Whose wearing my hoodie right now?” He asked, grabbing the edge of the hood to pull you closer to him.  

“Your room has swallowed three of my bras...the nice ones too. Or Will like, took them.” You said.  

If there was some kind of formal set of rules that you and Topper had ever thought to draft, kissing outside of actually having sex with each other should have qualified as a major no. But nothing of the sort had ever been discussed and now, Topper leaned over, stealing a quick kiss before he got off your bed. Maybe now didn’t count as a ‘just friends’ moment though since technically you were heading back to his room, presumably to have sex. To finish what he’d started when he showed up seconds before you got a shower.  

“What would Will need your bras for?”

“To masturbate over? Who knows...all I’m saying is, I wear bras to your room, I never seem to leave with them.” You replied.  

“I promise I will find all your missing bras today, okay?” He grabbed your lanyard off the hook, keys and wallet all in one place, pulling the door open for you. “Wanna grab pizza later?”  

You chewed on your bottom lip, waiting a beat to answer him. Grabbing pizza meant, inevitably, hanging out after. Becoming friends was unavoidable, there was no way that either of you could have navigated sleeping together without some sort of relationship forming. So far it was only friendship, or at least that was all either of you were willing to let it be. Anything more than that meant an actual romantic relationship forming, something you wanted but were determined not to let yourself even entertain the idea of.  

“Fine but not from that place by Barnaby's.” You replied, pushing the door open and stepping out into the quad with him. The local bar was always teeming with college students and the last thing you wanted was someone recognizing Topper, because everyone always seemed to recognize Topper, and invite the two of you in.  

“We’ll just get it delivered.” He shrugged.  

The first time you met Topper, enough to tequila to not make you totally embarrassed as you danced with Geena in the main room of the Phi Sig frat house, you had laughed when he told you his name. It was a combination of the heels you borrowed from another girl on your floor and the alcohol that had you losing your footing, catching yourself in time not to smash your whole body into a coffee table, and landing on the couch beside Topper. He was taking a sip of beer and looked relatively startled when some almost drunk girl fell into the spot next to him.  

“Sorry!” You’d shouted over the bass as you tried to undo the straps of the heels that you were sure were also guilty of twisting your ankle.  

When he introduced himself two sentences later, “I’m Topper” you couldn’t resist a good dad-joke and smiled at him, “but I hardly know her!”

“Amazing.” He had been less amused by the joke than you were though he didn’t really seem bothered by it, at least not bothered enough to move on because he stayed on the couch for three more turns of the conversation before asking if you wanted to talk elsewhere. You were sober enough to know exactly what he meant and obliged because you were still kinda pissed at your ex and you didn’t want this year to pass the same as last year had, with nothing but school work to show as a passing of time.  

At least you’d have a good story to tell.  

Highschool you had a healthy apprehension of frat houses and the people who lived in them. You’d seen enough episodes of CSI, Law and Order, Veronica Mars, and any other crime show that existed in the early 00’s to know that frat houses were breeding grounds for terrible things. Your parents had even attempted to sway you from going to your first-choice college simply because the greeks still existed on campus. You could only imagine what they’d think now, knowing that you had spent more time in Topper’s room than you had in your own in the last month at least.  

Frat houses might’ve been sordid in your mind but so far, your reality of this one was exactly what it looked like on the surface, a bunch of guys living together with limited supervision. You still stuck to Topper whenever you were inside but you’d never had a problem with anyone in there and you rightly assumed that most of them just figured you were his girlfriend.  

“Will told me he wants that TA position next year, with Prof Berkley.” You mentioned, flopping back onto Topper’s bed and tilting your head so you could look over to the empty other side of the room that belonged to his roommate. Aside from staring at you too much and possibly stealing your bras, you still had a hunch that Topper was just messing with you and had them stashed away somewhere, Will was alright. You were both in the same area of study, pre-law, and he had told you days earlier that he was gunning for the same TA position with your advisor as you were.  

“I don’t know anything about it.” Topper replied, kicking his slides off and climbing onto his bed with you. The countdown in your head started now, hopefully soon you would be naked.  

“Yes, you do because I literally told you about it at breakfast.” You pointed out. He’d texted you that morning to get coffee with him and you ignored Geena when she told you that sex-friends don’t get coffee together. “I said I was applying for the TA spot because it’s a massive opportunity.”  

“Sounds like something I don’t have an opinion on.” He said, rolling over so that he could kiss you. “Enough chit-chat.”

“You’ve got a one-track mind Thornton.” You joked, moving your arms above your head as he pulled his sweatshirt off of you.  

“Well can I interest you in getting on that track with me?” He replied, lips brushing over your neck as he spoke. You hadn’t bothered to put on any makeup before you left your dorm, you hadn’t even bothered to dry your hair all the way. But who were you to worry about things like that when Topper was pushing your bralette up over your head.  

You jerked slightly, wriggling around on the bed when the fabric got caught half way up your arms, binding them above your head and covering your face, Topper taking advantage of the moment and sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it as you arched your back into him. “Topper!” You whined.  

He hummed, pulling away from you to take the bralette the rest of the way off and tossing it off the bed, “sorry, couldn’t resist.” He said, smiling at you as if he truly couldn’t resist. The thought made butterflies erupt in your stomach.  

You didn’t let yourself have the moment though, pulling him in for a kiss the moment he had untangled you, hand on the back of his neck as you ran your tongue against his bottom lip, biting gently as you pulled away. Topper held himself up on one elbow, his other hand pushing passed your sweatpants.  

“Always right down to business,” you teased.  

“What do you want me to take you out first?” He was joking, you knew that, but the way he said almost sounded like he truly would take you out if you wanted him to. But then what would this be, if you had dinner before you hooked up.

“Some foreplay would be nice.” You kept the conversation light, the way you always did, and he laughed.  

“I thought the shower was foreplay.”  

You would’ve answered, thought of something witty to make him laugh again, but he had pushed your underwear to the side, fingers pushing passed your folds to brush your clit. He made the same satisfied hum that he always did when he realized that you were wet, like a quiet pat on the back. His middle finger circled your clit, a barely there shudder of nerves setting off in your stomach as you moaned.  

“I was supposed to,” you managed as he shifted further down the bed and you realized what he was doing.  

“We have plenty of time.” He promised, pressing a kiss to your stomach.  

Topper hadn’t seriously dated anyone since his break-up with Sarah. Kelce told him constantly that he was putting too much on that relationship, as if it was the holy grail by which to rate every other relationship that he had. And maybe he was allowing himself to be too scorned by something that lasted little more than a summer but he couldn’t help it. Topper was nothing if not a hopeless romantic and that had felt like such an idealistic time in his life until it all inevitably crashed around him.  

He tried casual hook-ups before you. A few girls from high school that he knew that made it practically impossible for the casual to still exist alongside the hook-up. College was easier but freshman year had been mostly dedicated to rushing the fraternity that his dad and grandfather and great grandfather had all rushed before him. Then he met you at a party in the beginning of sophomore year and he told himself it was casual but he knew that this was far from it.  

You weren’t anything like Sarah and maybe he had done that on purpose. Specifically slept with someone that didn’t remind him of anyone back home as some way to separate himself from that part of his life. To fully embody the frat boy, jock, life he was trying to live through. He figured it would just be a onetime thing and then maybe a sometime thing but now it was most definitely an all the time thing. Kelce told him that he should just ask you out but Topper felt like he was in too deep already.  

This was supposed to be strictly friends with benefits, if he crossed that line and you said no he would be crushed.  

“Topper,” you moaned, bringing him back to the moment. You shuddered as he pulled his fingers out of you, placing a kiss just below your belly button. When you tugged at the short blond hairs at the back of his head he shifted, letting you lead him back up so that you could kiss him.  

You had told him specifically that it was your turn, as if he really cared about taking turns at all. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it? You don’t have some fussy girlfriend bitching about giving you head.” Rafe’s colourful comments about the situation had been largely ignored but Topper knew, less crudely, he was right. The whole reason the two of you had started this was for sex of any kind and you had been the one to suggest taking turns.  

“My ex wasn’t very forthcoming with praise. He always told me I was kinda shitty at sucking dick so, maybe it’d be kinda nice to practice.” It’s been a colourful sentiment, one you had felt oddly comfortable sharing with Topper when the two of you first sat in his room discussing the arrangement.  

And while he wholeheartedly disagreed with your ex-boyfriend, Topper just liked being the one to give. He liked that moment when everything overwhelmed you enough that you let go and stopped worrying about if you looked attractive in a certain position or if your thighs were too big or if you had any unwanted rolls. That split second between overthinking and not thinking at all was powerful and Topper liked being the one who caused it. He liked the way you looked in his bed, biting your bottom lip to keep quiet so other guys in the house didn’t hear you. The way your hair tangled just from laying on your back. He could list a million things, every one more obscure, less noticeable, than the last because he felt like when you were around all he could do was pay attention.  

“Hey, quit daydreaming about Hailey Bieber-“ you teased as Topper’s movements slowed down, his lips brushing languidly against your collar like he was in some lethargic trance.  

He squeezed your side, baring his teeth to nip at your neck, scraping them across your skin and making you laugh as you turned your head towards his. That lazy smile you got was there, eyes hooded as you watched him, the moment passed and he leaned in to kiss you again. When he broke away it was only to grab a condom from the box on his dresser.  

Topper pushed your legs apart, settling between them. He slipped one hand beneath your back, guiding it into an arch to bring your chest closer to him, mouth finding one of your breasts. His tongue pressed against your nipple, swirling around it as you dug your nails in the sheets beneath you. He looked up at you, eyes hooded, as he pushed you back down against the bed. “God,” he breathed out, “you’re so fucking gorgeous.”  

You grabbed the back of Topper’s neck, pulling him into a kiss, slower than the ones before, more tender. Your other hand moved down between your bodies, finding his dick, enjoying the way he moaned against your mouth as you guided him in. Despite the orgasm he’d given you in the shower you still felt that stretch as he pushed in, kissing across your jaw and sucking a bruise into the space just behind your ear.  

You would never tell Geena but somewhere between quick hook-ups and longer nights together your ‘just casual sex’ had turned into something else, something far more meaningful though neither of you would acknowledge it.  

Instead you just held onto him, nails scratching a trail down his back as he found a rhythm, Instead, you just held onto him, nails scratching a trail down his back as he found a rhythm, hips snapping against yours. The sound of your panting breath and his grunts filled the room; you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning when Topper’s fingers dipped passed your folds to massage your clit.  

“Oh god, Topper,” you whined, turning your face enough to press your cheek into Topper’s pillow, the faint smell of his cologne hitting your nose. You breathed in, always a fan of the subtle musk.  

“Does that feel good baby?” His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, words barely registering over the sensation of him. You opened your legs a little further, lifting your knee and hooking your leg over his back. The angle seemed to give more depth and his movements picked up speed. His fingers circled your clit faster as he continued to whisper words of encouragement to you. A quiet “come on baby, I know you’re close”.  

“Are you?”  

His comment had seemingly brought you just out of the haze enough to ask him if he was close. You knew you were, he knew you were, and you wanted him to be there too, just on that edge with you. As he pulled out you clenched around him and when he pushed back in it felt deeper than before, that all too familiar groan of satisfaction leaving his lips as you guided him back into a kiss. He didn’t answer your question, instead taking the opportunity to kiss you, tongue working it’s way into your mouth and dragging across your teeth. You found your grip on his hair, tugging hard enough that he jerked his hips in retaliation, hitting so deep you felt yourself go off that edge, his motion become erratic as he followed, smoothing your scream with another kiss, biting your bottom lip as he pulled away.  

There was always a moment of frenzy in the beginning when you first started hooking up. You would rush to grab your clothes, partially because you felt the need to leave when the act was done and partially because you didn’t want him to linger too long on your body. You were a temporary fix for a problem he didn’t feel like dealing with on his own, he wasn’t responsible for making you feel good about yourself. He wasn’t your boyfriend, he wasn’t obligated to tell you that you were beautiful or lavish any compliment onto you at all, not that your ex had ever been willing to either. You didn’t stay, for the first few weeks you trudged back across the lawn from the frat house, back to the dorms, and snuck in. But things had changed by mid October and what was once a booty call at one in the morning when he couldn’t sleep was now you going over for pizza and a study session that turned into an afternoon spent in his bed.  

“What time is Will back?” You asked, sitting up as Topper came back into the room with two water bottles. There was still that awkward moment just after sex, as if neither of you knew how to leave behind the intimacy of the act and return to normal life. Like you were both waiting for the other to admit that maybe just friends wasn’t really what you wanted at all. So he disappeared downstairs to get water and you pulled your underwear and his sweatshirt back on, leaving the bra somewhere on the floor.  

The empty other side of the room served as a poignant reminder that time alone was only ever temporary.  

“Not sure,” he shrugged, “he’s been talking about some girl on campus that he’s dating. Won’t reveal her name apparently, he’s convinced Fitz will try to fuck with them if he finds out.” His fraternity brothers were not the same as hanging out with Kelce and Rafe every day but they weren’t the worst substitutes for entertainment. Fitz was the head of the house, a senior whose greatest claim to fame was being party to a wildly controversial radio-show that amounted to nothing more than some white guys imitating Rush Limbaugh and the Douche from Parks & Rec. He said dumb shit just to piss people off and had an unappreciated proclivity for trying to ruin any relationship one of his brothers found themselves in.  

Will was always an easy target for him though he’d set his sights on you a few times, assuming like others did, that you and Topper were dating. You had never mentioned it to Topper, Fitz was gross and you were looking forward to his inevitable graduation at the end of May.  

“Fitz totally would,” you replied. Last year you existed on no one’s radar. You hadn’t so much as gotten an offer to go out on a date with someone and yet this year, all because of Topper, you were sure, it felt like everyone in his circle seemed to pay attention to you in some way. “He told me he prank called Will’s mom two weeks ago pretending to be the on campus nurse for a bit on his radio show.”  

Topper looked up from his phone and the pizza he was ordering, frown etched onto his features. “When did you talk to Fitz?”  

“His econ class is right down the hall from my 12:30 poly sci class…he always ‘walks with me across campus’ in case I get mugged apparently.” You laughed, “I think he just does it cause he knows we hang out.”  

“I didn’t know he was talking to you.”  

You shrugged, Fitz had been goading you for weeks but it wasn’t anything that felt harmful. Just some mind-numbingly dumb conversation about parties and girls and his radio show and how hot he apparently thought you were. “It’s not a big deal, if he was bothering me I probably would’ve said something.”  

“Right,” Topper still looked miffed despite having no reason to be. You weren’t interested in Fitz and, even if you were, what say did he have over it. That old familiar feeling crept in though, the one he recognised as the same one that the plagued him after Wheezie told him that Sarah had cheated on the boyfriend before him only to find out that she had cheated on him with John B. When he looked over you were pouting at him, “what?”

“Your room is so cold.” You replied, pulling the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands as if that was an indication of the frigid temperature. The old house lacked insulation in most of the rooms, Topper’s being one of them.  

He rolled his eyes, climbing back into bed with you, the momentary worry subsiding. You weren’t his girlfriend but in that moment, as he pulled the blankets around the two of you, guiding you back down to lay with him under the covers, he could have fooled even himself about the relationship. He held his arm out in front of both of you so that you could see his phone and the menu for the pizza place.  

“I’ve been really in the mood for pepperoni.” You mused, not bothering to look at the screen and opting instead to tuck your face into his bare collar. Your hand slipped down from his chest and Topper grabbed your wrist before you could make it to his briefs.  

“Pizza first,” he said, “you’re already getting sleepy.”  

“It’s cause I’m cold.” You insisted.  

He turned to place a kiss on your forehead, “pizza.” He reminded you again.  

-

Halloween weekend creeped up and, before you knew it, Phi Sig was decorated and advertising a Halloween haunted house party for everyone on campus. Geena was going home on the actual night of to trick or treat with her sister but she agreed to go to the party with you that weekend. She loved a good party and any excuse to dress up.  

When you weren’t spending time with Topper, and sometimes when you were because he had a tendency to hang out just to hang out (the friends side of the benefit), you and Geena marathoned episodes of Supernatural. And it was at  her coaxing that your Halloween costume became an homage to the show and your favorite character. A semi-loosely interpreted Dean Winchester, complete with a flannel over your black tank top and the mark of Cain crafted by Geena using her best fx makeup skills. You wore cut-off jean shorts with your hiking boots, showing off the legs that you were usually self-conscious about. Geena was Cas, sticking a little closer to the actual costume though she made a few alterations.  

“I gotta ask…” Fitz said, coming up to the two of you the moment you were in the door, as if he was the greeting committee.  

“I’m Dean Winchester.” You explained, “G’s Cas.”  

“You dressed like a guy for Halloween?” Fitz clarified. “I was hoping for something that showed a little more…” he made a motion with his hands to indicate that the little more he wanted to see were your boobs.  

“I have the obligatory sexy cat costume but that’s…” you looked passed Fitz’s shoulder, eyes landing on Topper down the hall chatting with some friends, a smile instantly lighting up your face, “that’s for his eyes only.”  

Fitz looked behind him, catching sight of his frat brother and rolling his eyes before turning back to you, “yeah well, if Thornton’s not appreciative then you know where to find me.”  

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you laughed, stepping around him. Geena had broken off already, heading for the keg that had been set up in the corner. When you started down the hall Fitz found someone else to antagonise, leaving you to vie for Topper’s attention, not that it took you much. Just walking up had him breaking his concentration to look at you, the smile automatic. “Hey,” you greeted as he hugged you, keeping his arm around your waist as he brought you into the conversation.  

“Hey, you look great.” He praised, offering you some of his beer. Topper’s costume was best described as JFK yachting in Hyannis. He looked like a preppy New England white boy and you suspected it was all clothing he already owned thrown together differently. There was always that slight air of prep to him though college and a growing collection of hoodies were slowly eating away at that.  

“Thanks, I feel a little out of place,” you joked, noting a girl down the hall that was wearing a mock up of Amanda Seyfried’s bunny costume from Mean Girls. “Though I do have a costume change saved for later.”  

“Oh yeah,” that smile was a full blown mischievous grin and you wondered for a split-second how down he would be to ditch the whole party and take you to his room. “Does it involve these clothes on my floor?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You teased.  

You had been stressing over the purchase of a costume that could’ve been more accurately described as lingerie since it arrived at your dorm a week earlier. Did friends with benefits buy lingerie sets specifically for showing off? You weren’t sure where that one fell on the line but you were positive you were crossing into territory that was reserved for girlfriends. But even with those doubts, just the thought of Topper seeing you in something that was just for him to see you in somehow made you unable to pass up the opportunity.  

Topper groaned, pulling you closer to him so that he could press his forehead into your neck, “baby,” his voice sounded almost close to whining and you ran a hand through his hair. He nipped at your exposed collar before lifting his head again to look at you. “How long am I supposed to wait?”  

“One track mind, I’ve said it before…I’ll say it again.” You laughed, trying not to think about the way this felt so much like a relationship, pulling away from him but taking his hand, “come on, I wanna get a drink.”  

He followed you to the makeshift bar set up by the keg, refilling his beer while you ladled a generous helping of jungle juice into your cup, trying to fish as many sour patch kids as you could to add to it. You were drinking mostly to calm the nerves that were bubbling up. Geena would be gone Halloween night and the whole next day because she didn’t have classes and you were thinking of inviting Topper to stay over. Regardless of the hour or the amount of time you spent together afterward, the post-coital bliss always came to an end and one of you always left the other. Even if you got breakfast the next day there was a stretch of time that existed between the night before and the morning after where you were nothing to each other but bodies.  

“So, Geena’s going home on Halloween, I thought maybe you could come over,” you suggested. That part was a given.  

Topper looked almost confused that you were asking, “yeah, figured we’d end up hanging out anyway.” He replied.  

“Well…” you worried your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, “I was thinking, she won’t be back til the next day…like, at night, and I thought, maybe you’d wanna stay over.”  

No. There was a voice in the back of his head, the logical one who knew that crossing the most obvious line, the one where he stayed and you woke up together, was a turning point that he wouldn’t be able to come back from. It was bad enough that he had let this become something that bordered on being a relationship to anyone looking in on it, but letting himself pretend like it was…he wasn’t sure he could come back from that when this all ended.  

“Yeah,” he said, quieting the logical side of his brain, “as long as you wear this ‘something else’ for the duration of my stay.” It might be a bad idea but who was he kidding, he was so far gone he’d accidentally referred to you as his girlfriend when he was on the phone with his mom just the day before.  

That smile returned to your face, the one that was so sly yet excitable at the same time, the perfect juxtaposition of innocence and deviousness, “Well, I was gonna wear nothing but-“  

“Nothing works for me.” Topper replied, using his free hand to hook his fingers through your front belt loop and pulling you toward him so that he could kiss you. Definitely not friends with benefits, but you’d both keep pretending until one of you cracked.  

-

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[zayray030]

Motherfucker

Summary: You know that saying 'Never judge a book by its cover'? Well apply it to what happens in the bedroom and that's the fic. OR people assume the roles of the, ahem, significantly taller people in the relationship. Things get revealed after a certain curse word is uttered

Relationships: Yakulev, Sugakage and Moniwa x Futakuchi

You know the saying, ‘never judge a book by its cover? Well, it applied very well in these situations.

See, when some people had announced their relationship everyone had already thought about the, ahem, arrangements of the relationship. Mostly who tops and who bottoms.

And due to some people being kinda close-minded they had all, in what they had thought, rightfully assumed that the taller people in the relationships were the tall ones. Think again.

The couples knew what everyone thought and they didn't bother correcting them, not wanting to embarrass themselves or the others. The Bottoms thought it was funny at the beginning but they slowly stopped thinking so for 2 reasons.

It had made them that due to their height they couldn't be the one on the receiving end and looked after which had lead to a bunch of cuddling

And two it was because it ended up with them getting railed into next week. After all, the tops were incredibly possessive

One day, however, everyone found out who the actual tops were in the relationship. One thing was for sure, the curse ‘motherfucker’ was from now on prohibited to be said.

~Moniwa x Futakuchi~

“Motherfucker!” yelled Kamasaki in pain, holding his broken pinky in his hand.

“You called?” asked Futakuchi, always the cheeky little delinquent. Too bad it backfired.

Everyone had turned to Moniwa, expecting him to look flustered but instead, he smiled serenely which immediately put Kenji on edge and answered with a sweet tone.

“Now, doll. Don't go spreading around things or you'll get punished k bunny”

It was silent as everyone tried to absorb what was said until Kamasaki doubled in laughter, his laugh sounding closer to a witches cackle in Kenji’s opinion.

“Pffft, ha! So Futakuchi is a subby bottom, eh?” he asked, wiping away tears of mirth from his eyes as he looked Futakuchi up and down as if he was seeing him for the first time.

“S-shut up, Kamasaki-san!” Kenji cursed his stutter but cursed his annoyance of a boyfriend even more. Why did he have to have such a big mouth? Just why?

You know what? No! He wasn't going to blame himself because a totally inaccurate word was said! Absolutely not! If anything, it was Kamasakis fault for saying it in the first place!

Whilst he was cursing away at his senpai he felt an arm wrap around him and he almost jumped a foot up in the air.

“You okay?” whispered Moniwa, concern clear in his voice.

“Yeah. Just annoyed that Kamasaki was the one who ended up revealing it.” answered Kenji, leaning in his boyfriend's arms, feeling content.

“Wanna come over to my place and cuddle? We can even watch your favourite and eat sour gummies.” wheeled Moniwa as if his offer to cuddle hadn't convinced Kenji as it was.

He would have gladly slipped practice to hang out with his boyfriend but Kamasaki had to open his mouth again.

“Yo, so like whilst you two are cute and all, my hand still hurts like a bitch!” Kenji was really amazed at his patience if he hadn't already punched his idiot of a senpai yet.

“Since when did I care?” voiced Kenji and immediately closed his eyes when Kamasaki began bitching at him even as Nametsu began dragging him away. He jumped a little when he felt a hand on his ass and inwardly whimpered when he saw the look in his boyfriend's eyes.

“Whilst I do think it was time for the actual status of our relationship to be revealed,” began Moniwa, voice hushed as everyone else in the team began conversing among themselves. “You being a cheeky brat can't go unpunished sweetheart. Expect punishment, k doll?” and the actual asshole had the nerve to wink before walking away to Sakunami to correct him on his receiving.

‘Guess it wasn't going to be movie night for a long time. This was all Kamasaki’s fault’ thought Kenji as he began to mentally prepare himself for the night to come.

~Sugawara x Kageyama~

“Motherfucker!” yelled Nishinoya as he crumbled to the floor.

“Yeah?” Everyone went quiet, not expecting the raven to respond. However, it seemed that the setter strongly regretted saying what he just said as he stared at his silver-haired boyfriend.

When Suga smiled they all smirked, thinking that he was going to say something along the lines of ‘Nothing for you tonight!’ or ‘Kageyama! Don't be so vulgar’. Absolutely none of that was anywhere near as close as to what was said.

“So that's how you wanna play it, baby? Wanna see how long you can go again? Can't wait to play with your hole again!” Suga then stood up and walked out of the gym, to go to the clubroom and to go collect himself, not even bothering to see what chaos he created on his way out.

It was silent until Tsukishima, of course, broke it.

“So king, what type of things does your boyfriend punish you for? Because I sure as hell want to tell him about the shit you've been doing.” that smirk really made his face punchable.

“Go burn,” Kageyama growled but the effect was ruined by the bright blush on his cheeks.

“I'm not the one going to hell here. But I'm sure if we get you and Sugawara-san some holy water it might be able to save you. Unless you both have a thing for-” he ducked just in time to avoid getting hit with the volleyball as Kageyama stormed out of the gym.

“No fucking in the clubroom!” yelled Nishinoya behind him and they could hear the embarrassed ‘shut up’ from the raven.

‘Great. Now I'm going to have to skip practice and wake up to my body being sore as fuck. This is all Nishinoya's fault!’

~Yaku x Lev~

“Motherfucker!” yelled Yamamoto as Kuroo blocked another one of his spikes.  His team had officially lost the three on three match and coincidentally it had been the same time that practice finished.

“Yeah? You called?” Lev regretted the words before they even came out of his mouth, face paling even more than he had thought possible.

Everyone sniggered, thinking that Lev had paled because Lev was going to kick his ass. And like they weren't wrong, but they weren't exactly right either.

They had all turned to see Yaku in demon-senpai mode but that's not what they saw. No, instead they saw the libero with a vindictive smirk on his face. They were even more shocked when he just swaggered over to Lev and wrapped an arm around his waist, his hand landing in his ass. They all felt their Jaws drop when Yaku spoke.

“So I'm guessing it's going to be 20 lashes, k baby? See you later.” and Yaku had the actual audacity to walk away, especially after slapping Lev’s ass, the sound echoing in the silent gym.

Lev thanked his remaining lucky stars that the coaches weren't in the gym. He already felt the need to die because his teammates knew about his sex life, he didn't need the coaches to know it either.

“So, Lev,” began Kuroo, smirking at the boy that made the rest of Nekoma shiver.

“No. I am not doing this today.” declared Lev, already going to the clubroom. Thankfully, nobody bothered calling him back to clean up. His only blessing. Or so he thought.

“Since we are so kindly allowing you to miss clean up time you can run a whole lap around the gym!” and Kuroo better be grateful that Lev was such a nice human being and that he couldn't punch his upperclassmen because otherwise, Lev would have decked him in the face ages ago.

‘This was all Yamamoto’s fault and his unneeded urge to curse at everything.’ thought Lev as he walked in the clubroom to see his boyfriend smiling evilly, holding his hand out for him to take.

[doubleleoenergy]

III; BLUE BAYOU SERIES

Oh that boy of mine, by my side. The silver moon and the evening tide.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: TFAWS!Sam Wilson x fem!Reader

Summary: Sam and y/n don’t want their first date to end.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY; oral (female receiving), passionate sex, a BIT fo dirty talk (we love to see it Sam)

Word Count: 3529

Author’s Notes: And we finally get a bit of smut! I am thinking of doing a few more parts to this series, flashing forward weeks and months to different aspects of their new relationship.

“Well then, I’ll lead the way.” Sam is still holding onto their hand, stepping onto the sidewalk and walking silently next to each other. It isn’t AWKWARD at all, the silence between them, it feels comfortable just to be next to each other. The night is quiet, a few cars passing here and there, an occasional jogger or couple walking past, but for the most part they were alone.

They walked a few blocks down from the restaurant and Sam tugged y/n to the other side of the street, stopping outside the small family-owned corner store. He turns his attention to y/n’s face, noticing the light splattering of freckles on her cheeks. “What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”

She scrunches her nose, cocking her head to the side. “Chocolate chip cookie dough, DEFINITELY.” Sam slips his hand out of hers, opening the door of the store, soliciting a ring from the bell overhead. “Perfect, I’ll be right back.”

Once inside the small store he heads straight for the freezers against the wall, eyes scanning until he finds a pint of Ben & Jerry’s in the flavor of her choice, grabbing it along with two plastic spoons by the slurpee machine. He walks to the front, greeting the young man behind the counter with a smile and purchasing the ice cream.

Walking back outside, Sam holds the bag with the items up to show y/n, moving to grab her hand again INSTINCTIVELY. “Now that we’ve got dessert, I know a great spot to sit.” 

They continue to walk down the sidewalk, street lamps illuminating the walkway by the dock ahead. Sam used to come down here with his high school buddies after a night out downtown. They’d always stop at the same corner store he had to grab their late night MUNCHIES before sitting on the docks for hours, talking about anything and everything. He felt his most free on the docks by the water.

The dock CREAKS slightly under their feet as they walk, heading to the familiar wooden benches near the end. Sam motions for y/n to sit, moving beside her and opening the plastic bag, pulling out the pint and spoons and tucking the bag into his jacket pocket to keep it from blowing away. He opens the pint and sets the lid next him, holding out the spoons.

“You really know the way to my HEART.” Y/N takes one of the spoons from his hand, swirling her spoon into the container until she pulls up a spoonful of the creamy delight. She opens her mouth, letting the flavors melt onto her taste buds, smiling at the comforting flavor. Ben and Jerry’s had gotten her through a LOT of trauma and heartbreak in her life. The wind picks up once more, sending shivers down y/n’s spine, Sam taking notice and immediately peeling off his jacket.

“Here, take this.” Before she can protest he’s draping it over her shoulders, the size of his jacket making her look even more PETITE. “I usually run pretty hot, and I’m used to the nights here.”

She silently thanks him, watching him indulge in the ice cream as well. “Well, I guess I should know better since I lived in Colorado, but I don’t go out much at NIGHT.” Her eyes move back to the ice cream, twisting her spoon into the pint again. “You know, Sarah said she’s so happy to have you back in town, and I can tell the boys are too. You’re really good with them.”

Sam nods, taking another spoonful of ice cream. “Yeah, I’m happy too. It’s IMPORTANT that the boys have a man around. Sarah has been handling this all unbelievably since her husband passed, but I know there are things that the boys need to know that Sarah shouldn’t have to teach them. For instance, how to fix things around the house so Sarah doesn’t have to do EVERYTHING, and of course the whole ‘birds and the bees’ scenario.” That was one really awkward night for the three of them. All of it is a blessing though, he LOVES being back with his family, although he misses his mom and dad a lot more now that he’s home permanently. He hopes they’re proud of him and everything he and Sarah have accomplished, they were before but now things were DIFFERENT.

Speaking of accomplishments, not once has he mentioned the whole Captain America thing, and he figures now’s as good a time as any. He clears his throat, eyes looking up to meet y/n’s again. “Y/N, there’s something I need to tell you…” She laughs softly, reaching a hand out to touch his leg comfortingly.

“Sam, I KNOW you’re Captain America.”

His face contorts with multiple emotions, finally settling on confusion. “Wait, you do?”

Her hand squeezes his thigh, not taking her eyes off of him. “Of course, I mean you’re all over the news and everyone in town talks about you being here. Also, Sarah literally has a picture of you in the suit in her living room.” As if she HADN’T known, it was literally everything anyone was talking about the past few months, even back in Colorado. Now that she lives in the same town as him, her students mention it all the time in her class, talking about run-ins with Sam at the grocery store or visiting the family business just to meet him.

“And you’re not...weirded out?” She’s the only person he’s met since becoming Captain America that didn’t treat him like he was a superhero, like he was UNTOUCHABLE. She was here, sitting on a bench, treating him as Sam Wilson. “Why didn’t you mention that you knew I was Captain America sooner?”

“I can’t say I’ve had my fair share of dates with superheroes, but no, I’m not weirded out. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’ve been told I’m great at listening. And also at keeping secrets.” She had no reason to tell things that others confided in her in private, her father had always taught her the importance of others' secrets staying SECRET. “Why would I mention it? You’re not JUST Captain America, you’re much more than that. You’re Sam Wilson, and that’s the guy who asked me out yesterday, and the guy I’ve been talking to all night. He’s the guy I wanted to get to know. Not that I don’t want to know Captain America but that’s just not ALL of you.”

Sam grins from ear to ear, a deep chuckle escaping at her words. He liked that he could trust her, of course he wasn’t allowed to tell her CLASSIFIED information, but he could tell her some of his life, the parts he had only shared with Sarah up until now. And even then, some of the darker parts he didn’t want to burden his sister with. 

His eyes are hyperfocusing on her now, the light of one of the street lamps giving him an even closer look at her features. Her eyes, he notices, have flecks of GOLD within the irises that are more apparent now. Her perfume is wafting from her soft skin again, and he watches as she takes another bit of ice cream, plump lips parting and tongue swirling over the spoon. She looks INTOXICATING, like the personification of the first flowers in spring, or the feeling when your skin first soaks in the rays of sunshine on a summer day.

Before he can even think Sam’s hand moves out to cup her chin, tilting her head and leaning in, lips pressing against hers. Y/N is surprised, but doesn’t break the kiss, instead moving her hand to the back of his neck. She can TASTE the ice cream on his lips, and can feel how perfectly they mold against her own. They hold the kiss for a moment before y/n moves back, a wispy breath leaving her lips.

“Sorry if that was...well, uh, that was my first kiss in….well a LONG time.” Sam states, but y/n tries to reassure him by placing her hand back in his. “No, it was fine. That was my first kiss in a while too but...I liked it.”

She’s been so caught up that she hadn’t realized how dark it had gotten, her free hand running through her tousled curls. “It’s getting darker and this dress is not best for the cold.” She also realized how stupid it had been to not drive her car, but she wasn’t sure how late she’d be out and she only lived a few stop lights down from the restaurant. “My apartment is close, I actually walked to the restaurant since it was such a nice night, would you mind driving me back to my place?”

Sam nods, standing up to throw the ice cream and spoons in a nearby trash can, moving back to her to re-grip her hand. “Of course, let’s get back before the wind flowing off the water starts to drop in temperature again.”

Y/N’s heart is beating loudly in her chest when they pull up to the apartment complex. It really was only a five minute drive from the restaurant, double that on foot. They had made small talk along the walk back to his truck and the ride, learning little interests the other had, y/n sharing her favorite things to bake and Sam listing off a few of his favorite Marvin Gaye songs.

“Let me walk you up.” Sam insists, opening the door to the truck for her and helping her hop down. He really was different from any man she’d been out with before. Most of the time they just offered to call her an UBER rather than driving her anywhere.

Y/N and Sam walk up the two flights of stairs to her apartment door, and y/n finally finds the keys in her purse and opens the front door. “Do you want to come in?” Her voice is innocent, turning back around to face him.

“Uh-yeah, sure.” It’s not like he had anything else planned that night. He steps inside as y/n flicks on a few lights on the wall, taking in the look of her apartment. It’s small, a one bedroom with a balcony overlooking the parking lot below. She has a large navy blue couch with a coffee table in the living room, along with a TV on a stand across from it. Upon further inspection there is no kitchen table, instead three cream-colored stools sitting along an extended countertop. There’s a few house plants on a shelf above the kitchen sink, and everything is very NEATLY in its place.

“You keep it clean like this all the time?” He asks, watching as y/n moves to brew them each a cup of coffee in her Keurig. 

“Oh, I obsessively clean. I can’t stand it when things aren’t in their place.” She had ALSO gotten that from her father, but she doesn’t mention it aloud. After the cups of coffee are brewed, she puts an average amount of sugar and cream in before y/n hands Sam one of the mugs of coffee. She grabs her own mug and takes a sip, leaning against the counter.

“You know, I really had a great time. I know it’s probably not normal to say this but I feel like I’m just…” He trails off, not wanting to sound corny. Screw it. “I’m DRAWN to you, y/n. I haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time.” He sets his mug down on the counter, staring at us as the liquid swirls around. 

Y/N chews softly on her bottom lip, fingers gripping the edge of her mug, taking another large gulp. She’s trying to figure out the right words to respond without looking like a total FOOL. The liquid from the coffee is warming her from the inside out, and she’s thankful to be out of the wind and having this discussion in the comforts of her apartment. A bit of a home-court advantage.

“No, that’s not weird. I agree, I mean...I LIKE you too, if that’s what you meant.” He’s finished about half of his coffee when she finally relays her feelings about him, a smile spreading on his lips. How did someone like her find HIM?

He looks at the clock on the stove, realizing it was already one in the morning. Had they really been out for that long? It didn’t FEEL like it. Sam clears his throat, moving to set his cup in the sink beside her. “I should probably go.” He’s about to grab his jacket that y/n had set on one of the stools but he stops and turns when he feels y/n’s hand grab the back of his arm.

“Sam…” She’s looking between his lips and his eyes before she leans up on her TIPPY toes to kiss him again. Sam doesn’t hesitate, wrapping one arm around her waist, letting his other hand move up so he can cup her face.

The kiss is more passionate this time than their first one on the dock, and she moves her hands to wrap around the back of his neck. Their bodies mold against each other, and she can FEEL the heat radiating from him.

They hold this position for a moment before she pulls away from the kiss, breathless, fingers rubbing the back of his neck. “Sam...stay.” 

He doesn’t answer, instead crashing his lips back against hers more fervently this time. His fingers move down the small of her back, caressing her ass, eliciting a moan from her lips. Not only has it been so long since he’d even KISSED a woman, but it’s been even longer since he’s done anything else like this. But it felt so good.

Sam doesn’t waste any time, the hands on her ass pulling her up off her feet as she instinctively wraps her legs around his waist. He’s so much larger than her, and she is probably clinging to him like a koala to a tree, but she honestly doesn’t CARE.

Her lips part to let his tongue inside, and he can now taste the rich coffee flavor on his taste buds. He moves them slowly down the hallway, breaking the kiss so he can find the door to her room without tripping and falling. As he pushes the door open y/n’s lips move from his cheek to just below his ear, peppering wet kisses down along his neck and OCCASIONALLY sucking at the supple skin. The action on his skin elicits a groan from his lips, dropping her carefully onto her bed before moving over top of her.

Sam places another rushed kiss to her lips, moving his lips to her neck and across her collarbone, his hands running up and down the sides of her silky dress.

“Sam please…” Her breathing is shaky, feeling her core becoming wet from his actions. She can feel his cock through his jeans that are pressed against her, and she moves her hand down to the outline, rubbing her hand along it. He feels THICK, and she wonders what he’ll look like with his clothes off.

Another moan falls from his mouth when she touches him, instinctively bucking his hips into hers. “Please what?” He teases, nibbling gently at the skin on her shoulder. He wants her so bad, but the dominant side of him is screaming to be set free after YEARS of being locked up.

She rubs her hand harder against him, fingers working at pulling his belt open. “Please, I need your touch, your lips. I need YOU.”

He’s happy to hear her response, moving his weight off of her so that he can pull at the straps of her slip dress, y/n rolling her body up to help him pull it completely down. She’s left in a nude strapless bra and a matching seamless thong, Sam taking in the sight below him. Her body is absolutely as BREATHTAKING as her face was under the street lights.

“You’re gorgeous.” Hands roam along her soft skin, moving behind her back to unhook her bra, pulling it off and tossing it aside to reveal two perky breasts beneath. He leans forward to take a pink nipple into his mouth, a slew of curse words leaving y/n’s mouth. It feels so GOOD.

He keeps his attention on her breasts for a few minutes before he lifts off of her, pulling his shirt off and tossing it to the hardwood floor. Y/N sits up on her elbows, licking her lips as she takes in his extremely chiseled form.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Her hands roam along his chest, moving up to his muscular arms. He was DEFINITELY Captain America fit. Sam chuckles darkly, slinking his body down further, hands tugging off her panties. He can smell her wetness against the fabric, eyes filled with lust as he meets her gaze.

“I’ve GOT to taste you.” Eyes turn back to her pussy, noticing how clean kept it was. He moves forward, tongue gently lapping at her outer folds, soliciting a moan from her lips. Her thighs jerk and try to close around his head but he takes his hands and pushes her legs back down. “Don’t move, let me make you feel good.” He turns his attention back to her core, licking more passionately against her. He lets his tongue pass in and out of her pussy, holding her legs still so y/n cannot buck down for more. And she doesn’t NEED to, he’s already providing a good speed.

Y/n’s hands are staying busy by tugging the comforter beside her head, arching her back. Her moans are encouraging Sam to pick up speed, adding two fingers in gradually. He’s fucking her with his fingers, tongue licking at that perfect bundle of nerves and scratching every ITCH in her body.

“Sam I’m gonna…” She’s cut off by her orgasm ripping through her body, Sam holding her steady and fingers fucking her through it. She’s shaking by the time he pulls his fingers out, moving them up to her lips. “You’ve gotta taste yourself, that pussy is so sweet.”

She opens her mouth and sucks on his fingers before he pulls them out with a wet POP. “Sam, get those pants off, please. Want you inside me…now.” She’s honestly surprised herself by how much she wants him, but it just felt RIGHT. 

Sam wastes no time, moving up off the bed to kick off his shoes, socks, and jeans. His fingers move under the band of his grey boxers before he tugs them to the floor, standing at the edge of her bed completely naked.

He’s like Zeus, a God amongst a world of mortals. Her eyes trailed down to take in his cock now that it was free from its clothed prison, and she gasps. It’s definitely long but also THICK. Her pussy tightens at the thought of having him inside her.

Sam can see the way she looks a bit nervous at his size, moving over her once again and caressing her face with one hand, the other holding onto his cock. “Y/N it’s okay…gonna make you feel so good…you’re gonna make ME feel so good too…” His cock pressed against her folds, eyes meeting hers. “Relax, baby.”

The pet name makes her heart melt, she wanted to be his and only his. He moves slowly, cock aligning between her folds, opening her up and pushing in inch by inch until he bottoms out inside her, holding himself in place to let her adjust. Sam’s lips are on hers, kissing her through his motions before he pulls off her mouth.

“Sam, move please.” He does as she asks, moving in and out of her slowly at first before her moans are sparking a HUNGER inside of him, increasing his speed before he’s slamming into her over and over. 

Her pussy feels like what he assumes heaven would be like, her legs imitating the pearly gates that open up for him when he arrives. “Fuck, y/n, I need to pull out.” She pulls Sam in for a rough kiss, breathing heavily. “I’m on the pill, it’s fine, want you to cum in my pussy, want to be leaking you all day.”

Once she’s said that he can’t hold on, cutting her off with another kiss as he moans, hot spurts of cum filling up her pussy. Her walls tighten and she hits her second orgasm, her soft cries mixed against his lips on hers. 

Sam finally moves off of her once he’s not too sensitive, laying down on his back next to her, instinctively pulling her into his chest. They lie there in SILENCE, the only sounds in the room are their breathing.

“That was…” She trails off, fingers running absentmindedly up and down his chest. “Incredible.” He finishes, his own fingers moving to rub her back. His eyes close, letting the room fall silent again. “Does this mean there’ll be a second date?” 

She lets out a breathy laugh, closing her own eyes. “This means you’re mine and I’m yours, but we can definitely go on another date.”

[iamnightduchess]

Dangerous Woman (R18+)

Rating: Mature (AO3)

Pairing: Reiner x Mikasa (ReiKasa) ft. tiny Armin x Annie (AruAni).

AU: Love Like This

Trope: One-night stand (?)

Summary: Something about him makes her feel like a dangerous woman. Making her do things she won’t normally do.

She’s a married woman and she sure as hell shouldn’t be out here at a bar, planning to wine and dance the night away all by herself. She isn’t supposed to be flirting with a random stranger whose name she’d never bothered to ask. She’s most absolutely not supposed to be grinding bodies with this handsome enigma and allowing him to take her dancing all the way back to his hotel room. ReinerxMikasa ft. ArminxAnnie. Modern AU.

A/N: Inspired by this post & this post.

Rhythmic Muse: Dangerous Woman (Cover) by Travis Garland.

Content Warning: Adult undertones. Dubcon (somewhat). Rough, unprotected sex. (I do not condone this. Please practice safe intercourse in real life, everyone and only with people you trust, please!). Expect some OOC-ness because this is a self-indulging Modern AU fic. Happy reading!

----

The smooth tunes of the Spanish guitar blasting from the seaside cafe’s stereo speakers and the sounds from the crushing waves of the ocean serenaded her weary senses, soothing her jaded body after a long day at work. She’s been busting her ass more than usual, covering more graveyard shifts than she could humanly manage in her years of field experience.  The salty seaside breeze wafted through her senses, mixed with the smell of grilled seafood and freshly-made martinis from the nearby bar, reminding her that her work vacation had been long overdue.

God, that trip to the Mediterraneans sounded much more tempting than before. Just lazing at the beach, soaking up the sun, reading a book or two and maybe toss in some kinky actions with a hot hunk somewhere along the way. But alas, they only managed to get away to a seaside resort just slightly out of town for the weekend.

A low, murmured whisper coming from her opposite direction turned into an uncontrollable cackle and she leered at her flaxen-haired companion, who’s now already tongue-deep inside her date’s mouth.

“Gross.” The raven-haired woman rolled her eyes, yet not without a small smile on her face.

“Don’t be jealous, Mikasa,” chided Annie as she broke her kiss with Armin, causing the latter to blush and stared back at his childhood friend sheepishly. “Just because your husband’s not here, doesn’t mean I can’t make out with mine.”

Armin sent a cautionary look at his wife and sighed. “Annie, we’re not supposed to remind her of him tonight. Sorry, Mikasa.”

The small smile turned into a tight frown as she continued to nurse the drink in her hand. She rolled mindlessly at the double olives on that tiny skewer inside her glass. “It’s fine, Armin. Annie’s right, you two are supposed to have fun. Don’t let me hold you both back. It’s your first night away from the girls after half a year, right? Go wild. But, not too wild ok?” She signaled to the other woman’s slightly protruding belly.

The upcoming fourth addition to the five member brood of the Arlert family.

Armin sent her a concerned look. He didn’t miss the way Mikasa had been restlessly fiddling with the wedding ring on her finger ever since she reached their planned venue of the evening from work. He and Mikasa have always been tighter than two halves of a whole since they were both in grade school. 

He’d know when she’s in distress. That doesn't require his professional skills in psychology to read the other woman's body language and facial expression.

“Did he wish you an anniversary greeting this morning?,” asked the blonde-haired academician.

She shook her head, her glazed eyes cast downwards as she took a sip from her dry martini. “Not yet, at least. I did slip something into his luggage before his flight out last week. Maybe he’s just busy.”

Annie slammed her own glass of fruit juice on the lounge table and declared out loud, “I’ll kick his ass for you tomorrow. If he ever gets here.”

“Thank you for the offer, Annie but I still got this under control and please don’t. You’re pregnant.”

Annie scoffed in return, expressing her distaste at said man’s nonchalant attitude. “Well, at the very least he should have given you a hall pass if he’s going to be ditching you here on your own. Give you the freedom to make up for his shortcomings. It’s your anniversary for crying out loud,” remarked the expecting mother before continuing to offer her unwarranted opinions. “I don’t know how you could go through all this for more than ten years? Sure, Armin and I have been married for fourteen years, together for sixteen and I can’t ever imagine being away from him for too long.”

Armin’s gaze hardened, he looked back at his wife’s rather harsh words in concealed disagreement, but he also knew that his long-time friend's married life was also none of their business. “I’m very sure he has a very good reason. Which has something to do with his work.”

Annie let out a long drawl of sigh. “Still doesn’t give him a reason to be a dick to her.”

Armin’s jaw dropped down in disbelief. “Annie!”

Mikasa waved away Armin’s chastising of his own wife. “It’s the hormones. This is not your first rodeo, Armin.”

He shrugged, “But this time, she’s much more brutal than usual, Mika.”

“After three girls, maybe this is finally a boy. Who knows?”

Armin beamed at the possibility, catching his wife’s eyes in a soft, appreciating gaze. “That would be nice, but even if this one’s another girl, it’s still not an issue to me. I love all my girls regardless.” Annie snuck a quick peck on the tip of her husband’s adorable button nose and nuzzled against his cheek softly, whispering, “I love you.”

Mikasa held the other couple in an admiring gaze. They are rock solid, there’s no doubt there. Also, by the way Annie’s hands had been slinking into the folds of the younger man’s casual dress shirt, rubbing slowly against her husband’s skin, Mikasa knew that Annie’s hormonal condition also came with other perks, which Armin clearly appreciates very, very much.

She shook her head and chided the pair teasingly, “Just head on back to your room, guys. Don’t remind me what I’m missing.”

Armin turned his head back at her, reluctance persisted against his own conscience. “We’re not going to leave you here on your own.”

“I’ll be fine. I just want to get another drink then I’ll be calling it a night.” She lifted the triangle-shaped glass in her hands and gestured for the couple to make their way back first.

It was Annie yet again, who made her concerns very vocal for the umpteenth time. “You know, if you’re gonna be dicking with one of these attractive men available around here tonight, we’re not gonna tell him. Scout’s honor.” She just had to end her sentence with a sly wink and a two finger salute.

Yep, someone’s super horny right now.

She raised an eyebrow with a mock disappointment on her face. “Just get the hell out of here. Armin, fill her mouth good.”

“Mikasa…” Armin shook his head in embarrassment at the crudeness of her sentence. He could still never get used to the savage side of his best friend, who’s more of a sister to him than anything else in this world. “Stay safe and just call me if you need anything at all.”

“Thanks. Now go on.” God bless Armin’s kind soul but it was bold of him to think that she’d be calling him when he’s already in way too deep inside his wife. Even IF she’d really ever needed someone’s assistance. Regardless, she waited patiently until the silhouette of the pair disappeared beyond the canopy walk heading towards the guest rooms’ direction. Only then she lifted herself off the lounge seat, clutch in one hand and fixed the hem of her skirt and her hair, already messed up from the strong breeze in the other. Eventually making her way towards the bar. With the manner she strode across the dining area, her heels clattered against the wooden floor, she willfully disregarded all the stares thrown her way - appreciating or lewd - from quite a number of the male patrons of the establishment. Deliberately, she dabbled lightly at the thin gold chain around her neck. Putting her wedding band on obvious display and on purpose.

Mikasa sighed in relief, silently to herself the moment the message was duly received by the interested parties. The last thing she needed was to be in a complicated entanglement. She continued walking towards the bar, nodding at the chirpy bartender who bid her good evening and asked for her latest choice of poison for the night. She took her seat on the high bar stool, crossing her long legs comfortably and decided on another appletini. While waiting for her drink, she rested her face on her hand and tapped her fingers lightly against her cheek to the smooth R&B rhythm, staring fondly at the sight of a beautiful young couple slow-dancing not too far from the live DJ booth.

The moment a nostalgic tune she had once heard from an amazing night in Hizuru’s Havana Club years ago began to play - the intro to the Spanish dancehall genre blasted through the speakers - her body couldn’t help but move slightly to the sleek music.

This was their song. It was playing on one of the first few dates they had with each other. She’s even wearing the same red dress that she wore on that date eons ago. Back when they were younger. Back when promises were made to never be apart even for a day.

After eleven years of being married together….well, who’s counting anyway?

Unbeknownst to her, a set of dark amber eyes had been lingering appreciatively at the way she tapped her heels and the manner which her body grooved slightly to the playing tune.

----

The moment she’d walked across the distance between the patio lounge and the bar, she’d caught his attention from the get go.

Everything about this woman reminded him of Edwyn Collins’s crooning of his timeless serenade, A Girl Like You. She’s absolutely making him acknowledge the devil in him without an ounce of doubt.

His eyes glazed at the way her short dark tresses wavered in the evening draft and the way her off-shoulder red dress hugged her body tightly. The sheer fabric outlined the lithe curves of her waist, its edges danced around the long legs that seemed to be endless with every motion, beckoning his admiring gaze even further. She took her seat on the high bar stool, legs crossed and the edges of the dress hitched upwards, exposing the sight of her smooth thighs. Porcelain. Perfection.

It seems that he’s not the only person sending interested looks her way as he spotted several other men staring in awe at this breathtaking lady in red, without so much as a blink.

He exhaled a breath, much deeper than before.

He eyed the dark gold pumps on her feet that matched the delicate gold chain on her slender neck and the gold wedding ring on her finger. It also didn’t escape his observation on the beginnings of a rather intricate ink, emerging from the lace fringe on the back of her silky dress.

He wants to study the story behind it from the top down to where it might end if she’d be keen to share it.

He’s itching to know how much skin the ink covers.

He took in another long, deep breath, fixing the crisp collar of his suit. A hand smoothed his hair back in one fluid motion and finally, made his move towards the bar.

He’s going in for the kill. A wedding band had never stopped him before.

Several steps away from the bar and he’d already caught the fragrant scent of something succulent and delicious in the air coming from her direction.

Her perfume. 

Juicy. He found himself licking his dry lips in response towards the prospect of savoring the taste of figurative sweet cherries on luscious porcelain skin.

As it were, she could feel the prickle of piercing eyes on her back. She then turned her head around and their eyes met from across this crowded space.

Her eyes, a curious granite hue, reflected a hunger that has not been fulfilled for quite some time.

It’s a rather perfect coincidence that he’d been ravenous for the similar thing as well.

He wandered over to the empty seat next to her. “Good evening. Can I buy another drink for you?”

She pretended that she didn’t hear him at first, yet began to cave in after realizing that she was just too polite to turn down a stranger’s offer. “Thank you but I can buy my own.”

A knowing grin graced his lips. He knows an elegant woman with a refined taste when he sees one. “I can see that you’re waiting for someone. Can I, at least, keep you company for the time being?”

She gestured to the vacant bar stool next to hers with a short tilt of her head. “Help yourself.”

He asked for a serving of whiskey on the rocks from the gentleman on the other side of the tropical themed bar. Certainly didn’t miss the way her chest hiked the moment she took in the smell of his cologne and he also didn’t miss the way she ran a thumb against the small jewelry on her finger at the same time she took a sip of her martini. Like she was reminding herself of a line she’s not supposed to step over.

Instead of taking over the offered seat, however, he turned his body around and reclined against the side of the wooden bar’s curved edges. He’d caught her staring at the outline of his pecs between the already undone buttons of his shirt. “Can I take a guess?”, he eased his way into another opening for small talk, “A husband who’s running late or almost letting you know that he’s not going to make it?”

Bullseye. He could feel her glaring at him from the corners of her eyes. “Aren’t you the expert on lonely women?”

A deep chuckle escaped his lips shamelessly. “Well, if you were my wife, you’d never find yourself waiting all on your own or getting stood up for that matter.”

The large hoop earrings dangled against the side of her neck when she turned her head sharply towards the devilishly handsome but certainly up-to-no-good face. “Does that line work with all the married women you’re trying to seduce?”

His sturdy, well-trained shoulders shrugged incredulously. “Only those that match the very specific types: cold, mysterious, killer legs and silent ones that are forbidden to touch.”

“Hmmm….” She shook her head at his rather brave yet stupid audacity of assuming she’s just like the other women he had successfully added to the notch under his belt. She’d wished he’d just take a hike and let her finish her drink alone.

“How about this, one dance and I’ll leave you to your lonesome for the rest of the night?”

One dance. It wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it?

She should’ve said no. But she didn’t.

The second he pressed her snug against his own well-honed body on the dancefloor, she could feel her own conscience gradually diminishing through every grip of this man's fingers against her waist. His muscular arms ensnared her in a vice hold before he turned her around again and again to the fast tempo of the music. Their touch electric, their bodies coordinated flawlessly to the sensual rhythm and lips almost brushing dangerously against each other.

He twirled her around and let her back rest against his chest. His voice was a low, deep growl - reminiscent of a sly devil, whispering nefarious sins into her ear. "You are a very interesting woman.

"I know what you're trying to do."

"Let's not beat around the bush then."

She shook her head incredulously, lifting the hand with her wedding band right in this stranger's face. "I'm still married."

A dark chuckle escaped his lips,  the thrumming of his chest reverberated against her bare back. "I'm still interested."

She pushed herself forward ahead of him. "I need to go." Only to have her hand ensnared in his again.

The blonde enigmatic stranger lowered his head, his warm breath mixed with his sharp clean scent assaulted her senses. A contradiction to the sudden shift in his voice to a firm, authoritative tone instead. "Your husband is holding extremely confidential information that could jeopardize national security. I'd strongly suggest that you remain compliant until we can get to a more secure and private place to talk."

"You can't force me to go anywhere with you. I don't even know you!"

"I can assure you, making a scene is only going to make things more complicated, Ms. Ackerman."

Her eyes widened in shock. "How did you know my name?"

"You're a person of interest. I have all the intel on you." His dark, cryptic eyes held her gaze in a subtle warning. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

"Fine."

----

As soon as he closed the door to his room, the stranger pressed her body hard against the wooden surface, wasting no time in taking over her body’s will through the pull of his hands. He began to pat her body down with a force so strong she could feel the pervasive grip of his muscle against her skin.

She tried to push his hands away, almost gasping in shock upon his sudden action. "What are you doing?!"

He lifted a finger against his lips, demanding her absolute silence. "Searching for any hazardous items you might be hiding underneath your dress."

She scoffed. "As if."

An arm held her shoulder down while his other hand pressed at the curve of her hips, pushing her ass hard against the door of his room. He lifted one of her long legs and let it wrap around the side of his broad torso.

He palmed the lower front of her dress, caressing the shape of her hidden mound and his lips curved upwards in a wicked grin. "Found it." The same hand hitched her dress upwards and slipped through the layers of fabric until it reached its intended destination. "This, I believe requires a more thorough search."

He dropped down to the floor yet not without holding her leg in place so it now rested firmly on his toned shoulder.

The pointy end of her heels grated tantalizingly against his back as he marveled at the leverage he had taken from her, along with her resistance. Mikasa looked down in horror as the top of his blonde head disappeared underneath the wavy ends of her crimson dress, a gust of warm breath against her barely-covered mound. The only thing that she could register on her brain next was something wet and boiling hot brushing against the flimsy fabric of her lacy thong, just before the muscle of his tongue slid across her cunt in one long, torturous lick.

She could only moan involuntarily, her breath coming out in pants with every daring lick of this mysterious man's tongue against her already dripping core. Oh God, it’s been too long. “More….” She whimpered softly, yet her voice though, was a contradicting guttural sound, even foreign to her own self as she urged him to pay more attention to that little bundle of nerves hidden somewhere in between her folds. But that asshole wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. 

His powerful hands gripped her waist in an unyielding hold, pulling her with him before pushing her body back on all fours onto the springy mattress. She bit her lower lips in anticipation, her watchful gaze lingered on the way the stranger's lips savored the taste of her with his tongue.

He pulled on the edges of her dress downwards, leaving her in only her brassiere, her thong and her pumps. A tiny shiver tingled across her spine as the cold air from the air conditioned room hit her bare skin. He grabbed hard at the firm shape of her ass, only covered by a measly thin string and eventually tore the flimsy underwear away.

"Beautiful." His tone appreciative, followed by a low growl. "So much more beautiful in person. Your husband is a very lucky man indeed, Ms. Ackerman. Or should I call you Mrs. Braun instead?"

Her breath labored heavily in her arousal, induced by this man's words. "No-- we can't--" Her body heaved as she felt this man's long digits prodding through her drenched slit without warning. Her traitorous lips let out a slow whimper, grunting in regret at her own body's betrayal.

It wasn't supposed to enjoy another man's intrusive touch. But it's too late. The intense animal magnetism of this man was just too much for her body to resist. Certainly not when its needs haven't been satiated for quite some time now.

She heard the rustling of coat and dress shirt, followed by the unmistakable sound of a zipper coming undone from behind. "Wait--we can't--"

"You're my captive for tonight, Mrs. Braun. You won't be getting any rest until my questions have been answered and our bodies have been mutually satisfied."

She felt his hand undoing the clasp of her brassiere and she watched helplessly as the undergarment was ripped apart, landing against the carpeted floor of the luxury hotel room. "What answers?"

"For starters, tell me how hard do you like to be fucked?"

Her head turned sharply, her body struggling to wrestle control against the iron grip on her nape and her waist. "HOW ABOUT NO?"

"Are you sure?" She could feel his fingers toying with the sacred bundle of nerves within her folds and the blazing hot tip of his manhood already teasing at her slick entrance.

"God…." She moaned in agony. The sloshing sounds made by her own treacherous body couldn't make her sinful desires even more obvious than it already was. "Wait--we can't--" Don't do it, Mikasa. "Please…" Oh, heavens... Her voice cracked, her words turned into a series of low, incoherent grunts and mewls.

She muttered another low whimper, cursing when she felt the unwarranted sting on her skin following the sound of a loud smack from this smug asshole's palm hitting her ass.

Without yet another warning, the piercing tip of his member penetrated through her slit as he rammed into her viciously; she could truly taste him pervading her walls, its head hitting her crux with a painful yet thrilling contact. Her shock manifested in the way her lips trembled and her knees buckled against the soft egyptian cotton sheets. A long drawl of whimper escaped her scarlet sunrise-painted lips when he filled her so deliciously.

“Can your husband make you scream like I do?” He whispered those vile words into her ear when their hips pounded against each other once more upon impact. This sinful stranger imposed on her a choice she’d never make as a decent woman, wife and mother. The second he thrusted his whole length and girth raw into the tight passage deep inside her with no abandonment, she’d eventually admitted that her conscience had been long gone the moment they first laid their eyes on the other in the crowded bar.

She felt a hand seizing her chin from behind, tilting upwards and forcing her long neck to stretch further than she usually could. Their bodies fusing, this man rested his whole weight on her, pressing her flat against the mattress. It sprung from their combined weight. This man's mystifying gaze punctured through her conflicted soul - he was a metaphorical devil. Claiming not only her unjust body, but also her reluctant soul. Even more so when he brushed his thin full lips against her trembling ones. Their teeths chattered, their tongues wrestled for dominion of the other's will.

He snickered through the kiss, his chest vibrated against her back. She could even feel his member vibrating deep within her wet, hot canals. "What would Mr. Braun say if he sees you this way, hmm?"

Fucker. He stretched her thin and she cursed herself -- her body kept pulling him in. This man commandeered full authority over her body through every twist of his hips and every angle of his thrusting. Harder and faster. Faster and harder. Yet her mouth kept screaming a feigned resistance. As if the pure, innocent part of her was justifying the pleasure she was receiving along with her impending, forced shame.

Something about his recklessness and guts made the wicked person inside her want to break free. She was a good wife but this man is pushing her to the edge, tipping her scale from good to super bad really quickly. If these walls had eyes, they would patronize her for being so unabashedly wanton with another man’s dick deep inside her, filling her up, stretching herself tight using his substantial size with every thrust, wet glides and titillating tractions.

This man kept on thrusting mercilessly, his hips pounded hard against her ass again and again from behind until their inevitable gratification of merciful release, eventually setting her free.

He growled loudly for one last time when he unloaded his release deep inside her tight passage. Almost frozen, barely able to move as their bodies crashed flat against the springy bed, stacked on top of the other. 

"Break." She mumbled against the sheet, still gasping - almost choking- for the air that she had lost.

"Agreed." He nuzzled against the back of her nape, inhaling in her sweet fragrance and the unavoidable scent of their aftermath. "Fuck, I miss you so much, baby." He snuck a kiss on her cheek as he pulled himself out of her, staring at his already flaccid member, secretly commending it for an exceptional performance even when he's almost approaching the big 4 Oh.

Mikasa turned herself slightly and rested her hand against the sinewy hardness of his thigh, showering it with gentle and loving caress. "Welcome home." God, he still amazes her even after twelve years together.

"Come here." He pulled her body closer to his so they both rested against the headboard of the bed, with his arms around her. "I've never stopped thinking about you when I was away."

"I wasn't doing any better." She cupped his jaw, smiling at the thick growing beard she found there. "You haven't been shaving."

He wiggled his eyebrows cunningly. "I think it adds more character don't you think?"

A sudden realization caused her body to spring up and asked, "What time is it?"

He leered at the watch on his wrist. "Eleven. Why?"

"I was supposed to take the pill two hours ago, Reiner."

"It's fine. I forgot to pack a box too. Miraé found the one at home and she thought it was a really special balloon we've been hiding. Thanks to her, I think the one we have might have expired anyway."

A grin formed on her lips. "That girl. I told her so many times not to snoop around our dressing table." She looked back at him hesitantly before confiding, “Reiner, I’ve actually been forgetting to take the pill for a week now. What if we--”

“Then it’ll be a nice surprise don’t you think? I kind of missed seeing you pregnant again.” His large hand rested on the curves of her sculpted abdomen. He remembered very vividly how breathtaking she had been, even more beautiful when her body was swelling with not one but two babies from nine years ago. The pregnancy had been harder for him due to his Couvade Syndrome for two full trimesters but he’d do it all over again.

She traced the inks on the left side of her husband’s torso : the kanji of their twin’s names - Masaru and Miraé.  “I thought we’re done having babies?”

“I’ve held our home front with the double trouble and I love every single second of it. Another baby’s not gonna be a new challenge but it’s really up to you, dearheart. You know I’d carry the baby if I could.” He rested his palm over the hand on his torso. “Another ink would be nice. Or two? Rémy's been asking if he can have his own baby brother, I quote, and or sister since Armin and Annie's having another new cousin for them.”

Mikasa swallowed slowly, envisioning another pair of twins inside the house. Her eyes lit up at the potential new adventures or misdemeanours in tow - either way you can't have one without the other. "I think it would be really amazing. I couldn't do it without you."

"And I couldn't do it without you."

He ensnared her lips in another appreciative kiss.

“Happy Anniversary, Mrs. Braun. Thank you for an amazing eleven years of married life together.” He fumbled around his wrist for the luxury watch, engraved with their names and the most important date of his life: the day he made her his wife. “Thank you for the gift. I love it very much. And, here's mine for you.” He retrieved a custom-made dark blue box wrapped with a matching dark purple ribbon from the side table.

Her eyes widened as she saw the box and recognized the label. Only from the finest custom jeweller in South Marley. "Oh…."

"I know you don't wear jewellery because it's hazardous when you're performing surgeries but I really want you to have something more practical but still reminds you of me every second."

Great minds think alike it seems as he too had gotten her a custom fitness watch made from palladium only available in Marley. "I love it. Thank you so much, Reiner." She wasted no time in placing his gift around her wrist, absolutely revelling in its perfect weight and its snug fit. Just like every part of him to hers.

"Look, we match." He grinned as he moved their wrists closer.

"Always."

They basked in their blissful aftermath before their lips found each other again.

“If you were my wife?", she laughed at the callback of their earlier rendezvous at the seaside bar. “Your roleplaying skills have gone rusty, Vice Commander Braun”

“Well, my dear Dr. Ackerman-Braun, it only means we need to do this more often. Hey, maybe next time we can do the hot teacher, bad student routine?”

“We’ve done that 2 years ago.”

“This time I’ll be the hot teacher.”

“Hah…depends though, will you wear your reading glasses?”

He wiggled his eyebrows hilariously. "How thick do you want it to be?"

"Oh god."

He pecked at the juncture of her neck. "Hey, do you think I can borrow one of Armin's work shirt vests?"

"Please stop." She was already laughing hard at the horrendous mental image yet didn't stop his fondling hands or the tiny bites of his teeth against her skin.

They were about to dive deep into another round of lovemaking when the room's phone rang, completely shattering the private haven they have built between the sea of sheets.

"Baby, leave it." Reiner growled into her ear, his hand pulling on her own that's already pressing at the device's speaker button.

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY YOU SICK FREAKS!" A loud voice could be heard from the other end.

"Shut up, Annie." Reiner barked at the phone, but his tone was betrayed by the amused smirk on his face.

Mikasa shook her head at her husband. "Thanks, Annie. Armin too if he's still awake."

"Hey… welcome back, Reiner." Armin's voice could be heard coming from the background of the other couple's room.

"Thanks, bro. Sure good to be back."

"You know Reiner," quipped Annie. "If you really stood her up, I'll be the one who personally hooks Mikasa up with one of those handsome rando strangers we saw at the bar."

"Not today, Satan. I meant, sis."

"Asshole."

The two couples broke into a mutual amused laughter.

"Now, Annie, can you please piss off so I can get back to banging my sexy missus?"

Their respective spouses' hollering their names echoed behind their backs before the call ended with a quick 'Make a baby!' phrase from his stepsister.

"Now, where were we, Mrs. Braun?"

The ends of her painted lips curved upwards and her lightly painted nails were already trailing down her husband's impressive body. She leered sensuously when she climbed on top of her husband's broad frame. "Making a baby."

----

A/N: This is inspired by my upcoming Love Like This AU, where Reiner’s stepsister, Annie is married to Armin, who’s also his wife’s childhood friend. Mikasa and Annie are competitive in-laws and the dysfunctional Braun-Leonhardt family are chaotic, eccentric and loving as they come. No children were harmed in the making of this fic. As a matter of fact, on that night, a child has been conceived haha Thank you for your reading! xoxo

[imaginedcreaderinsert]

Jason’s Room — Jason Todd x Reader (+ Dick Grayson)

SUMMARY: “Yeah?”You hear music; it’s loud, deafening probably, but you don’t have to worry about waking up your partner.Dick is out patrolling, and the bed is now cold. You try and warm yourself up in the duvet. Still doesn’t help, but there’s a rush that slowly burning up your body.No one talks, but you’ve seen the caller ID; enough to make you worry after checking the time, see if it was an emergency. But Jason seems to be frozen.“Jay, I saw it was you. Everything alright?”

WORD COUNT: 2140.

TW: Angsty, toxic relationship implied. Some cheating can be read, but is not acted on. Jason Todd is not portrayed as a good person on this one.

A/N: I have no excuse for writing this, other than really wanting to, which I think it’s a good step, seeing as I’ve abandoned writing for my own pleasure completely. So yeah, just have this.

LYRICS COMPLETELY TAKEN FROM “Marvin’s Room”, by Drake.

Bitches in my old phone

I should call one and go home

I've been in this club too long

 He’s really so fucking drunk. He shouldn’t be allowed to go out on nights like that, but he still does.

(Maybe clinging to the idea that someone will call him up and say “hey, don’t go, I know you’re bad, let’s talk?”.

 He’s stupid, really stupid. Stupid enough to-)

 No, he’s already drinking up another shot, from that lined up column of alcohol in front of him. Jason’s pretty sure he’s at a new club, but he can’t say for sure: nothing is familiar and yet everything echoes in him for a reason: faces, blurred-out expressions of joy and a world going too fast around him; music beating too hard in his chest, making his heart almost leap out of it; laughter that he’s not sure that’s coming out of him really, even as he feels his smile growing, a charismatic and cocky attitude coming out of him.

He could have anyone he wanted; Jason knows he doesn’t have the suave attitude of the family, and yet “the bad boy” always attracts a certain crowd of girls he feels like he could go in for that night.

Jason knows he could, but doesn’t. His hand moves up and down this gorgeous girl at her side, a bronzed goddess, but his eyes move to check up his phone: no new messages or calls.

It’s obsessive really. It must have been the third time he’s done that since his last shot, but… It’s infuriating to know he’s not needed.

 (He is; there’s always that stupid booty call, the fucking vigilante stuff he feels less and less like going in for – it now means something different, something that wrecks him up inside – or the casual reaching out he’s not really interested in deepening.

Just not by that one person he hasn’t heard anything from in the last weeks.

And you said you’d call by now (“in a week or so”), and yet--)

  The woman that I would try

Is happy with a good guy

But I've been drinkin' so much

That I'ma call her anyway, and say

 “Yeah?”

You hear music; it’s loud, deafening probably, but you don’t have to worry about waking up your partner.

Dick is out patrolling, and the bed is now cold. You try and warm yourself up in the duvet. Still doesn’t help, but there’s a rush that slowly burning up your body.

No one talks, but you’ve seen the caller ID; enough to make you worry after checking the time,  see if it was an emergency... But Jason seems to be frozen.

“Jay, I saw it was you. Everything alright?”

“Fuck, I-Fuck, no, I’m-Agh, I’ave to get out of ‘ere… Excuse YOU!” He drags out the vocals; tone is sleazy, lazy, and you would recognize that anyone, of course.

“Are you drunk? Jason?”

You feel incredibly naked, even with your thick pajamas out; you’ve lived this out too many times, and you can almost see him climb your bed.

It’s been a long time since he’s done that, but it’s something you will always remember: the creaking of the wood, springs of the bed, rustling of sheets as he tossed sheets here and there all night.

(The stupid “I love you’s”, the lazy and very drunken make-outs, while groping each other).

“Jason, are you okay or not?”

I know you still think about the times we had

I say fuck that nigga that you think you found

And since you picked up, I know he's not around, oh oh

I'm just sayin' you could do better

 Cause even if those VERY BLURRY nights that you can’t almost remember were nice, there were also the others; those which kind of made you hold onto Dick tighter in bed, at dawn when he sneaked in, cold skin, occasionally bruised. He felt so precious and delicate under the first rays of sun, as his dreams started to die under his eyelids, barely any movement in his body save the soft breathing out of his mouth. Too precious, and too yours.

You loved him entirely and completely. He made you feel so happy you wanted to cry at times; there was nothing lacking, not the sex, not the affection.

 But Jason doesn’t think the same.

What about the rush, what about the times you’ve had?

“Why you pick up?” I know he’s not there, he implies, but doesn’t say. She knows too. “It’s late. Thought you were now reformed; no phone after 2AM or something like that, right?”

“Some of us have jobs. Unfortunately, I don’t have a fortune to fall back on”.

“Ouch.”

It’s very easy to just talk. They laugh, and she gets up on bed; Jason can picture her, duvet up to her chin, propping up her pillow (the best he’s had), to talk better, while still charging the phone. He hears the rustling on her side, meaning she’s staring at the side he used to sleep in. She always loved to sleep tucked into his chest.

“You still haven’t answered.”

“Right back at ya’. Are you okay?”

A really difficult question for a drunken and very honest man at 3AM in the morning.

If he was a better man, he would wish her a goodnight and hang up; no more talking, no more suggesting, no more playing with fire. If he was a better man, he probably wouldn’t be drunk-texting girls to “cheer him up” after this call, and he would just go home, sleep it off, and go at it again another night.

But he really is not, and it’s too late to go back now. That’s at least what he tells himself, what he tries to entitle himself into: he feels too much, he’s had it bad the last couple of weeks without you. So, he is owed that.

And that is his mistake, for no one is entitled to anything over anyone, no matter their own personal suffering.

“I guess.” Vague; but enough to let her get out, not dig in. Which is really a trap when he knows of your good nature, but he tells himself that it’s your choice (your fault!) for asking about it.

“That’s… Comforting, I guess. Friend calling at 3AM, probably lost and unaware of where he is right now, fucking drunk and in a completely safe neighborhood, I’m sure…”. There’s a sigh. He hates hearing you sigh; it’s always cause you’re so tired of him, he knows, he knows. And he hates himself for it, makes him feel so useless. “Just send me your location, I’ll guide you home.”

‘But aren’t you on Blüdhaven?’, he naïvely wants to ask, just to almost punch himself right after. She means the safe house or whatever place is near, that she might have still saved as her favorite or most usual locations at Gotham.

Tell me, have you heard that lately?

I'm just sayin' you could do better

And I'll start hatin' only if you make me

 “So, why you pick up?”, he asks again, just enough sober. His stomach is in knots from the alcohol (and not waiting for your answer, just hearing your voice and talking to you). He’s on a taxi, and the yellow lights on him are making him sleepy. “I answered.”

It’s 4.38AM. Sending a cab there was easy enough once you had his location and Jason swore he wasn’t moving anymore. Bless technology, you think to yourself now a bit irritated for wanting to sleep and not being able to. Your lids are heavy, and the sheets too soft.

“Obviously cause’ I’m an idiot who forgot to silence their phone.” It’s a half-joke. If you had done just like Dick had suggested, you would not be having that conversation. You change sides in your bed, now looking outside, to the window; Jason’s sigh is audible. You almost feel a heavy and ghostly arm bracing you from behind. “If the info is correct, you should be arriving home soon. Wanna hang up?”

“I miss you.”

A beat.

Breath knocked out of your lungs and silence only interrupted by your dramatic mouth breathing. You literally forgot to breathe; that’s how being with Jason used to make you feel.

As exciting and exhilarating every night out or in with him was, it was not good for you. The nights that were good, but the bad ones, really made your feel like shit. And if someone loves you, they will never hurt you. You know, you so know, how bad he’s had it: but that’s not an excuse for his shitty behavior, his stupid harmful jokes or the way he made you feel.

“Jason, it’s been a long week, I know.”

“No, I know, I know-I’m not-I’m not trying to-“. A sigh. His sighs always broke you: too tired, too broken. Jason always had a way with words, but you managed to sometimes kill that off too. “I don’t want to start out anything. I just want to say sorry. I wanted to, but I know-fuck, I really KNOW-“

“Don’t scream, please.” Firm. Cold.

He’s losing you.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m an ass.” He laughs; it’s self-deprecating and you hate it, but you really don’t have the energy right now. “I…”. Nothing comes out. There’s a long silence. Inhale, exhale (“Jason, just breathe, please”): “I love you. Probably more than I would ever admit to do, and you mean so much to me, but I fucked up big time. And I know, I know-” He emphasizes, without elevating his tone. “-I know you’re so happy with him, fuck! It’s disgusting. It’s fucking bizarre to see you two together.” Poison that he spits, that’s eating him out; acid destroying everything inside, every little nerve of sanity still inside. “And yet, I can’t stop-I really think I don’t want to stop thinking on whatever we had, on the kiss we shared-“

“Jay, that was not-“

“No, I know. I know, but we shared it, and it brought me memories, and you closed off! Fuck, I had you to myself, we were-fuck.”

He curses out for a bit. You let him vent, sighing and putting your hand over your eyes, as if to stop everything from happening. No more 3AM calls.

Had it been pretty shitty of you to get with his “brother”? Maybe, but it wasn’t on purpose or with a malicious intent. It really had been pure coincidence that you had hit if off on one of the galas where Jason stood you up, with a considerable hangover and too sick to move anywhere. That, with the argument you had been having more and more often… Jason wasn’t sure you were even going to show up, but there they had met, and he regrets it every day.

 (But sometimes…

 Sometimes they look so perfect that he thinks they might just have been destined to happen, one way or another. If it was not in a gala, maybe a rescue, maybe a touch on the street, a crush, a rude Gothamite exchange of words as you clashed onto each other.

 Whatever. It just happened and now you two were together.)

 “Jason, I was never… “Only yours” to have.”

“On that we can agree. We never really settled, and I didn’t ever treat you nice.”

Not like she wanted; he knew. They were just… Casual friends who fucked every two weeks, who occasionally kissed and got jealous over the other receiving attention from the opposite sex (sometimes same sex). Despite what everyone else thinks, he is quickly to see others social intentions; her whispers on his skin, the brightness on her eyes whenever they would do it with such intimacy, the cuddling… No, he knew, of course he did, that she wanted more.

Jason just wasn’t ready for it. He might never be, but it’s not your fault; never was, never will. And he might just have lost forever the one thing he wanted.

But that’s the thing: everyone wants the chocolate scoop. But what they might need for a change is something they’ve never tried before.

“I don’t know what you’re babbling on about ice cream, Jay. I really…”. She’s tired, he knows. From him, from Dick and his waiting (she never really liked him going on rounds); from just having to bear with all the weight of the world on her naked and frail shoulders. “It’s not the time for this conversation. Can we… Talk another time?”

A beat.

Inhale, exhale.

“Yeah.”. Tired, so tired. Lids closing off,. “I’m here anyways, so I’ll hang up…”. Silence; insufferable silence. He closes his eyes for a second. “Have a goodnight.”

“You too, Jason.”

He’s not there, but he will be soon. He hopes for that, at least; everything will be easier.

[planetesastraea]

On the tip of his tongue

Read Part 1: On the Tip of his Fingers

Geraskier, Modern AU - Explicit - 10 179 words - Warnings: none

Character study, developing relationship, banter, feelings, Geralt vs words, bisexual!Geralt, bottom!Geralt, top!Jaskier, first time, handjobs, blowjobs, anal sex. Also contains pizza (mentioned)

Betaed by the wonderful @oxbridge-quality-fanfiction-co​​

Read on AO3

-

That morning Jaskier got woken up by a soft but firm hand on his shoulder and a husky voice saying his name.

“Hmmf?” was his very articulate reply, definitely worthy of the Creative Writing and Composition in Medieval Times professor he was. “Three words or less,” he would always say to motivate his students to answer questions during class and to start a conversation. Damn, they would have been proud.

“I gotta go,” the deep voice whispered and the previous evening suddenly came back to Jaskier. Geralt. Wow. Geralt . He sat up and blinked a few times before realising his eyes were open but the sun wasn’t up yet. Geralt was but a silhouette in the dark, his smell a mix of long-forgotten aftershave and well remembered sex.

“Mmokay,” Jaskier mumbled, rubbing one eye with his palm. “Thanks for telling me,” he said sleepily. There was a pause and he realised the sentence didn’t land well.

“Sorry. Didn’t want to sneak out,” Geralt replied tightly.

“Yeano, yeah- I meant it. Sorry. Me,” Jaskier said, pointing towards his own face in the dark, and thus proving the point to no one but himself, “not a morning person.”

Geralt snorted softly. Jaskier was overcome with a powerful wave of fondness and a guttural need to reach out and kiss him. Gods bless adorable bi himbos at law.

“I should get going,” Geralt said and Jaskier thought he heard some hesitation in his voice. The mattress dipped slightly as Geralt moved to stand up, and Jaskier reached out blindly. His hand found the inside of Geralt’s elbow and then slid down softly to the man’s wrist, finding his palm.

“Wait,” Jaskier said and Geralt waited. Then it dawned on him that he was supposed to say something . “Do you want to… see me again?” he offered, truly bringing his A-game as the (supposedly) most romantic man in the continent. (He was not boasting. It had simply been brought to his attention by many of his exes, and who was he to question the opinion of the people?) He tried not to sound too hopeful but it was too early in the morning and his acting skills needed a warm-up. After all, one couldn’t just naturally wake up that good.

The silence stretched in a way that made him uncomfortable, especially since Geralt was practically invisible in front of him. Geralt’s fingers brushed his and something in his chest relaxed, but only for a moment.

“I can’t,” Geralt started, making Jaskier’s heart drop, “make promises.”

And okay that wasn’t the worst he could have said but also - uh what ? “Okay? Well I- I’m not asking you to?”

“Hmm.”

“Geralt, I- I had a really nice time with you, you know? And I’d really like to have more… nice times with you. And not just sex, I mean, yes, sex was fantastic, it was , but also, well- what I mean is, I don’t expect you to like, abandon your life or whatever, I just-” he was running out of breath. “Gosh I’m talking too much again, fuck, please, say something? I’m getting zero feedback here and you have to know I’m gonna keep talking until you cut me off-”

“Sorry,” Geralt sighed, his fingers threading between Jaskier’s. “It’s just- This is… I haven’t been with someone in a while and,” he said with hesitation and left the sentence unfinished.

And never with a man , Jaskier thought, pretty sure of what was coming next. “Right,” he said, feeling his throat tighten. Not like he wasn’t used to falling for people who just didn’t have the same life plan- or day plan , even.

“But I think I would,” Geralt said, “like to see you again, I mean.”

“Wait, what?“ Jaskier’s brain derailed.

“I’d like to see you again?” Geralt repeated and it sounded even better the second time.

“Oh.”

"I… had a nice time, too.”

“Oh. Good,” Jaskier whispered, relief washing over him and unlocking the door to yearning. He moved forward, closer to Geralt, his hand sliding up to his shoulder, finding his cheek and feeling the beginning of a stubble under his fingers. “Good,” Jaskier murmured again. Feeling Geralt lean into him was the best reward. He moved his head closer and his nose rubbed softly against Geralt’s, the intimacy sweeter than some of the sex he’d had in the past.

Geralt inclined his head slightly and pressed a chaste, tender kiss against Jaskier’s lips.

Once they parted, phone numbers were exchanged and the soft wish of getting in touch soon was expressed - or, rather, as Jaskier put it as he walked Geralt to the door, “in touch and, well, in touch .” A freaking poet.

-

The morning after they “had a milkshake” - as Jaskier nicknamed their first close encounter - Geralt had gone home right before sunrise to find Eskel wide awake, sitting on the living room couch, a book on his lap. Eskel had looked at him, raised an eyebrow, and pressed his lips together to suppress a smile. “Coffee?” was all he had said and Geralt had been oh so grateful.

In the days that followed, he learned a bit more about Jaskier. He taught both poetry and musicology at university, gave private lessons, and performed with his band from time to time. Spring meant preparing finals, helping students to rehearse for auditions, and getting ready for the upcoming festivals The Bard would participate in. Between his schedule and Geralt’s, over a month had gone before they saw each other in the flesh again. But texting? Texting was definitely a Jaskier thing.

A couple of hours after Geralt had left, Jaskier had sent him a text saying “my bed misses you” . Geralt had promptly walked from one meeting to another, only realising at 6.30 pm during a phone call from Assengard, as he caught sight of the restaurant from across the street, that he had left Jaskier hanging. He tried to think of something clever on his way to pick Ciri up from her fencing class. To his surprise, his idea had worked very well on Jaskier.

Of course, as with most things concerning Jaskier, Geralt quickly discovered, it was prone to get out of hand. The man had decided that “the milkshake” would become “a thing”. The fact that Geralt’s favourite order at Denise’s included a vanilla milkshake with cream on top was apparently hilarious for reasons Geralt could not understand.

Since then, Geralt would receive texts from Jaskier every few days, ranging from “thinking of u” to “which one of these says ‘I am a 100%-responsible adult person who will turn your child into a virtuoso if you allow me to teach them?’” with a picture of two button-down shirts attached.

Geralt had left him on read , the bastard.

-

After the six most frustrating weeks of his life - yes, more frustrating than the whole summer he spent sharing a flat with a Spanish model who had very loud, very heterosexual sex on the other side of their paper-thin, shared bedroom wall - Jaskier finally got his hands back on his favourite lawyer’s ass.

They had agreed Geralt would meet him at his place that Friday after work. And so, Jaskier spent the afternoon trying to convince himself he could mark students’ essays, and was absolutely not in the hellish head-space where nervousness meets horniness. (He made it through five so he counted it as a win.)

He had changed outfits three times in two hours, and had promised Essi he absolutely was not falling for some seemingly perfect person who would then turn out to have a secret wife, three children and a dog (“Well since you’re asking, he has a very public ex-wife, one daughter, and a horse.” “A horse?” “Yup.” “What the hell?” “I have no fucking clue.”)

Jaskier was busy adjusting a sofa pillow to make it appear tidy-but-casual when the bell rang, making him jump out of his skin.

When he opened the door, Geralt looked like he was two seconds away from running back down the stairs and disappearing forever in some mysterious vineyard near Toussaint. Geralt, being the absolute asshole that he was, also looked like a fucking god amongst humans so Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of him once again. He had almost forgotten how stunning the man was.

“Hi,” Geralt said.

Jaskier shook himself out of his dreamy smitten state and felt a tingle in his cheeks as he blushed. “Hey, come on in,” he said, waving the man inside.

Geralt had his hair tied in a casual bun and was wearing a black winter coat way above Jaskier’s pay grade. Gods, what a sight. Jaskier was fucked .

“Are you-”

“So how’s-”

They both started and stopped at the same time, which made Jaskier laugh and Geralt shake his head as he looked away, a side of his mouth rising into a smile. Boy, Jaskier thought, if Geralt was half as fond of him as he was of Geralt, they’d be married in three years, move to a farm in five, and adopt every stray dog in the area a year after that at the latest.

“Can I take your coat?” Jaskier offered.

As Geralt nodded, Jaskier got his hands on the lapels of Geralt’s coat, fingers absent-mindedly pressing against Geralt’s chest, feeling the soft wool, and the strong pecs underneath all the layers. A moment passed and he realised Geralt hadn’t moved an inch. He stopped staring at his own hand and, as he looked up, realised Geralt was looking at him. Or more like, looking at his mouth.

There was a beat and they both moved forward, catching each other’s lips.

“Fuck, is it ok to say I’ve missed you?” Jaskier breathed between two kisses.

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, pushing Jaskier against the door and leaving his lips to kiss and suck the skin of his neck.

“Ah, okay, I’ll take that as a yes,” he half-moaned and got Geralt’s mouth back against his, kissing like he just couldn’t get enough- because he couldn’t. Geralt got rid of his coat, letting it fall onto the floor.

“M-maybe we should take a second to hang it. It looks expensive.”

“It’s a gift from my ex,” Geralt mumbled against Jaskier’s skin, biting tentatively at his Adam’s apple.

“Or we could stomp all over it,” Jaskier deadpanned. Geralt laughed against his throat and Jaskier felt it resonate through his chest.

“So you’re the possessive kind, then?”

“Uh,” Jaskier bit his lip, “only if that turns you on.”

Geralt kissed a line up to Jaskier’s ear and caressed him through his trousers as he nibbled at his earlobe. In the softest, most quiet whisper, he murmured: “It does.”

Jaskier groaned with pleasure and Geralt kissed him in earnest, his hand still fondling the man’s inseam. He pressed his pelvis against Jaskier’s and both moaned from the supplementary friction.

“Let me try something?” Geralt asked against Jaskier’s lips before promptly getting down onto his knees.

“Oh, wow, okay,” Jaskier gasped as Geralt went straight for his belt. “Ah- w-wait, you- you sure?”

Geralt rolled his eyes, undoing the man’s button and zipper until Jaskier’s hands came to rest softly over his.

“No, I’m serious, you don’t have to.”

"I know,” Geralt answered, looking up at him. “I want to.”

“Okay. Okay. Just stop if it’s not good with you, right?”

“Right.”

He pulled Jaskier’s trousers down, not wasting any time. The curved line of his hardening cock was obvious under his underwear and Geralt slowed down, caressing the back of Jaskier’s thigh with one hand, the other moving up to his crotch. He palmed Jaskier through his boxer briefs (his navy blue boxer briefs) and was delighted to see him try to control his breathing through the surging wave of desire.

“Take them off for me?” Geralt asked, his voice rough with arousal.

Jaskier breathed out shakingly and slid his thumbs under the waistband, pulling his underwear down under Geralt’s relentless attention. Unable to stop himself, Jaskier took his own cock in hand and stroked himself, humming with pleasure with the first movement of his wrist. Geralt was sitting on his ankles, mesmerised.

“You like watching?” Jaskier asked, and even though the answer was pretty obvious, Geralt didn’t say it out loud. He raised to his knees, kissing the inside of Jaskier’s thighs, every breath softly tickling Jaskier’s skin, the hand maintaining its rhythm.

Moving upwards, Geralt’s tongue darted out to lick Jaskier’s balls, surprising him so much the back of his head hit the door, generating a moan which turned into a wince and then back into a moan again. Geralt’s smile shaped the kiss he pressed on Jaskier’s thigh as his fingers brushed through the man’s pubic hair, and slid up to find Jaskier’s hand, slowing it down.

Jaskier felt Geralt’s hot breath coming closer to his cock and had to bite his lower lip when the other man’s lips brushed against his fingers, kissing them one by one, silently asking him to let go. Jaskier didn’t need much convincing until, of course, fuck his goddamn unstoppable brain, a thought occurred to him.

“Wait!” he exclaimed and, at least, was blessed with the sight of Geralt looking up at him with surprise, his lips apart, tongue visible, and… Fuck, he looked so innocent and yet devilishly hot like this.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Just- safety, right? You can, uh, get STIs. From, you know, sucking off someone unprotected. So you should be safe, you know.”

“Uh,” Geralt frowned. “Do you have STIs I should worry about?”

“No, I’m clean. I just mean, you know, in general.”

“I don’t need sex ed, Jaskier.”

“I know,“ he said, unconvincingly. "I’m just saying. Cause, like, it matters, and, you… well, you know.”

“I know,” he nodded even though he didn’t really. “Anything else?” he asked, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

“Well, you shouldn’t take my word for it.”

“What?” Well, he only had himself to blame, right? He did ask.

“That I’m clean. I mean you can’t take people’s word for it, sometimes people just-”

“ Jaskier. I’ve slept with strangers before,” Geralt said bluntly, missing the brief pained look on Jaskier’s face at being classified as a stranger . “You’re clean. I’m clean. If you’re fine with this, I’m fine with this.”

“Yes. Yeah, I am. I am. Sorry,” Jaskier shook his head. “Did I just ruin it? It’s just, it matters you know, so I figured-”

“Jask. I get it. It’s fine,” Geralt said, rubbing his thumbs on each of Jaskier’s hip bones. “Can I suck your cock, now?” he asked softly. Jaskier’s worries disappeared from his mind instantly, and he nodded enthusiastically about twelve times above the consent limit.

Geralt took him into his hand and stroked him, slowly but firmly, further limiting his brain’s already diminished access to oxygen. Geralt’s other hand had reached out to fondle his ass and his fingers began to lightly drum along the back of Jaskier’s thigh, brushing softly, ghosting against his skin, and sending a brand new kind of sparks of want to Jaskier’s cock.

After a few strokes, Geralt brought his lips to the base of Jaskier’s shaft, kissing the hairs in a way one could have described as chaste if it hadn’t been happening so close to another man’s dick. He then proceeded to drop fuller kisses on the soft skin of Jaskier’s cock, pressing his lips against the skin almost reverently as his hand kept working Jaskier. When he was satisfied with the soft noises and the sound of fast breathing above him, he guided his hand back to the base of Jaskier’s cock, pumping a few times before guiding the tip of Jaskier’s dick to his mouth as he licked .

“Fffuck-” Jaskier gasped, and Geralt smiled.

Wetting his lips, he opened his mouth and wrapped it around the very tip of Jaskier’s cock, kissing it wetly, his tongue running against the underside. He let go, only to kiss the side of the head with an open mouth and then took Jaskier’s cock again.

As soon as he had run into Geralt at the bar, Jaskier had been both mindlessly infatuated and completely unsure what to expect. Geralt’s enthusiasm for learning to give head was definitely one of the things he didn’t see coming.

Geralt’s hand fondled his butt cheek again. As he pressed the tip of his fingers lightly against his sacrum, Jaskier sighed and angled his pelvis forward the way Geralt’s hand invited him to. Geralt took a slow breath through his nose, obviously trying to relax as much as he could as he moved forward, taking in a little more of Jaskier in his mouth and sliding his lips over the ring of Jaskier’s cock.

“Oh,” escaped from Jaskier’s lips as Geralt drew back slightly and took more of him again. “Oh darling, oh, yes, that’s good,” he stammered, caressing Geralt’s cheek before drawing back and slapping his hand against the door to ground himself and to restrain from grabbing the back of Geralt’s neck.

Geralt groaned softly at the loss, reaching out for Jaskier’s hand, closing his eyes as soon as he felt Jaskier’s touch again. He moaned as he kept sucking him slowly, clearly enjoying the guiding hand on his cheek.

“Oh, darling,” Jaskier moaned. His thumb rubbed softly against Geralt’s stubbly cheekbone before his hand slid against his cheek and jaw encouragingly. “Oh, that’s good, yeah that’s- Keep going, love,” he whispered again.

Biting his lower lip, Jaskier kept caressing Geralt’s cheek, whispering sweet nothings and sliding his fingers through the other man’s hair, convinced Geralt would have purred around his cock if he could.

"That’s really good, sweetheart,” and as Geralt enthusiastically took him a tad deeper, he just couldn’t help himself. “Oh, that’s my good boy ,” he moaned and Geralt all but choked on his dick.

Pulling back and resting a hand against the floor, half-slipping on his discarded coat, Geralt coughed and tried to get his breath back from choking on his own spit.

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry-” Jaskier kneeled by him hastily - and heavily . Having his jeans pooled around his knees wasn’t exactly helping him be graceful. “You alright?”

“Fine,” Geralt rasped, a bright shade of pink all over his face. He coughed again.

“Do you need a drink or something?”

Geralt laughed brokenly through a cough. “To help me forget I could have bitten your dick off?” he asked and Jaskier huffed.

“Don’t be silly,” he smiled, brushing away the hair across Geralt’s face as he leaned to kiss him. “This cock has seen worse.”

“That’s always comforting,” Geralt mumbled against his lips.

Jaskier laughed and caught his lips into another kiss, enjoying the way Geralt sighed comfortably, and held on to the back of his neck. His hand wandered to find the hem of Geralt’s shirt and slipped under his waistband before he arrived at a bright idea. “What if - and I know it’s going to be a very bold, and novel concept, but hear me out - what if we stopped using my front door and living room floor as acceptable fucking surfaces and straight out moved to the bed?”

“Hmm,” Geralt mused falsely. “Didn’t know there was anything straight about you,” he snarked and was met with a playful slap on the breast accompanied by Jaskier’s cackling laughter.

“Oh, look who’s talking now!”

They fumbled to get Jaskier back on his feet - “well I do love to spend time on my knees” - and got rid of the jeans which were annoyingly getting in their way, to then move on to the bedroom.

-

His bedroom, Jaskier decided, was absolutely ruined . Nothing would ever look better than Geralt sprawled on his bed, naked, his hard cock pressed against his lower belly. If Geralt ever decided to break things off with him - a thought which, despite people often calling him dramatic, he knew was perfectly realistic - Jaskier would have to change the room entirely. He would repaint the walls, get new furniture, burn the bed, maybe, or - to simplify - move places. No, there was no way a single soul could ever sleep on sheets which had touched Geralt’s skin without missing his presence like any respectable bard would miss their medieval lute.

At that moment, however, this bard was straddling Geralt’s lap, his arms around Geralt’s neck, while being held around his middle and kissed languorously. They were both naked, every inch of skin yearning to feel the other, and not a single thing was amiss.

“Would you like to touch yourself for me, darling?” Jaskier asked between two kisses, his voice low and syrupy.

A groan came from the bottom of Geralt’s throat and vibrated against Jaskier’s tongue.

“Fuck, I love the noises you make,” he whispered against Geralt’s lips, catching the man’s tongue in another open-mouth kiss.

Geralt started stroking his own cock and howled, and Jaskier broke the kiss unintentionally, unable to stop smiling at the sheer bestiality of the man.

Jaskier smacked his lips against Geralt’s a few more times as Geralt chased his mouth for more. Curving his hand around Geralt’s cheek, he kissed him one more time before slipping his thumb on his lips. He didn’t expect Geralt to kiss his finger, chastely, then lick its tip and lustfully take it in his mouth. Jaskier didn’t sigh as much as he whined .

“Would you prepare yourself for me?” Jaskier asked, making his intentions clearer, his voice a bit hesitant but hopeful.

Geralt let go of his thumb, letting Jaskier caress his lips lovingly. “Maybe it’s better if you do it,” he said, kissing the inside of Jaskier’s palm in an obvious attempt to hide his face.

“Is it?” Jaskier asked, and Geralt closed his eyes, something like regret written on his face.

“I’m not very good at it,” he grimaced.

“You’ve done it before?”

Geralt hummed, uncomfortable. “Since last time,” he clarified. “It didn’t really- I don’t know, maybe it’s not my thing,” he shrugged, still avoiding Jaskier’s eyes.

“Hey,” Jaskier whispered, his voice coated with kindness, unable to stop himself as he tipped Geralt’s chin up and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips. “You can’t become a virtuoso on the first try,” he said.

Geralt frowned but then hid his discomfort behind a playful look. “Are you saying my ass is a musical instrument-”

“Shush, you!” Jaskier giggled. “I’m trying to be serious, for once!” he chastised him.

Geralt snickered and hid his face back into Jaskier’s hand, softly kissing his wrist.

“Maybe you had one of the best orgasms of your life the first time you rubbed one out but we , regular human beings, had to work for it,” he paused for more dramatic flair. “L ong and hard and again and again …” he wiggled his eyebrows and Geralt snorted. “We learn what feels good and what doesn’t. Just because you’re ol-” Geralt gave him a pointed look “ -der doesn’t mean you don’t need to get to know yourself.”

“Nice save,” Geralt deadpanned.

“I know, right? Almost seamless,” Jaskier smiled back, clearly full of shit, and went in for a kiss.

“Hmm,” Geralt sighed. “I think I’d rather-” he hesitated, “get on with it, you know.”

“Get on with it?” It was Jaskier’s turn to raise an unconvinced eyebrow.

“Yeah, just get it done.”

“My, what a romantic you are,” Jaskier snickered and Geralt rolled his eyes, trying to make amends by rubbing Jaskier’s skin with his thumb where his hand rested on his hip.

“You just said it, first times suck. I just gotta- get through it and then, well. Hopefully, we get to the good stuff.”

“G- get through it ? You know this isn’t CrossFit, right?”

Geralt snorted. “You know what I mean,” Geralt said, then bit his lip as he frowned, pressing his forehead against Jaskier’s. “You know I’m not-,” he waved his hand, “good at this.”

“Words?”

He puffed. “Yeah, words.”

“Yeah, I got that. I hear you.” Jaskier smoothly brushed a strand of hair back behind Geralt’s ear. “There’s something else I heard. ‘First times suck’ ? Well challenge accepted, my dear,” he said and Geralt laughed as he kissed him again.

Geralt let himself be slowly pushed down to the bed as they kissed, his hands moving up Jaskier’s back, feeling the muscles along the way. His hand reached the back of Jaskier’s neck, covering it for a moment before he buried his fingers into the man’s hair as they softly ground against each other.

Jaskier slid his hand between them, giving both of their cocks a pull before moving lower. “Raise your legs for me, darling?” he asked in low tones, sliding his hands under Geralt’s knees. He could feel Geralt slightly tensing up as he set his feet to the mattress. It didn’t feel like it had anything to do with the scar Jaskier had brushed with his fingertips.

“Shouldn’t I be on my hands and knees?” he asked in a breath while Jaskier’s hands found their way back to his chest.

“You could,” he kissed a spot on his jaw, caressing Geralt’s pectoral. “You don’t have to.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier?” his voice was fairly tight and Jaskier faintly wondered if it was any clue to the state of his ass- and then kept the thought very much to his stupid dick-jokes self.

“Nah, not necessarily,” he whispered, trying to make his hands into a calming, solid presence against Geralt’s skin, caressing his breasts, his ribs, his clavicles, lining his scars with the care they deserved. Whichever God carved this man’s body, Jaskier swore to worship them until the end of his days.

“It can be straining to hold that position. Also…” Jaskier raised himself to face Geralt, picking up the man’s hand as it slipped over his shoulder and kissed the root of each finger. “We don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable with it,” he said. “We don’t have to do it today.” He weaved his fingers between Geralt’s and kissed their tips. “And we don’t have to do it ever.”

Geralt’s face became closed off as he took a slow breath in, bolting up the gates before Jaskier had a chance to read him. He raised to meet Jaskier, his hand finding the perfect place at the back of his neck, and kissed him earnestly.

“I want you to fuck me,” he said against his lips.

“Yeah?” Jaskier gasped. “Got you, loud and clear,” Jaskier whispered and leaned into another kiss.

He broke away from Geralt to reach his nightstand drawer, pulling out some lube and condoms. He grabbed a pillow, invited Geralt to raise his hips and slid it underneath.

“Now, where was I?” he said under his breath, settling between Geralt’s legs and rubbing their bodies against each other. Geralt moaned and wrapped a leg around Jaskier’s pelvis, grinding back eagerly.

Holding his thigh with one hand, Jaskier began kissing his neck, licking and biting the skin at his throat, intending to take care of every inch of Geralt’s body. He licked one of Geralt’s nipples, extracting a moan from Geralt when he sucked and scraped his teeth against the strong muscle of his tit. Feeling Geralt slowly relax under his hands, he headed lower, kissing the pale hairy line that led from his navel to his cock.

He squeezed Geralt’s cock gently, carefully caressing the tip with his thumb and watching the precome spread, shiny against the soft skin. He looked up at Geralt as he moved his hand steadily up and down, a spark of ecstasy jumping from his heart to his cock at the sight of Geralt, eyes closed, biting his lower lip. Every moment assured Jaskier that pleasuring this man was actually his entire life’s purpose.

Geralt hummed with pleasure as Jaskier wrapped his lips around his cock, already struggling not to buck his hips when Jaskier took more of him in his mouth.

Jaskier couldn’t help but hum around his dick as he took it in, playing with depth and rhythm like a true maestro, his fingers threading through the light grey curls of Geralt’s pubes. He then let go of Geralt’s cock with an obscene pop that made him laugh and licked up from the spot right above Geralt’s balls.

Geralt’s hips stirred in both pleasure and surprise.

Jaskier got his hands back on the lube as he kissed and licked the man’s balls, encouraged by the whines and groans that escaped Geralt’s throat. He warmed his lubed fingers against each other and caressed Geralt’s ass with what he wouldn’t deny was absolute adoration. “Can I touch you, darling?” he asked, his voice a bit rough.

Geralt breathed a “yeah” and sounded almost like he was begging but Jaskier gracefully didn’t comment on it. (He, however, definitely took note.) Instead, he slid a hand between Geralt’s cheeks and brushed a finger against his hole as his mouth drove back down Geralt’s beautifully thick cock.

Jaskier teased a little, trying out different pressures against the man’s hole before the song of Geralt’s moans left no room for doubt. He slid his forefinger in while his other hand caressed Geralt’s inner thigh and finally felt the heat of Geralt’s body wrapped around his finger. He pulled back slightly and pushed again, this time steadily driving his finger deeper, synching his hand with the movements of his neck.

Despite Geralt’s frequent struggles with words, his gasps and moans were graced with great clarity and proved sufficient to let Jaskier know he was right to keep going. As far as non-verbal cues go, he also quickly found delight in feeling the walls of Geralt’s ass tightening around him and the taste of more precome coating his tongue.

“ Ah , your mouth,” Geralt moaned, reaching out and grasping onto Jaskier’s hair.

Jaskier closed his eyes and moaned, aching for better friction than the bit of sheet he could rub his cock against. Grabbing the lube with one hand, he couldn’t help but jerk himself a couple of times as Geralt’s hand kept pulling his hair with each bop of his head.

Pointedly slowing down and looking up, he waited for Geralt’s attention to focus on him. He made a point of keeping their eyes locked as he shamelessly pulled up and let go of his cock. “D’you want another finger, honey?” he asked, perfectly aware of how depraved he had to look with his hair astray and his lips as probably as crimson as the tip of Geralt’s cock.

Geralt pulled him closer and met him with a crushing kiss as he nodded and moaned against Jaskier’s brow. “Hm- wait,” he breathed, holding Jaskier back as he started to let go, “I haven’t touched you at all,” he complained, his hands cupping Jaskier’s ass in a kind but firm grasp.

“Ah- It’s alright, love,” Jaskier said. “We’ve got time for that,” he smiled against Geralt’s lips but before he could leave again, Geralt grabbed his hand.

“I want you to feel as good as I do,” he breathed.

“Oh, trust me, darling, I’m feeling fantastic,” Jaskier grinned. They kissed one more time before Geralt let go of him and Jaskier drove his attention back to his lover’s lower body.

Geralt sighed as he settled his head back against his pillow, muttering something about how Jaskier was going to kill him.

Jaskier brought one hand at the base of Geralt’s cock, put his mouth back to work and fingered him a little while longer before adding another slick finger. Geralt whined and Jaskier reached out for his hand, threading their fingers together, hoping Geralt would know it was his way of checking in before Geralt sighed “ Yeah, s’good ,” in a tone that sounded pretty far gone.

He fucked Geralt with his fingers a few tentative times and curled them softly on the way out. In case he had any doubt his fingers were brushing against the right spot, Geralt’s hips jerked, driving his cock further down Jaskier’s throat.

“Ah, fuck ,” Geralt moaned. “Fuck, sorry,” slipped from his lips as if he was holding back so many more words.

Jaskier squeezed his hand in reassurance and kept sucking on Geralt’s dick until he could feel him tremble. He rubbed against Geralt’s prostate, drinking in every noise leaving the man’s lips, every movement revealing his pleasure.

“Ah, Jask,” Geralt moaned again, clutching to Jaskier’s hand like nothing would ever be able to make him let go. “Jas- Jaskier, ah , Jask, wait, I’m gonna-”

His hips buckled and his back raised from the mattress as he came, mouth open, gasping. He moaned and groaned as Jaskier kept fucking him onto his fingers until he was done spilling.

Jaskier slid his fingers out of Geralt’s ass, unable not to pull on his own cock even as he wiped off his mouth and tried to catch his breath, resting his forehead against the soft flesh of Geralt’s hip.

“Fuck,” Geralt whispered as he stretched, the last tingles of pleasure leaving his body. He brought his hands to his face, covering his blush and groaned “ fuck ” in a wholly different tone.

“Hey,” Jaskier gasped, slowing down the movements of his wrist and bringing his other hand to touch Geralt’s arm. “Hey, you alright?”

“Hmm,” he groaned from under his hands.

“What’s wrong, darling?” he asked and Geralt huffed.

“I just came like a teenager, darling ,” Geralt mumbled, the edge of his sarcasm largely smoothed out by post-coital bliss.

Jaskier chuckled. “No, you didn’t. You held up really well,” he said, caressing Geralt’s forearm. “My charms were simply too mighty for you to keep it in any longer,” he whispered, and kissed his other wrist and hand, hoping Geralt would emerge from his hiding place.

Geralt groaned again, unconvinced, but let his hand slip away when Jaskier kissed his knuckles, allowing the other man to paint his cheek with the sweet brush of his lips.

“I wanted you,” Geralt whispered, in a weak, almost plaintive way.

“I’m still right here, love,” Jaskier whispered back. “You still have me,” he said at the corner of Geralt’s lips, pressing his mouth softly against his. He found Geralt pressing back with the same tenderness then savouring the taste his own come on Jaskier’s tongue.

They stayed like this for a moment, simply enjoying the warmth of each other’s arms, slowly kissing and holding each other.

“Do you need me?” Geralt asked after Jaskier buckled against his hips involuntarily.

“If your schedule allows it,” Jaskier joked, hiding his face in his neck and humming as he rubbed himself against Geralt.

“What do you want?” Geralt asked, caressing the length of Jaskier’s back, pressing his fingers along the muscles, waking up every fibre of Jaskier’s body.

“This,” Jaskier murmured, “This is perfect.”

He rubbed himself slowly against Geralt as the man covered him in caresses, the callousness of Geralt’s hands contrasting with the softness of his gestures. He ground against Geralt’s hip lazily, welcoming the pressure of Geralt’s hands on his ass, feeling the imprint of each finger into his flesh. His cock was still smeared with lube and the mess he’d spit onto Geralt’s pelvis made for a dirty, wonderful help.

“You look so good like this,” Geralt whispered, kissing a spot under his ear. “You feel so good against me,” he said softly, his tenderness almost making Jaskier come on the spot.

“ Ah , please, touch me,” he begged and Geralt reached for his cock like a servant knight, enthusiastically escorting him to rapture as Jaskier fucked into his hand again and again and again , his shout resonating through the bedroom as he came.

Geralt held him as Jaskier made his way back down, their bodies sweaty and well spent, comfortably intertwined.

After a while during which Jaskier’s mind drifted and fluttered between sleep and consciousness, he adjusted his body to kiss the side of Geralt’s jaw.

“Care to be introduced to my shower?” he asked sleepily.

“Hmm. Good call,” Geralt nodded, and pressed a kiss against his temple.

-

When Geralt walked out of the shower, freshly cleaned up and smelling like Jaskier’s lemon soap, his clothes were neatly arranged on the bed. He got dressed and followed the sound of Jaskier’s humming, finding him in the kitchen frowning at some delivery menus. He was biting his lip, seeming pretty conflicted and Geralt surprised himself thinking: shit, he’s cute.

He kept expecting to have a change of heart any minute now. It was, after all, bound to happen, the next logical step, the most probable outcome: one morning he would wake up and realise that surely this had all been fun but he wasn’t into it anymore. He just had gotten a bit confused and wasn’t actually feeling so much for this man- or any other man, or any other person for that matter.

After splitting up with Yen, he thought he’d never grow fond of someone enough to want anything (at least anything more than sex, but even sex was quite low on his list of priorities). With Jaskier, though- it was like every other day, Geralt would find another thing he’d like to share with the handsome man who had run into him and insisted on sticking around.

“Hey,” Jaskier said, noticing him in the doorway. “So I was thinking, either Casa Lauretta or Athumani’s Kitchen , what do you think? And before you say anything- I know , take out again, but I can’t both try to seduce you and subject you to my cooking.”

Geralt snorted. “You’ve had me in your bed already. Twice. ” he said, raising a playful eyebrow. “At what point will you consider me successfully seduced?”

“Uh, I don’t know, some time between the third dog and the second honeymoon, I guess?” Jaskier pretended to ponder.

Geralt blinked at him and his smile froze on his face. He often struggled with words to begin with but Jaskier mastered the art of leaving him speechless. Banter was his realm. Jaskier knew the terrain by heart and he revelled in it. He was light on his feet and quick on his toes. Every time Geralt tried to play his game and stepped towards Jaskier, the distance separating them seemed to grow.

He felt like a novice trying to catch up with a man who had hiked the trail his whole life, knew its twists and turns by heart. No matter how much he tried to relax and enjoy the sights by Jaskier’s side, he still felt the man would always be ahead of him. Like he would never be able to catch up and stay stuck in the land of the new and uncomfortable.

He cleared his throat. “What’s in these cupboards of yours?“ he asked, brushing past Jaskier to open a few of them. At first, the answer seemed to be both everything and not much at all . But after initial confusion, he realised Jaskier might actually have a system.

Items weren’t sorted by kind but rather by what goes well together: canned mushrooms next to rice, coconut milk next to curry powder, sliced bread between jam and mustard. He wasn’t sure why "365 Lesser-known Eastern Medieval Poems” was stacked with cereals, or why Jaskier’s watch was in a bowl, but he could find out with time.

Something tickled the back of his neck and he realised Jaskier was playing with his hair, a bit of a smitten look on his face. As Geralt looked at him, Jaskier froze and blushed.

“Sorry,” he said, retreating his hand. “I love your hair,” he said sheepishly.

“I lost my hairband somewhere,” Geralt said, looking around.

“It looks good like this too,” Jaskier said. “Pretty sure it looks good all the time,” he smiled and brushed an escapee strand of hair back behind Geralt’s ear.

And here it was: another immensely confusing thing about Jaskier. The man radiated self-confidence 99% of the time. He could bathe in the attention of a crowd, flirt shamelessly with a complete stranger and whisper the filthiest words, dirtiest things- he could fantasize out loud about getting married to a man he’d only known for a few weeks. Yet there was also a shyness about the smallest of things, a vulnerability . It made Geralt want to pick him up and take him to safety- and he was perfectly aware of how ridiculous that sounded. But it felt like maybe, Jaskier’s hidden, more reserved side was a path where they could meet halfway.

He leaned towards him and kissed the corner of Jaskier’s mouth. “Thank you,” he said.

Jaskier smiled and his whole face illuminated. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Good,” Geralt nodded, taking his attention back to the cupboard. And so here he was again, taking a step back on what had started to feel like a comfortable route and stiffly navigating in between the metaphorical potholes on the road leading to Jaskier. As it turned out, talking about how his ass felt after getting fingered was not Geralt’s forte either. But Jaskier - in a moment of extreme humility - had described himself as a master of words and rhythm and that’s exactly what he was. He could use any word, touch upon any topic, express any emotion. Jaskier had a whole planisphere at his disposal, a means to take any road; Geralt had shitty directions and a compass that only told North once in a blue moon.

“No pain?”

“No,” he answered, closed the cupboard and exited Jaskier’s personal space to grab the menus. “Maybe delivery’s better, you’re right,” he said.

“Hmm,” Jaskier answered. “You do that a lot,” he pointed out.

Geralt gave him a look above his shoulder. “What?”

“Changing topics. Avoiding conversations,” Jaskier explained lightly. His tone was not judgemental. He was merely making an observation.

And so, “I’m not,” Geralt lied. He only realised he had lied the second he heard himself. Fuck . “I didn’t realise there was more to say.” Less of a lie. Not quite a half-truth.

Jaskier sighed softly and settled next to Geralt, pressing his forearms against the kitchen counter. "Margherita, then?” he asked. Geralt could see the tight shape of his lips and the square angle of his shoulders. Jaskier had obviously seen right through him but was dropping the subject for his sake.

“You’re disappointed,” he said and Jaskier’s head shot back up to look at him.

“With the pizza options?” Jaskier joked weakly.

“With,” he hesitated. “Me.”

“No-” Jaskier argued right away, raising his hand to cut him off. But Geralt knew how it was, what people expected, not unfairly, versus how little he could offer.

“It’s fine,” Geralt said. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I-,” he paused to weigh his words carefully, eyes focused on the menus. "I’m not very good at-” he hesitated then snorted under Jaskier’s confused look. “ Opening up ?” he said, raising an eyebrow in Jaskier’s direction.

Jaskier laughed and reached out to rest his hand over Geralt’s. “Well, we’ve talked about this,” he said, with a shine in his eyes. “Practice makes better.” Geralt hummed, looking at Jaskier’s hand over his. To his surprise, Jaskier retracted his hand somewhat suddenly and he missed the weight of it right away. “And it’s not like we know each other that well, as you said,” he shrugged, at the edge of Geralt’s field of vision.

“I am ok,” he said, answering Jaskier’s previous question more honestly. “Bit weird but ok.” His brain then caught up with Jaskier’s words a moment too late; as you said ?

"Okay,” Jaskier said, offering a shy smile. “I- it’s okay if it doesn’t come naturally to you. I just- well, I’d just like you to be more comfortable with me. But we’ll get there, right?”

Geralt swallowed, closing and opening the hand that was resting on the counter to get rid of a slight tremor. Saying yes would have been another lie. He couldn’t make that promise. He had tried before, thought that maybe if he forced himself to be enough then things would work out eventually- but they hadn’t.

And so it would have been easy to say no , to back off entirely. He could tell Jaskier he wasn’t interested in building something, just wanted an easy fuck, to experiment a bit, and had simply gotten lucky enough to find a guy who wasn’t repelled by his shitty personality and off-putting scars. It would have been so easy- to tell Jaskier, “I don’t know what you thought you were getting out of this, but you won’t get me .” It was complete and absolute bullshit, a sad pack of lies, but it would be so much easier. He could get back to his life, his job, his kid and the handful of friends he still had, and never think about blue eyes or milkshakes again.

If only the thought didn’t make him nauseous.

Fuck, he wanted this.

“This isn’t casual for you, is it?” he asked, voice tight, and Jaskier startled, almost taking a step back. His face made an odd succession of expressions and he opened his mouth a couple of times before closing it again.

“I- I can be casual. I can be very casual. That’s not a problem, that’s not a- but I-,” he sighed and brushed his hand through his hair nervously. “Fuck, you really don’t fuck around, do you?” Geralt tried to come up with something to say but Jaskier shook his head, his voice way calmer now even if a bit wavering. “No. No, I don’t think I want to be casual with you. And- And you- you don’t w-”

“Me neither,” Geralt cut in before panic took over Jaskier.

The man’s eyes grew a little wider. “You neither?” he asked, and fuck if that wasn’t the most obvious display of naked hope Geralt had ever seen on anybody’s face.

Geralt shook his head and Jaskier seemingly had to fight a full-body shiver.

Jaskier walked the two steps separating them and kissed Geralt with his entire soul. When he pulled back, Geralt leaned into him again for another taste of his tongue. He brought a hand to Jaskier’s cheek and kissed him with feeling. When they parted, he kept his eyes closed, pressing his forehead to Jaskier’s, the tip of his fingers grazing the short hair behind his ear.

“I’m not used to wanting…” Geralt said. “Sex is good. But usually I don’t- I don’t want more. With you, I- I don’t want to ru- to leave . And it’s…”

“Weird, isn’t it?” Jaskier offered, his voice tight but tone playful. The shy smile on his lips was a delicious cherry on top, making the teasing even softer. (Little did Jaskier know that a cherry was the only thing in Geralt’s opinion that could ever improve a creamy vanilla milkshake.)

“Yeah, it’s weird,” Geralt huffed. Jaskier kissed him, and after working through so many words, Geralt ran out of things to say. “So, yeah. Margherita’s good,” he whispered, and it was his turn to make Jaskier laugh. The man cleared his throat and sighed like a weight had been taken off his chest.

“I can’t believe you said all that before even knowing Lauretta delivers vanilla milkshakes,” he said and Geralt poked him in the ribs until they half-wrestled, laughing, Jaskier’s back hitting the fridge- and they were kissing again.

-

They talked over dinner for a while. Jaskier came up with questions for Geralt to answer, helping him ease into a casual conversation. They teased and flirted and laughed, and soon ended up in bed again, tasting each other’s skin and leaning into each other’s curves.

“Full disclosure?” Jaskier whispered against Geralt’s mouth as he was straddling him. “I really fucking love those tits of yours,” he said, cupping Geralt’s chest with his two hands. Geralt scoffed in between two kisses.

“They’re called pecs,” he said, enjoying the way Jaskier’s hands were basically venerating his chest.

“Nuh-uh,” Jaskier replied, “I, good sir, am an artist, not an anatomist, and these are definitely some of the most magnificent boobies I have ever had the chance to see, touch and lick,” he said, brushing a nipple with his thumb while kissing Geralt’s jaw.

Geralt snorted and kept caressing Jaskier’s incredibly precious ass.

Jaskier sighed with contentment. “So, tell me your secret,” he mumbled against Geralt’s skin, finding a tendon in Geralt’s neck and following it with his lips, tongue and teeth. “How does a corporate lawyer get as buff as you?”

Geralt’s laugh was more of a scoff as he felt the more-or-less accidental brush of Jaskier’s cock against his.

“You’re one to talk,” he groaned, getting his hand into Jaskier’s hair and pulling him into a kiss. “Have you seen yourself, Professor?”

Jaskier suddenly pulled back, eyes wide and cheeks pink. “I- well- I mean I’m nothing close to- Your body is,” he huffed, seemingly at loss for words which was a very odd thing coming from Jaskier.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, bringing his hand to the small of the man’s back, and squinted. “You know you’re hot, right?” he asked seriously and witnessed Jaskier dissolve into a fit of giggles, ducking his head and blushing even harder.

“I’m- nah, I’m not-”

“ Jaskier ,” Geralt repeated with intent.

“I mean, I’m fine but I’m not- you’re like a, a- an underwear supermodel.”

Geralt snorted. “Right, they do love bodies covered with scar tissue in underwear magazines,” he said self-deprecatingly, making Jaskier frown.

“Don’t do that. You’re beautiful,” he chastised.

“If you say so-” Geralt shrugged.

“I do say so. Les Dessous de Beauclair can go fuck itself,” Jaskier replied and Geralt snorted again.

“Point still stands,” Geralt said. “You’re hot.”

Jaskier looked away again, biting his lower lip. “Wh-,” he started and then closed his mouth right away.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head.

“Jaskier? I’m the one who isn’t much of a talker. There can’t be two of us,” he said, and Jaskier laughed, then hid his face in the crook of Geralt’s neck, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s shoulders.

“What do you like about me?” he asked, his voice so small Geralt barely heard him. He let a moment pass, wondering where to start and how. He slid a hand at the back of Jaskier’s neck, caressing the short strands of hair.

“This,” he said. “Your hair right here. It’s short but long enough that I can grab it,” he felt Jaskier smile against his neck.

” Kinky ,“ Jaskier whispered.

“And I like your eyes,” Geralt said, too focused on picking the right words to get sidetracked. “At the bar, I-” he hesitated, pacing himself. “I noticed your eyes first,” he said and swallowed.

Jaskier hugged him tighter. “I love your eyes too,” he mumbled into Geralt’s hair. "They’re incredible.”

Geralt managed to duck his head and press a soft kiss below Jaskier’s ear. “Your cheekbones,” he said, his mouth finding the sweet spot at the base of Jaskier’s neck. “Your shoulders,” he whispered, kissing Jaskier’s clavicle, loosening their embrace to keep going lower. “Your collarbones,” he nipped his teeth at the bone above Jaskier’s chest, “they’re really, really hot,” he said and Jaskier giggled, still hiding his face by pressing his forehead against Geralt’s temple.

Geralt brought his hands up Jaskier’s back and felt him shiver, Jaskier’s hips startling gently against his, bringing a soft moan from the both of them. “Your back,” he said, “I really love your back- and your ass, gods ,” he linked his hands behind Jaskier’s neck and rolled his hips, their moans echoing through the room. “ Ah , and those fucking arms of yours,” Geralt whispered. “Have you seen those arms?” he repeated, still softly rubbing their cocks together with slow movements of his hips and caressing Jaskier’s arm. “I’m sure you could lift me up with those arms,” he said and Jaskier groaned. “Would you like that?” he asked. “Would you- would you like to hold me up and fuck me?”

“Oh, fuck,” Jaskier moaned, his face pressed against Geralt’s cheek. “Fuck, fuck, yes, yes please, yes,” he begged, and Geralt grabbed the hair at the back of his neck and pulled just enough for Jaskier to whine with pleasure as they both rushed in an almost bruising kiss.

Jaskier had a hard time pulling away from Geralt, but finally managed to turn towards the bedside table to retrieve lube and condoms.

Geralt flushed himself against his back, tearing a moan from Jaskier as his hand directly went for Jaskier’s cock and Geralt’s dick rubbed against his ass.

“Oh fuck, yeah- yeah , we gotta do this some time too, darling,” he panted and Geralt groaned, grinding against him.

“You would like that?” he breathed, his voice low and coated with desire.

“Gods, I’d fuck you anyway you want, darling-” he moaned, “-but fffuck , if you keep going, there isn’t going to be much left of me.”

Geralt chuckled against him. He pulled back, freeing Jaskier from his embrace and sitting back against the wall.

Jaskier kneeled in between his legs and tore the package open, sliding the condom on his cock, realising after raising his eyes that he was under Geralt’s scrutiny.

“You okay?” he asked at the exact moment Geralt breathed “Come here.”

Somehow they crashed into each other, and yet fit each other’s shapes perfectly.

Geralt raised on his knees, thighs parted, Jaskier’s hands moving from his cock to his balls, making his hips jerk and his teeth close on Jaskier’s lower lip as he moaned. Jaskier slid his fingers further, caressing the sweet spot of Geralt’s perineum, making Geralt break the kiss as he gasped.

“Fuck, please, Jask-”

“I’ve got you,” Jaskier murmured, kissing him again and coating his fingers with lube.

Geralt tried his hardest not to jerk himself off here and now, attempting to focus on rubbing Jaskier’s cock while his other arm rested around the man’s neck.

Jaskier teased the rim of his asshole and got a quick return on his investment as Geralt pulled a little harder on his dick, tearing a moan from his lips. He chuckled a bit breathlessly and slid a finger inside Geralt easily. It didn’t take long at all before a second finger joined the first.

“You okay, darling?” Jaskier breathed and Geralt nodded against his cheek.

For a while, they stayed like this, settled against each other, Jaskier slowly fingering him until Geralt couldn’t stop clenching around his fingers and asking for more.

When three fingers curved into him and caressed his prostate, Geralt thought he was going to come undone. “Fuck- fuck, fuck, fuck, Jaskier-,”

“Good?” Jaskier asked a bit worriedly.

“Fuck, yes , good,” Geralt bit in a tone that was halfway between “how the fuck could it be anything but good” and “don’t you fucking dare stop” , making Jaskier laugh again.

“Okay, darling- still love the enthusiasm,” Jaskier said while Geralt whined and begged until finally, fucking finally, Jaskier agreed he was ready. Jaskier slid between his thighs, his strong, well-built arms around Geralt’s middle and Geralt realised it was probably the first time he had been held like this in his entire life.

“Touch yourself for me?” Jaskier asked, his mouth against Geralt’s before Geralt shook his head.

“Can’t- gonna come if I do,” he breathed and Jaskier kissed him again.

“Please?” he asked. “I want to make sure it feels good,” he whispered, holding onto Geralt’s middle tighter.

Geralt complied and before long Jaskier’s hips were rising to meet his body. He felt the tip of Jaskier’s cock slide between his buttcheeks and touch the soft of his ass and he startled, pulling away and pressing back against Jaskier just as fast.

“Fuck,” he swore as Jaskier whined. “Please, Jask,” he moaned as the hand on his cock started shaking. He then felt the tip of Jaskier’s cock against him again, and the steady push of Jaskier’s hips as the head of Jaskier’s cock entered him. He whined as Jaskier pushed further and lowered himself as slow as he could with the lone strength of his thighs and Jaskier’s arms wrapped around his waist.

“Ok?” Jaskier asked breathlessly. A gasp was all Geralt managed. His thoughts were an endless thread of fuck fuck fuck he couldn’t sort out in any order. “Yea- ah,” he broke, “ fuck ,”

“Is it too much?” Jaskier asked, “I can- I can stop, do you need me to stop?”

“ Don’t ,” Geralt moaned, clenching every single muscle in his body to keep Jaskier against him and eliciting a cry from Jaskier. His arms were around Jaskier’s shoulders, his forehead against the man’s temple. Geralt was holding onto him with everything he got.

“I just-” he tried to take a slow long breath thinking about everything he had learned through meditation and managed one ragged breath. “You’re a lot,” he managed in a sigh, clenching around Jaskier despite how much he tried to relax.

Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat half-way between pleasure and laughter. “I get that all the time,” he said cheekily.

“Don’t- don’t make me laugh,” he said, chuckling breathlessly, and Jaskier joined him, both trying to breathe through the involuntary clenching of Geralt’s inner muscles and the accidental movements of Jaskier’s hips.

They laughed into each other’s mouths as they kissed, mouth open, tongues licking each other’s lips, teeth biting softly, teasingly. When they were both ready, Jaskier pulled himself down as he helped Geralt raise on his knees and they met again, moaning and groaning.

“You ok?” Jaskier whispered again and by then, Geralt had no fucking idea. He had never felt so tense and relaxed at once, uncomfortable but so fucking fantastic. His nerves and his ass were on absolute fire but it was good, it was good, it was so, so-

“So good,” he growled, aware that every part of his body was probably shaking in Jaskier’s arms. “ Ah , don’t stop,” he moaned, and Jaskier, incredible, astonishing, wonderful Jaskier did not stop .

Their hips moved in sync, feeding Geralt with the kind of friction he had never imagined could feel so good.

He let himself relax entirely into Jaskier’s embrace, sliding against the whole length of Jaskier’s body, pressing torso against torso, his forehead against Jaskier’s sweaty fringe, their noises brushing, their mouths breathing the same air.

“Ye-ah?” Jaskier moaned. “You like it? You really- ah , fuck- you- ah , you feel so good, does it feel good, tell me-” he rambled, far, so far from actually needing the reassurance.

Geralt groaned. “ Yes ,” he whined, “I like it, I like it, I like you , please,” and Jaskier whined and then did something- Geralt didn’t know, something, somehow, maybe went harder or faster or different, but he pulled and pushed and Geralt lost his fucking mind. He did it again and again, kissing Geralt, licking his neck, biting on his earlobe, caressing his nipples, bruising his hips in his grasp, pulling on his cock, whispering into his ear and making him whine and moan and shout until Geralt begged to be undone.

“I’ve got you, love,” Jaskier said, “I’ve got you.” Jaskier pulled harder on his hips in a half-broken groan, making Geralt slip towards him a little more.

Geralt arched his back, moaning in delight from the new angle. His neck was left exposed for Jaskier to kiss and lick, and breathe against Geralt’s skin. Every cell in Geralt’s body was burning and electric, and boiling. Everything felt so good and so much and so Jaskier , so he begged, begged again, and again for Jaskier to hold him and kiss him and fill him as he came, and so he did. He came, held, and kissed, and filled, and perfect, and Jaskier came, too, gasping into his mouth as they fell into each other.

For a moment, there was no other sound apart from the unsteady breathing and an occasional moan from the two of them as they slowly, comfortably, came back down to earth. Jaskier moved first, turning his head to kiss Geralt’s cheek, pushing his long white hair away from his face, and Geralt turned his head lazily towards him, leaning into a kiss.

“You ok?” Jaskier whispered, probably for the hundredth time and Geralt, for the thousandth time, hummed and nodded. Soon they would detach from each other, groaning from the discomfort of their sensible muscles, their come-dirtied bellies and lube-stained sheets anything but glamorous.

But for the time being, they laid their heads against each other’s shoulders, eyes closed, content with the feeling of holding and being held.

“Hey,” Jaskier whispered.

Geralt hummed questioningly.

“Stay for breakfast?” Jaskier asked. He missed the soft smile that drew on Geralt’s lips.

“Hmm.”

[lastbluetardis]

And Baby Makes Seven (10/?)

Things don’t always go as planned. Faced with an unexpected pregnancy, James and Rose have to work quickly to get everything prepared for their fifth child, and to prepare their eldest children for a new addition to the family. Ten x Rose AU, Soulmates AU. Tagging @doctorroseprompts

This chapter: teen, 5200 words

Ages of the Tyler-McCrimmons at the start of the chapter: James: 39, Rose: 34, Ainsley: 9, Sianin: 6, Twins: 7.5 months

If you like reading my stories, consider leaving me a tip? Or leave a reply on this post to tell me what you thought? And as always, reblogs are very much appreciated so more people can see this.

AO3 | Perfectly Matched Series

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 |

Now that Ainsley had been let in on the secret of the new baby, Rose and James didn’t need to work as hard to uphold the facade. Sianin, bless her little heart, had no idea what was going on, but was glad that her mum wanted to laze around the house, which translated into Sianin getting plenty of snuggles on the sofa as they watched cartoons.

James seemed to be taking “over-protective” to a whole new level. He jumped at the chance to care for their children, either taking over or joining Rose in all bedtime routines. If a twin awoke in the middle of the night, he sprang out of bed before her groggy brain could even realize Hannah or Maddie had made a sound.

But when she brought it up to him, he flashed her a charming grin that never failed to melt her, and simply asked, “You’re upset that I want to care for my children?”

And really, when he put it like that, her irritation with him evaporated. She had to keep reminding him to let her help, though, lest the twins forget they had a mother.

James and Rose also used the opportunity to place more responsibilities on Sianin’s shoulders, to the girl’s displeasure. Since Rose wasn’t supposed to do most of the normal household chores, James taught Sianin how to vacuum, wash the floors, and a host of other minor but daily tasks.

Rose, though guilty that she was lounging around the house all day when she ought to be cleaning, was glad that Sianin was at least performing the tasks James assigned to her with minimal complaining. 

Ainsley, meanwhile, took it upon herself to help her dad with anything he was doing and to check in with her mum to see if Rose needed anything.

“How long d’you have to rest for?” Ainsley asked as she settled in with Rose and Maddie on the couch for her nightly reading. Hannah was already in her crib for the night, but Maddie was stubbornly refusing to fall asleep in favor of getting snuggles and kisses from her mother.

“A few weeks,” Rose replied, blotting at the drool dripping down her baby’s chin with her jumper sleeve. Maddie scrunched her nose and turned her face away. “We’ve got a follow-up appointment next week to check the status of the bleed.”

Ainsley tilted her head to the side. “Why do you always do that? Make it plural? You said we’ve got an appointment, not I’ve got an appointment.”

Rose snorted. “You’re right. But your dad is joining me at the appointment. Plus, it’s an appointment to check on the baby, who is both his and mine. It feels wrong to claim sole ownership.”

“That’s actually really cute,” Ainsley admitted. She sighed dreamily. “Dad takes such good care of you when you’re unwell.”

A flood of adoration overtook Rose, squeezing her chest until inexplicable tears burned her eyes. She listened to her husband, who was in the kitchen assembling the girls’ lunches for tomorrow. He was humming to himself as he worked, the notes slightly flat and offkey.

“Yeah, he does,” Rose croaked.

“I hope I find someone just like him one day,” Ainsley said with a wistful sigh.

“I hope that for you, too.” Rose kissed Ainsley’s temple. “I hope that for all of my children.”

“How do you think it’ll work with Sianin and her soulmates?”

“What do you mean?”

Ainsley shrugged. “It’s hard to imagine having two soulmates. How can she love two people as equally and intensely as you love Dad?”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, eh? Who knows whether Sianin’s relationship with Elena and Juliette will evolve into a romantic one.”

“I suppose,” Ainsley allowed. “But for argument’s sake, how would it work if they decided to let it be romantic? It seems so strange to be involved in a relationship with two people.”

“Strange as it might be to you, it’s normal for others. Love in all its forms is a beautiful thing, remember that.”

“It feels like it would be hard to make sure you aren’t showing favoritism to one versus another,” Ainsley said.

“Well, your dad and I have four children—we love you all with equal intensity and try not to show favoritism. I imagine it’s something similar.”

“Hmm. I don’t think I would want to be in a relationship with more than one person,” Ainsley admitted. “I want one person who is mine, and mine alone.”

“That’s perfectly reasonable,” Rose said. “You need to decide what works for you, just as Sianin will decide what works for her.”

Ainsley was quiet for several long seconds, but Rose could practically hear her daughter’s mind churning. While she let Ainsley think, she used the time to give kisses to the baby in her arms. The baby was finally getting drowsy; she had her cheek planted above Rose’s left breast, and her head rose and fell with her mother’s breaths. Any time Maddie’s eyes began to droop shut, she wrenched them open and gazed up at her mother.

Being the singular focus of her baby’s attention always made her heart squeeze with love and gratitude. She was the whole world to this tiny, perfect little human, and for a moment, as Rose got lost in her baby’s blue eyes, Maddie was her whole world, too.

“Do you think her eyes will stay blue?” Ainsley asked.

“I think so,” Rose said. “Usually if they change, they would’ve changed by now. All of my babies’ eyes started out blue. In Sianin’s case, they turned brown after a couple months. Yours stayed more or less the same color. And the twins’ appear to be brightening… they kind of look like Gran’s, don’t they?”

Ainsley peered down at Maddie. The baby shifted her sleepy eyes to her big sister, and offered a smile that widened into a yawn. Ainsley snorted and rubbed Maddie’s back. The baby grunted and wiggled around before face-planting into the crevice between Rose’s breasts.

“Silly girl,” Ainsley murmured. “Yeah, they do look like Gran’s. How does that work? I mean, I sort of know how it works. But her DNA is half you, half Dad, and yet she has Gran’s eyes. And apparently I look like Dad’s mum.”

“My DNA is half my mum and dad, and your dad’s DNA is half his mum and dad,” Rose said. “There are bits of all of our past family swirling inside of us, and it’s a lottery draw as to which traits get passed on to a baby.”

“That’s kind of neat,” Ainsley said. “It’s so fascinating that so many things have to happen perfectly to create a baby.” She paused, then continued in a rush, “We had the talk at school today. Y’know, how the girls and boys should be starting puberty soon, if they haven’t started already. One girl in my class had her first period months ago, which is mad. She’s nine! They also explained how in a couple years we’ll all be sexually mature and be able to make babies and so we all have to be very, very careful to prevent unwanted pregnancies as we’re exploring our bodies.

“They went over how a baby is made. Just the basics. Y’know, penis in vagina, sperm meets egg equals baby. I didn’t know that men released millions and millions of sperm when they had sex. That seems like overkill, doesn’t it?”

“What seems like overkill?”

Rose jumped at the sound of James’s voice right behind her. Her mind whirred, trying to wrap itself around the sudden turn their conversation had taken, as well as the fact that her baby was old enough to be learning the basics of human reproduction in school already.

“Did you know you made and released millions of sperm at a time when you have sex?” Ainsley asked, her eyes bright.

James was silent for a beat, cheeks pinkening and mouth going slack. He cleared his throat. “Er… yeah. Yeah, I did know that. But where did you learn that?”

“They gave us the talk in school.”

“Ah,” he said, wincing.

“Why do you make millions of sperm when only one will actually fertilize the egg?” Ainsley asked, cocking her head to the side. She then glanced down at Maddie, who was drooling into Rose’s shirt. “Er, or I guess two?”

“Actually, it was just one sperm,” Rose corrected.

Ainsley frowned. “But… there are two babies.”

“But they’re identical,” James said. “Genetically, they’re the same. Basically, one of my sperm met your mum’s egg, then that egg divided somewhat incorrectly to begin producing two separate babies with the same exact genetic code.”

“Oh. So your egg accidentally made a clone of itself?”

Rose snorted. “Something like that.”

Ainsley looked impressed. Then she said, “But still. Why make millions of sperm? That’s a bit wasteful, isn’t it?”

“It’s all about statistics,” James answered, scrubbing at the back of his neck. “Would you rather try to hit a target with one arrow or many? What if that one arrow is defective somehow? Or your aim is slightly off? By releasing tens of millions of sperm in one go, you increase the odds of fertilization; and the egg can be a bit choosier by only allowing the strongest of the bunch to fertilize it and begin making a baby.”

“Oh. That makes a lot of sense, actually,” Ainsley said. “What stops all of the sperm from penetrating the egg and creating a million babies?”

“Once a sperm meets the egg, it basically walls itself off from getting fertilized again,” James explained. “When sperm meets egg, a biological cascade effect begins. The woman’s egg recognizes it’s been fertilized, so it begins producing chemicals and hormones that tell the rest of the body to prepare for the oncoming baby. And it shuts down egg production so there’s no chance of multiple fertilized eggs trying to grow a baby after one is already growing. Imagine how cramped it would get in there. And imagine how hard it would be on the woman to have multiple babies all at different stages of development in her uterus. Evolution has figured out how to control everything so that doesn’t happen.”

“That’s so cool,” Ainsley said.

“It is a bit cool,” James said, smiling.

“It’s weird that women are born with all the eggs they’ll ever have, but men keep making more and more sperm ‘til they die. That’s way more efficient. What if something happens to the woman and her egg supply is damaged? At least with men, they can regenerate their sperm.” Ainsley cocked her head at her father. “In theory, you could help make a baby when you’re a hundred, right?”

James choked. “I… well… yes, technically. But my baby-making partner would also be a hundred—well, ninety-five—and since she would no longer be fertile, I wouldn’t be helping to make any more babies. Besides, the… ehm… the quality of sperm deteriorates over time. It’s not usually a good idea to procreate after a certain age. And, ehm… the act of making a baby gets… ehm… more difficult in old age. So… ehm… I’m not sure we’d… that we’d… Although I would truly love to be with your mother in that way in our old age, statistically it’s not all that probable so I’m not really expecting to… not that I wouldn’t want to… but…”

Rose kneaded the heel of her hand into her eyes as James’s gob ran without stop and without filter. She eventually reached over and pinched him. He squeaked, but snapped his mouth shut. Ainsley, meanwhile, was in stitches on the sofa, cackling madly as both her parents’ cheeks blazed.

oOoOo

Two weeks and two days after learning she had subchorionic hemorrhage, Rose walked into her OB-GYN, this time with her husband at her side. Despite the fact that her bleeding and cramping had stopped nearly a week ago, she was a little nervous to see what Elizabeth would have to say.

James must have sensed her anxiety, because he threaded their fingers together and rubbed at the back of her thumb while they waited for Rose’s name to be called. He talked to her about nothing in particular, filling the silence between them. Rose let the soothing rhythm of his voice calm her until Elizabeth appeared in the waiting room and called name, gesturing for her to follow.

“How are you feeling?” the midwife asked as she took Rose’s height and weight. “You’ve lost some weight since I saw you two weeks ago. Nothing worrying, but something to keep an eye on. Especially since you ought to be putting on weight as your pregnancy progresses.”

“My appetite is still finicky,” Rose admitted. “Nausea is mostly gone though. I’m hoping that will help. But otherwise, I feel fine.”

“Any bleeding? Cramping? Dizziness?”

Rose shook her head and stepped off the scale, following Elizabeth down the corridor to an exam room. James followed silently and settled into the chair beside the exam table. An ultrasound machine already sat in the corner of the room, and, familiar with the routine, Rose reclined on the table and exposed her belly.

Déjà vu settled over her as she remembered the utter terror of two weeks ago, certain her midwife was about to confirm her worst fear. Her pulse thundered in her ears and she began to tremble as her mind warred with itself, half of it trying to calm her, and the other half spinning out of control. James scooted his chair closer to her and leaned his elbow onto the table above her head. His warmth and scent surrounded her.

“You’re okay, love,” he whispered, kissing her forehead softly. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

“What a cute little bump,” Elizabeth cooed, squirting cool gel onto said bump between Rose’s hips. “Let’s see the cute little baby inside it, eh?”

Rose reached over and grabbed James’s free hand, linking their fingers together and squeezing tightly. He bent down to kiss her forehead again, then he brought their joined hands to his mouth to kiss her knuckles one at a time.

“Here we are,” Elizabeth said, tapping a few buttons into her keyboard.

Rose looked at the monitor and her heart clenched at the sight of her baby. They seemed to be about the same size as before, but Elizabeth was pleased with the baby’s appearance.

“They’re rather active,” the midwife noted, readjusting the probe when the shifting baby went out of focus. “Are you able to feel them, Rose?”

“Not yet,” she croaked. She desperately wanted to, though. She wanted that little flutter of life between her hips. She wanted the undeniable proof that her baby was alive and healthy and growing, because what if the scan was somehow wrong? Rose squeezed her eyes shut and focused deep within herself, trying to sense any ripple of movement in her uterus.

Her eyes shot open when the midwife tapped a few buttons and the heartbeat echoed around the room. 

James let out a soft, “Oh,” his grip on her hand turning vice-like.

Rose glanced up at her husband, but his gaze was locked on the monitor, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. The sight of them made her own eyes prickle. She would never tire of seeing the awe on his face as he beheld their children. He treated each day with their kids as though it was the most precious gift he’d been given; this baby was no exception, and Rose could already see how in love her husband was with the tiny fetus inside her. She could plainly see him, seven months from now, weeping as he held their newborn for the first time, curling his body around theirs as though he could physically shield their baby from any harm the world might bring to them. She could see him sitting with the baby in the dead of night, half asleep himself, yet holding their small child to his chest as he rocked them.

God, she wanted that, was impatient for these visions to come true. Even though she regularly saw him holding and snuggling the children they already had, Rose was desperate to give him his fifth child and bring completion to their not-so-little-anymore family.

“Our baby looks healthy,” James said, his voice hoarse. Rose blinked away the visions in her mind’s eye and was brought back to the present, where her husband was no longer looking at the baby on the screen, but rather down at Rose. She flashed him a small smile that he returned before he focused on the midwife, his gaze intense. “But how is Rose? How is the hemorrhage? Is she healthy and safe?”

“Let’s take a look at that next.” Elizabeth zoomed out away from the baby, and instead shifted the focus of the ultrasound probe to the gray masses surrounding the baby. “Here we go.”

After taking a few seconds to orient James and Rose to what she was talking about, Elizabeth pointed to a black blob along the edge of the placenta. “Here’s the clot. And yes, it is just a clot now. It appears to no longer be actively bleeding, which is excellent news. The placenta is intact, which is also great news. Sometimes a concern is that the bleeding will cause the placenta to pull away from the uterine wall, but that is not the case here. I am very, very happy with what I’m seeing.”

Rose let out a deep breath. James, too, relaxed a fraction.

“Can I go back to business as usual?” Rose asked.

“Let’s not be hasty,” James answered instead.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Rose drawled, reaching up to pat his cheek.

Elizabeth pursed her lips around a grin. She wiped the expression off her face and said, “I see no reason why not. Obviously you are limited as any other pregnant woman is, and I would try to take it easy for the next couple weeks as the clot dissolves, but yes, you should be able to resume all activities as normal.”

Rose was fairly certain she’d read between the lines correctly, yet she asked, “Sex too?”

James let out a little squeak that had Rose rolling her eyes. Elizabeth’s entire profession revolved around people having had biologically-successful sex. They themselves were here because they’d had successful sex. Nutter.

“Yes, you may resume your sexual activities,” the midwife answered.

Rose nodded. She hadn’t been in the mood for sex lately, too concerned was she with the baby and will following the instructions to rest. She knew that James’s sex drive had mirrored her own in his double concern for her and the baby. While she still didn’t have the desire to drag James straight into bed when they got home, Rose was glad it was at least an option, if the mood struck. She’d find other ways to satisfy James if or when his sex drive returned while hers remained elusive.

“Is Rose okay to travel?” James asked. “We were planning to take the kids up to Scotland for half-term break next week. Probably travelling by train.”

“I’ve been cleared to shag your brains out, but no, the movement of a train will be far too vigorous for my delicate condition,” Rose muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

James flicked her nose but didn’t reply.

“Yes, she should be fine,” Elizabeth said, pretending not to have heard their exchange. “Just listen to your body, Rose. It will do a good job of telling you what it needs. Try not to overexert. Rest when you’re tired. Make sure you’re getting enough vitamins and nutrients. Things like that.”

“Thanks,” Rose said. “And while we’re talking about it, do you happen to have any connections with midwives in Scotland? Near Glasgow? James and I are going to be relocating our family. The move isn’t happening next week or anything; we’re getting the kids used to the area and the house we’ll be moving into.”

“And you say I’m chatty,” James teased.

Rose rolled her eyes.

“Funnily enough, I do,” Elizabeth said. “One of my very close friends. We went to school together. I can send you her contact information, as I don’t have it on hand right now. I can also reach out to her to see if she can see you next week, if you’d like? A consultation visit, mostly, assuming she is taking new patients and is near enough to where you’ll be living.”

“That’d be brilliant,” Rose said, accepting the moist towels the midwife handed to her and cleaning off her belly.

Elizabeth made a few notes on her computer, then printed out another scan of the baby for them, despite them having one from two weeks ago. She also scheduled Rose’s twenty-week appointment, which would be shortly after the holidays. Rose was already impatient for January sixth to be here; it would be the appointment when she and James would learn the sex of their baby, something Rose always loved learning. But this time was the added game of being able to tease James for his apparent inability to produce a Y-chromosomed sperm. As though that was something he could control. (A fact he liked to remind her of often.)

“As always, you can call us if there are any questions or concerns,” Elizabeth said as she walked them to the front lobby. “But I’m very pleased with everything I’ve seen today.”

After thanking her, James slipped his fingers between Rose’s and guided her out to their car.

oOoOo

The following week, James and Rose willed themselves to have endless reserves of patience as they readied their children for the trip to Scotland. It felt like they had to pack up their entire house to ensure they had enough supplies for all the kids, including toys and games in addition to the endless articles of clothing.

Robert, bless him, was accompanying them, to help with child care and to give his opinion on the work they might want done to the manor house. James had reached out to half a dozen different remodeling companies to have them come out and take a look at the work he and Rose wanted done; they were due to arrive at the end of the week, since James and Rose wanted the first few days to walk around the house and make lists of repairs and upgrades that could be done, both internally and externally to the grounds.

The train ride went as well as could be expected when travelling with four children. Ainsley was content to read for the entire journey, but Sianin loudly proclaimed she was bored barely an hour into the trip. The twins were awake and wanting to crawl around, but there was only so much space in the compartment car. James, Rose, and Robert took turns walking a fussing baby up and down the length of the train, introducing the infant to cooing passengers who fawned over how beautiful she was. The passengers were extra delighted to realize they were identical twins.

Finally, the train docked in Glasgow, where the Tyler-McCrimmons picked up a rental vehicle and made the half-hour drive out of the city proper to the manor house.

The excitement at the prospect of permanently living in the “castle” evaporated Ainsley and Sianin’s travel exhaustion. As soon as James unlocked the front door, they bolted inside and began chattering to each other about where their playroom should be and calling dibs on the bedrooms.

“I want this one,” Sianin announced, gesturing to the master suite.

“That one is off-limits,” James said lightly, tweaking the end of her braid. “Available to mummies and daddies only. Same with the guest suite on the other side. That’s for when Gran or Grandad stay to visit.”

Sianin deflated a bit, but perked back up when James reminded her that there were plenty of other bedrooms to choose from.

Rose, meanwhile, immediately began to visualize how she would decorate. The current color scheme of the manor was dark, but not gloomily so. Even still, Rose thought that brightening the wall colors from burgundy to a rich cream or ivory would help open up the space and blend the rooms together. It would also make the house feel cleaner, and with five children tearing it apart, Rose knew she and James could use all the help they could get in that department.

The floors were in excellent shape, having been replaced shortly after Ainsley was born. Robert had come to her and James when he was having the work performed so they could help pick out the color and style of the various hardwood, tile, and carpeted floors in all of the rooms. Belatedly, Rose realized that Robert had done so because he knew this home would belong to them in the near future.

From the foyer, which was lit from the warm glow of the chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, Rose stared straight ahead into the formal dining room that used to be a ballroom; the kitchen extended beyond that through a set of wide oak doors that were currently closed. She already knew that the kitchen was huge and open, thanks to James’s grandmother having remodeled it to use up more of the defunct ballroom space. The kitchen housed a long table that would easily fit their large family; therefore, the formal dining room wouldn’t be necessary until they hosted holidays or had friends over. Otherwise, that could easily be a place for the children to do their homework.

To her right was what used to be a receiving room, but had evolved over the last century to be the living room. It was already furnished with a couch, a love seat, and a few reclining chairs placed strategically around a television. A fireplace sat along the far wall, and Rose could already see herself sitting in the rocking reclining chair and nursing her new baby, or snuggling with one of her other four children or husband as the fire crackled merrily beside them. Goosebumps prickled along Rose’s skin at the thought of her and James making love by the fireplace, a vision straight out of a Victorian romance novel.

Blinking away that fantasy for the time being, Rose continued her mental mapping of the manor. Behind the living room was another room that had been a different receiving room—most likely, she presumed, a space for the gentlemen when the ladies had overtaken the first receiving room. Because God forbid men enjoy their wives’ presence.

James’s parents had converted that into a study area for James; Rose thought it would make a nice playroom for their family. It had plenty of room to store the kids’ endless number of toys, and it had a closet where they could keep their games. The flooring in there was currently hardwood; Rose made a mental note to chat with James about replacing it with something softer.

Extending beyond the living room was a narrow hallway that opened up to what had once been servants’ quarters. Rose knew that James’s grandmother had remodeled it and created a larger footprint, converting the area into a spacious a guest suite; it was where Robert always slept when he visited, unable to stomach being in the master bedroom ever since he’d lost his wife.

To the left of the foyer was a long, wide corridor with several rooms branching off of it. One of those rooms was a library that Rose already knew Ainsley would practically make her second bedroom. Rose planned to outfit the room with a variety of comfortable furniture and a desk. Directly beside the library and connected with a door was a formal study; she figured James would like to make that his space, filling it with textbooks and knickknacks and turning it into a place he could mark papers and exams on the weekends or weeknights.

Directly beside the study and again connected through a set of doors was a secondary study. This one was at the end of the manor, and therefore had windows on the two external walls. It was filled with plenty of natural lighting and Rose thought it would make a perfect place for her to set up her art studio.

On the opposite side of the corridor from the library and studies were a series of small rooms. There was a half bath that was mostly just a closet with a toilet and a sink, and two small rooms that Rose genuinely didn’t know the purpose of. They were far too big to be closets, but a tad too small to be bedrooms. Rose didn’t care what they used to be; instead, she planned to make the rooms a nursery: one for the twins, until they were big enough for proper beds, and the other for the new baby. It would be perfect, since the last room at the end of the corridor was the master suite. 

Rose already knew the suite was enormous, yet it took her breath away to behold it. The room would easily fit their king-sized bed and all of their bedroom furniture, and still have room for more. Perhaps they could put a cushy rocking chair in this room as well as the nurseries; there could never be enough cozy furniture to cuddle her children, Rose thought.

There was a giant walk-in closet connected to the bedroom, as well as a double-vanity ensuite. The bathroom, too, was huge, outfitted with a tub and a walk-in shower stall; both the tub and shower had plenty of room for her and James to share, which would be perfect for intimate date nights.

Moving from room to room, Rose catalogued how she would arrange furniture and paint colors that would look good in each room and blend the entire ground floor of the house together. She took note of the flooring, and which rooms should be outfitted with carpets rather than hardwood floors or tile, or vice versa. When she and James helped Robert pick out the floors, they’d only had Ainsley; at the time, she hadn’t been able to imagine having five children. Now, she couldn’t imagine anything differently.

“I can see that beautiful mind of yours at work already.” James came up behind her as she weighed whether the library ought to be carpeted or left as it was with hardwood floor. He wrapped his arms around her waist and casually splayed a palm on her lower belly, kissing the side of her neck and sending pleasant tingles across her skin. “What are you thinking?”

Rose leaned into him, tilting her head back to catch his gaze. His eyes were bright with joy and soft with love; she found herself falling in love with him all over again. She turned in his arms, draping her forearms over his shoulders.

“I’m thinking,” she murmured, pushing up onto her toes so that her mouth hovered mere inches from his, “that this already feels like home.”

And though she planted a kiss to his lips as she finished speaking, his answering smile was dazzling.

[ariadneamare]

a playlist for you | levihan

word count: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ audience only, angst

a/n: so i'm not really good at writing nsfw so this is all i can do for now (?) let me know what u think! < about the story i mean and not the nsfw HAHAHA ok anyway here it is

Day 1 // Honne

"You'll always be my day one," she whispered at his sleeping form. The two met nine months ago at a party Hanji's friend held for the fourth of July. It took her hours to decide if she wanted to go. Between the thesis that had to be done and the tempting bottles of vodka on the picture Petra sent, she came to a conclusion. 

In that very moment, that very temptation lead her to a good outcome. A grumpy midget. 

They both decided to just be friends with benefits. For Hanji's part she did not know as to how it worked. Do they just fuck and fist bump after? 

The sex was insanely good, but the thing that came after? Feelings. Feelings were what came after. 

Everything hit different with Levi. Something about the way he dragged the tip of his cock along her opening as he whispered, "I love the way you scream my name," made her carve the features of his face on her mind. Something about that very gesture the first night they met stuck with her. 

"Day zero when I was no one," she continued. Taking her index finger, she traced his brows and moved to his lips. "I'm nothing by myself, you and no one else." 

Falling for someone was the last thing she intended to do on her last year of university. She had dreams and goals to achieve, Hanji could not afford to fuck up. But, maybe this mistake might not be so bad. Maybe, it would even be the one thing that'll make her happy. Make her whole. Make her warm. 

"What are you mumbling?" 

"Oh, Levi!" As soon as she heard the voice, Hanji withdrew her hand to her chest. She looked at him with wide eyes, her voice small as she added, "I was just talking to myself." 

"C'mere," Levi's voice is husky as he pulls her in. His hands tighten around her waist and he hardens, her boobs pressed up against his chest. "Go to sleep." 

Hanji closes her eyes and tries to focus on falling asleep instead of the voice in her head. Last time she checked, fuck buddies don't cuddle in bed. 

Everytime // Ariana Grande 

"For the last time, Hanji!" Nifa shouts frustratedly, picking up her clothes on the floor and stuffing them in a duffel bag. "He's not good for you. He fucked a quarter of the med students! Goes partying almost every night, and ends up sucking someone's face by the time the party disperses." 

One drunken night, Hanji spilled everything to Petra and Nifa. From how she's falling for him, to the idea that she's willing to do anything for Levi. Absurd really, but it was love. At least that's what she thinks. 

"What about it? And he doesn't fuck strangers anymore. He told me so, it's all me now." Hanji tries to argue, taking the bag from her friend and zipping it up. "People are capable of changing, if you're not aware." 

"No! Listen to me, for once! Please, listen to me." 

"You listen to me!" She pulls at her hair, dragging her palm down her face and settling them by her hips. "Just this, allow me to have this." 

"I want to, but I can't, okay?" Nifa approaches her, placing both hands on each shoulder. "I can't let you when I know what he is like." 

"I know what he's like, and it's nothing compared to how you picture him." 

Nifa looks down for a second before dragging her eyes to meet Hanji's, "I can't do anything to tell you otherwise?" 

"No, I'm sorry." Hanji breathes, cupping her left cheek. "I can handle myself, okay?" 

"Okay." 

Thirty minutes later, Hanji sat on her bed alone. Staring up at the ceiling before saying, "they keep telling me to let go but I don't really let go." She closes her eyes, looking back at their moments together. 

Until now, everything remained blurry. No label, no assurance, no confession. Just a bunch of afternoons spent fucking in her dorm or his car. 

Hanji knew she deserved so much better than casually fucking and making out. But something about him made her stay. It sounded like something every person says before getting cheated on, yet she still did not budge. 

"Why, oh why does god keep bringing me back to you?" She whispers, slapping her cheeks repeatedly. 

Last Night // Lucy Spraggan 

"Last night I told you I lo—" Hanji tries to explain and apologize but he cuts her off. Raising a hand and standing up from his position on the bed. 

They booked a hotel room last night after going out. The two drank more than what they could handle. It took Levi 24 shots and 16 for Hanji before they got wasted. And wasted they were. 

Their arms were intertwined to keep balance, noise erupted from each other's mouths. Giggles from Hanji's part and grunts from the man. One thing lead to the next, the two had crazy drunk sex. Even though she was drunk, a part of her was still aware. 

Aware of how everything he did became even more attractive. The way he unbuttoned his dress shirt made her insides twist and turn. 

Last night, she even got to see a side of him he rarely showed. Most times when they had sex, Levi took control. But everything was different last night. He squirmed under her and moaned loudly, his eyes rolling back as his legs started to shake. 

After three rounds, the two sat in bed side by side. They stared at the city from the window. Enjoying the peace and cold the night brought. Hanji enjoyed counting the cars that passed, while Levi stared at her. 

It was impulsive, but she did not regret it as much as she expected. The three words came out of her mouth smoothly, and if he did not listen closely then he would not notice how it seemed so rehearsed. 

"Hanji, I am not the person for you." 

It hurt, but it was true. He only spoke of the truth, yet Hanji hated him. Levi could have lied, he could have told her he loved her too. But he didn't. And she should be grateful, she should be. Anger bubbled up inside her, anger for both of the people in the room. 

At him for being so… so him. For being everything yet nothing at the same. 

At her for allowing this, for not keeping her walls up. For being a fool. 

Thinking of You // Katy Perry

Levi tried. At best, he tried. 

For months, he noticed the way Hanji looked at him. He did not mean to assume, it was just too noticeable because it was how his mom looked at him.

Like he was too precious for the world. Like he was special. Like he was loved. 

He knew any time she would say those words, but he did not think it would be so soon. Levi has not prepared himself for anything. He did not know what to say or do. He's never experienced anything so pure ever since his mom. Most people regarded him in ways he knew how to handle. 

Either in respect or simply lust. With respect, he just had to reciprocate it. And lust, give them a dick and it was all good. 

But love, it was like calculus for an elementary student. Too complex and, in some cases, too much. 

And because he did not want to think about Hanji or the way she said I love you with her wide eyes, he went out to party. 

There he met Erwin. A buff man in a crisp suit. Not too many words were uttered, but moans were echoing in the bathroom of the bar. The guy was handsome and built as hell, who was Levi to reject a blessing? 

As he was being rammed, his hands on the sink for balance and mouth agape in pleasure, a certain person kept popping up on his mind. Even though Erwin kept pushing in so hard from the back that Levi's hands kept slipping off the sink, he could not help but think if Hanji slept with another person too. With that thought, it riled him up. He pushed his ass backwards to meet with Erwin's aggressive thrusts and in five more the two came in sync, muttering curses underneath their breaths. 

As they fixed themselves up, Erwin passed him a business card before leaving. He did not even check the words written before throwing it in the bin. The condom he threw seconds ago sat beside it and he cringed at that. 

"When I'm with him, I am thinking of you." He stared at his own reflection and scowled. What did he get himself into. 

Do I Wanna Know // Arctic Monkeys 

"Hey," he breathed, voice deep and slurred. Two empty bottles of gin stood on his coffee table. 

"What are you doing?" Hanji tried her best not to let her walls break. She knows when too much heartache is enough. 

"Crawling back to you," Levi chuckled before continuing. "Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? 'Cause I always do." 

"Levi, I can't do this right now." It has been about a month, and Hanji has learned. Nifa and Petra did not let her off easily despite crying for days. They lectured her for a week straight, but did not leave her side. They brought food, reminded her about assignments and even took her out on dinner dates. "I have to go." 

Build Me Up Buttercup // The Foundations 

"Levi, you cannot just build me up just to let me down." She pushed him away as he tried to hold on either side of her arm. Hanji was on her way to the cafeteria when Levi pulled her and dragged her to a secluded corner, asking if they could talk. 

"I'm sorry," he blurts out and it makes her pause, his forehead creases as he looks at her with pleading eyes. "Help me, I do not know how to do this." 

Hanji's eyes widen in horror, "what do you mean? Are you okay?" 

"This whole thing, this lo-love." 

It took every nerve inside of Hanji's body for her not to laugh at him. She found it weirdly cute. Sure, he broke her heart, but the man was clearly trying. 

"Is Levi 'I am not the person for you' Ackerman asking for my help?" She brought one hand under her chin, feigning brainstorming. 

"Oh, so you want to think hard? How about I give you something else that's hard?" He pulls her, his bulge meeting with her crotch. "But honestly though, what a simp you are." 

"So you want me to give you a hard time and reject you now? Make you wait for a year?" She smacks his chest. 

"No, I'm fine with waiting but I want you now." He kisses her cheek a couple of times before pressing his lips on hers. 

"Look at you, suddenly a softie," she teases as their noses meet. 

"Have I not always been one?" 

"Yeah, I kept wondering if fuck buddies usually cuddle after sex. Or give the other lunches that they made on their own. Or cleaning the dor—" 

"Okay, you made your point already, four eyes." Levi raises one hand to cup her cheeks, making her look at him in the eye. "I can't promise you something perfect from the books, but I am willing to give you everything that I am." 

"Such a sweet talker!" 

"Oh, whatever." 

[tailorvizsla]

A Proper Mandalorian Courtship - Chapter 1

Title: The Armorer and an Introduction Word Count: ~2350 Pairing: Paz x Reader Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Cursing, canon-typical violence, crack humor that’s also serious Summary: 

Mandalorian courtship is very simple: declare your interest in someone, spend time together if they reciprocate, and get married after a year or so. Getting married is even easier – simply swap the vows and announce it a few days later to the Tribe so you can all celebrate the happy news. Then spend the next few months fending off the nosy Elders (who all want to know when they can expect to hear more little feet on the ground). At the end of it all, Mandalorians court the same way the rest of the galaxy does.

Except for Paz Vizla. Despite his Traditionalist background, he goes about this courtship and marriage business in a very nontraditional way...a very, very, very nontraditional way. This can also be found at AO3. Chapters: 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

📚 My Master List 📚 Author’s Notes:

This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter story in a very long time. 

I’ve been working on this since February. It’s been finished for a few weeks now, but I’ve been procrastinating in posting because I have had such a hard time justifying why Paz behaves the way he does even though we only see him for like 3 seconds in the series. I’m not sure if anyone else does this, but I like having a reason to write a story, even if it’s just to get the fluff out. For this, I wanted to flesh out Paz’s character for future works, but I have had such a hard time figuring out the words for it that I just...didn’t post. It felt wrong to continue forward without being able to explain to myself why he does what he does. Something that @plexflexico said in one of their responses to a review I left resonated with me and finally inspired me to post this publicly.

“Paz might have had less than a minute of screen time, but that time was VERY enlightening because both scenes were at moments of great tension and high emotion. I felt that any man who could succinctly put his people’s plight into words, and was so angry over this betrayal by someone who should have known better that there was no way this was simply a brute. This is a man who thinks and feels, deeply.”

This. This is exactly what I couldn’t find the words for. This, to me, is Paz Vizla. I have seen stories/HCs that portray him as a brute in an attempt to show him as a strong, confident, and masculine character. I am not fond of that portrayal because it lacks depth. I don't see that from a man whose culture embraces competency and skill before gender or sex. For those of you who have not read Asterism, go do it now, I promise you will love every single word. @plexflexico perfectly captures every emotion and thought of each scene just perfectly. This is Grade Amazing Super Plus Rank writing and Plex deserves an award for their work. And also for the inspiration because her Paz is the man everyone who wants a man deserves to have in their life.

The Foundry is the most sacred place for any Tribe blessed enough to have one of its own. It is the physical manifestation of the Resol'nare: education and armor, self-defense, the tribe, the language, and the leader. Here, children and new recruits receive their first set of beskar'gam and swear their oaths to follow the path, making the Foundry the spiritual birthplace of every member of the Tribe.

At night, when the work is finished, and the flames are dimmed, the young and old gather within so they may learn from and educate one another. Most importantly, this is where most individuals begin their first lessons in Mando'a, under the guidance of the Elders. The foundry is where the armaments are made and dispensed for the protection of each person and the Tribe as a whole. When a hunter returns with their offerings, they return to the Foundry, and disperse it to those who depend upon them for sustenance and care. Finally, the Foundry serves as a place for the leadership to gather.

Armorer has had the distinct honor and privilege of being both armorer and leader to her people for many years, though she is now only the armorer for the tribe. Upon joining with tribe Marell, she relinquished her role as the Alor. However, the respect and authority she commands is not diminished in any capacity. Should Alor Dezha not be available to decide on a course of action, the Tribe will come to her, and her decision will be both supported and respected. Dezha respects her a great deal, and he will often seek her opinion if his path is unclear. Despite the differences in their interpretations of the Oath, they have come to live in harmony with one another. They strengthen what is weak in each other, and that is how it should be in a flourishing Tribe.

Tonight, she once more has the honor of being part of a marriage ceremony. Lifting her heavy hammer, Armorer brings it down onto the glowing ingot of metal, watching as it flattens and spreads under her blow. She continues to strike the metal with slow, methodical precision until it reaches the proper thickness. Then the Armorer takes it back to the flame, where she allows it to glow blazing white. It only takes a few moments, and she returns it to the anvil. The steady clang clang of her hammer is punctuated only by the occasional trip to the flames.

The union of two Mandalorians in marriage is – and always has been – a joyous occasion, for that union brings forth stability for the children and the Tribe. Traditionally, the parents take turns hunting, or if the Tribe has the numbers, both parents will hunt together, and leave their children in the care of the rest of the family. Having that one trusted person, the one who knows their every strength and weakness by their side, leads to success, both in the field and at home.

She pauses once more to check the ingot. When she sees it is properly folded, she divides it in half, and begins to form each blade precisely with her smaller hammer. Two Mandalorians, forged into one soul and body by marriage, whether they are together, or they are apart. Two blades, made from a single piece of steel, to symbolize that union. When they are formed to her satisfaction, she takes the blades to the oil vat and quenches them, a satisfying hiss escaping the bubbling liquid.

Then she returns to the forge, narrowing one of the flames to begin the differential tempering process. Here, the tang and the edges of the blades will be hardened to resist shattering, yet the spines will remain flexible, so that they may flex as needed. Once joined, the couple hardens themselves to outsiders; instead, they will turn their affection and respect inward, so they may grow together. Where one is brittle, the other is flexible, and together, they become stronger than they would be individually. She withdraws the first blade from the flame just as the pale amber color creeps to the edges of the blade and plunges it directly into the water bath to cool.

It takes hours to sharpen the ceremonial blades on the grinding belts, but she works steadily and carefully, honing the edges with precision. The hilts are left bare; they will be wrapped by the parties entering the marriage. When they speak their vows, they will exchange blades, so they may carry a piece of the other with them when they are physically parted. She nestles the blades into separate boxes lined with soft fabric. When she delivers the blades tonight, the newlyweds will handle the rest on their own. Armorer lowers the heat of the flame before she returns to her quarters. There she draws the curtain across her living space. Exhaling, she takes a seat at her low table with a pot of hot tea to await being summoned by the Elders to acknowledge the vows. Her shoulders are tense and tight. It is a good sign of hard work.

It has been many years since she has witnessed a proper Mandalorian courtship unfold and blossom into marriage. The Armorer has known from the start that Paz would be the one to fully embrace the traditional ways. Now, he has chosen to make himself an example to the younger Mandalorians and enter the bonds of matrimony. Her heart swells with pride as she imagines the future progeny they will gift to the Tribe, whether they are born or found. However, she takes the time to close her eyes and pray to the spirits. The newlyweds will need guidance.

Hopefully, the wedding night will not result in nearly as much structural damage as the courtship had.

-

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The first time Paz ever laid eyes upon you was shortly after the Armorer had finished negotiations to join with yours. It took nearly three weeks of negotiations, but your Tribe had ultimately yielded. No sane alor would turn away a dozen Hunters and their children, anyway. Paz admits that he did not find you all that impressive at first. You were – and still are - pretty average. Your armor at the time consisted of a bes’kar helmet and a steel chestplate that looked like the Armorer’s. Everything else was made of leather.

Tradesperson, he thought to himself, and he put you out of his mind.

As time went on, Paz came to like you, and even enjoy spending a few minutes with you here and there as his duties allowed. Even though you openly admitted that were an average warrior (at best), you did your job freakishly well. You had made your desire for a large family vocal, and that, combined with your skills, had caught the attention of several Hunters visiting to deliver the latest news. According to the Elders, the offers of marriage had come flooding in the instant you completed your first hunt, even though you hadn’t completed it until your twenty-third birthday.

When the average Mandalorian completed their first hunt by their nineteenth.

And Paz completed his on his seventeenth.

It didn’t take long for him to understand how you earned the loving-yet-frighteningly-accurate nickname shu’shika from the Tribe – you truly are a tiny disaster. You are dearly loved by your Tribe, but there is a tendency for things to break while you are around.

You are stubborn to a fault. That Paz can deal with. Over the past thirty or so years, he has had plenty of practice to out-stubborn his subordinates, and he always wins. The same holds true with his bounties. With you? There have been a few situations where he has come dangerously close to cracking and losing his temper. It is only your terrible self-defense skills and his affection for you that keep him from simply putting you in a headlock until you submit.

Paz sometimes wonders if you provoke him on purpose because you know he will not throw fists with someone who lacks proper training. He takes no pleasure in winning a fight if it was never a true fight to begin with.

Far too often, you get mouthy with him, to the point where he sometimes wants to grab you around the waist and launch you straight into the lake for being such a brat. You are never truly disrespectful, but you have no problem telling him what you think. Even when he does not ask for your opinion. He does, however, appreciate your honesty with him, since others are usually too intimidated by him to be as direct as you.

You’re kriffing fearless, to the point of recklessness. His threats to launch you into the lake have gone from true threats to playful teasing, and it always earns a laugh from you.

Your forgetfulness…it is truly obnoxious. At this point, he has stopped reminding you to pick up your shit. He has grown used to simply picking up your things off the floor (or the couch, or the tables, or the showers), stuffing them in a bag, and dumping it all on your table in the workshop. Just like everyone else in the Tribe does for you. Or, if he wants to see you, he will pocket your datapad until you come wandering into the common areas, and hand it over without a word. It never ceases to amaze you that Paz somehow seems to know exactly what you are looking for.

Paz has no doubts that if you ever set your bucket down, you will lose it. He kind of finds it endearing. But only from you. He has no problems holding armor, weapons, or personal property for ransom if some idiot leaves it unattended.

If there is even a single power cable in a wide-open room, you will invariably find it and trip over it. Stairs have to be clearly marked with vibrant tape to remind you of their existence even though they’ve been there for ten kriffing years. Your navigational skills are nonexistent. It is all Paz can do to refrain from simply attaching a tracker to your backside to keep you from getting lost whenever someone takes you to the market.

The first time he had taken you to the market, he lost you within forty-eight seconds. He panicked the entire time he looked for you. Fortunately, he found you trying to dig enough money out of your bag to buy some ice cream, with no regards as to how you were going to eat the kriffing ice cream with a damn bucket on your head.

Sometimes, Paz feels like his relationship with you is going to give him a full head of grey hair before his fiftieth birthday. But he thinks you are the most beautiful disaster he has ever seen in his life.

You get his dumb jokes and laugh at his silly puns. You let him steal the end pieces of the bread when you bake. You try so damn hard to improve your hand-to-hand combat skills, even when Doctor Shen threatens to tie you to a bed to keep you from hurting yourself. You turn to him first when you want to learn a new technique. You play hunters-and-prey with the children for hours, like you don’t care that the others are grumbling about you spoiling the kids. You listen to him ramble about whatever random topic he has picked up that week, and while you may not know anything about it, you ask questions and take the time to learn more about what makes him happy. You even offer to share your tiingilar with him, even when you only have a quarter ration of it.

He has spent most of his forty-four years alone in life. His eight-year relationship had ended exactly ten years ago when his partner chose to commit adultery. He was on the verge of proposing marriage when he caught them in his bed. Neither had been wearing their helmet. It was a privilege his partner had never granted him, even after nearly a decade together. After that gut-wrenching betrayal, something had shattered in him. Paz invested himself in his work fervently, his bitterness turning him away from the possibility of a long-term relationship. Now that he is older and wiser, he feels a sort of emptiness to his days. Like his successes mean nothing without having someone to share them with. He wants someone there to encourage and support him in his hunts. Someone who is not as cynical and burnt out from the constant threat of death and war. Someone who still has that shereshoya – that Mandalorian lust for each new day and every experience that it brings. That brightness in your soul draws him to you like a moth to the flame. It is your hidden gentility that has him so happily trapped in your orbit.

He wants to make you strong where you are weak.

He wants you to make him strong where he is weak.

Seeing you waiting for him at the shooting range brings a spring to his step. Hearing your laughter at one of his awful jokes makes him glad he wears a helmet so no one can see the ridiculous grin on his face. Smelling the sweet, flowery soap that you use makes his knees go all wobbly, though he’s not sure if it’s from affection or just from age. Just feeling your hand brush up against his makes him turn into a sweaty, flushed mess.

Paz Vizla feels like he’s strapped to the wing of a TIE fighter spinning out of control as it plummets to the ground below, or something like a fully-grown rath’tar has wrapped itself around his heart to squeeze. His belly is jam-packed with spice-crazed minochs and his heart is pounding wildly. When he thinks about kissing you one day, maybe just gently pressing his helmet against yours, his heart gets so full he can barely breathe.

You make him Feel Things he has never felt before.

Paz Vizla turns into a hot kriffing mess under his armor when he is around you, and he wants off this malfunctioning jetpack.

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Feel free to leave comments, concerns, or critiques. I love all sorts of feedback <3

[6ftslytherin]

An Ismarie fic

Marie Lowell's heart was in pain. For the past couple of days in fact. The girl she liked was probably happily dating her crush by now. Marie hadn't check on Ismelda since Emily Tyler had read her dairy aloud. She tried to follow her after she had run off but Marie was stopped. As it turns out, punching the girl that exposed your crushes secrets got you two weeks of detention. She was on her way to report for her punishment for the fifth time this week by way of an empty hall.

Marie knew beforehand that Ismelda liked Barnaby. She might have been the only person that she had told. She was honored to be trusted with Ismelda's secret. It was the lowest she had allowed the protective wall around her heart to fall. At the same time... Marie was jealous.

She didn't hate Barnaby. She knew he was smarter than people thought, not in a conventional, academic way. He was kind. He was handsome. Every woman's dream man. It made sense Ismelda would like him. They would look cute together. Couples that were made of opposites were cute. He was the opposite of Marie.

Maybe she had been holding out hope. Her parents were both bright and shiny people, so similar people could have a happy relationship. But there was a major problem. Ismelda never mentioned being attracted to girls. Marie knew she was gay. She had known since she was twelve, publicly out since she was fifteen.

Marie was another stereotype. A lesbian that had developed a crush on her straight friend. What was wrong with friendship? Queer girls can have same sex friends, Marie had some. So why did she have to fall for a girl she knew was Interested in a boy? There were plenty of girls she could go out with that might like her back.

Marie was worried she might actually be a masochist. What other explanation could there be? Maybe something had messed with her brain years ago or perhaps she had been born like this.

Marie realized she had been scratching at her head, as if her thick hair wasn't messy enough on it's own. If only she had inherited her dad's straight hair. Maybe touching it was a sort of comfort to her from the time she didn't have any. Chemotherapy was never nice.

Marie almost jumped out of her skin when she heard an angry scream followed by a loud smash. She looked around for where the sounds could have come from. There was a door that was barely open. Another yell and a smashing sound. A little part of her brain told her the room was full of banshees that were waiting for her (and braking vases for some reason.)

Marie slowly opened the door. No banshees, but again, a scream and a vase smashing against a wall. In the abandoned classroom was a panting Ismelda. She hurriedly used repairo, let out a primal scream, and threw it again. Pieces of vase shot everywhere as she collapsed onto her the floor.

Marie was confused. What happened with Sabine's plan? Shouldn't she be in Barnaby's arms? Sabine knew Marie liked Ismelda, but her friends had all but forced her to try and get Barnaby and Ismelda together. She said she needed Marie's permission before trying out a plan they had come up with. Marie knew she could never make Ismelda happy the way she wanted. So she gave her blessing. A blessing that had felt like she had torn her own heart out. If she had remembered right, then today was the day the plan should have gone through. So what happened?

"Uh... Is?" Marie said. Ismelda whipped her head around. Her pale face was now red with eyeliner running down her cheeks. Marie closed the door and walked over to her. Her feelings didn't matter at the moment. Ismelda was in pain. She needed to help her. She kicked some of the debris away and sat next to her.

"What's wrong?" Marie asked. Ismelda cried harder as she tried to say something. Marie did her best to understand what she was saying but her audio processing disorder was making it more difficult than it should be. All she got was "I hate them" and "I want them dead."

Ismelda laid her forehead on Marie's shoulder. Marie didn't mind if Ismelda needed somewhere to cry. She was a bit glad Ismelda trusted her like this, but she felt guilty. This intimacy with her was something she craved but knew she shouldn't bask in. She was sick. How could she be thinking like this when her friend was bawling her eyes out? Marie needed to push her feelings down and let Ismelda cry it all out. That was when she made something out of Ismelda's sobbing.

"Why doesn't anyone love me?"

It felt as if Marie had been hit by a bludger. Of course people loved her. Ismelda's family might care about her much but Marie knew people did. Last year when Ismelda had visited for the first time her parents all but adopted her. Sabine defended her when others made fun of her, almost acting like the (by a few months) big sister her own wasn't. Marie wished she was more like Sabine, the more confident and openly emotional of the two.

Marie couldn't even work up the courage to reassure her that she had people that cared about her... Or did she? She swallowed hard.

"Is?" Ismelda looked at her through her red, wet eyes. "People do love you. Sabine, my parents... me." Ismelda's face twisted in frustration. "I don't mean that kind of love. I mean the kind that makes it feel like you can see new, beautiful colors. Don't you understand? Barnaby was the only boy that has ever given a shit about me. Without him I'll die alone!"

Marie did understand. "You don't get it Marie! I'm a fucking freak!" Ismelda yelled before putting her face back onto Marie's shoulder. Was this really what Ismelda felt about himself? Marie felt nauseous. How could she? How does she not see how amazing she is? Hearing her friend talk like this was devastating.

"What are you talking about?" Marie asked before she could stop herself. Ismelda's crying softened. Marie was stunned by her own boldness. She was normally so passive. What was it about Ismelda that made her act like this? Maybe just being near her made Marie braver. If there was ever a time to tell her what she really thinks, well... she already put her foot in the door so...

"I don't think your a freak, I think your amazing. Nobody else even comes close to how unique you are. I can tell you about various ways decomposition takes place and you don't say I'm creeping you out. You even ask questions because your genuinely interested in what I have to say." Marie's face was radiating heat at this point.

"Your so much more than people give you credit for. You hexed that guy that was making fun of me. You put your scarf on me when I couldn't stop crying. You help me whenever I'm having trouble with my history homework. I just like being around you. I'm genuinely confused as to why nobody else can see how wonderful you are. Even if you are a freak, then I guess I like freaks."

Marie put her hand over her face. "A-and your so p-p-pretty." Was that going to far? Ismelda had stopped crying and took her head off Marie's shoulder. She had crossed the line. There's no way she didn't. She should leave. Marie had messed up their friendship.

"Your the one that's pretty."

Marie was frozen in place. What was she talking about? "Have you seen my face? My nose is all messed up. My jaw is too square. My cheekbones are too defined. My hair is too greasy. I'm too tall. I'm too skinny. I've got big feet and small boobs. My personality ain't much better either..." Ismelda said as she played with the hair that covered her face.

Marie felt an anger rising in her. She lowered her hand from her face. How dare Ismelda talk like that? Why? Why can't she see the beauty that is Ismelda? She wasn't beautiful like a gemstone or princess gown. She was beautiful like a masterfully made casket full of advanced spell and history books. A highly polished walnut casket with a green crushed velvet interior. The books only understandable by those that truly took pleasure in their studies. Morbid, but appreciated by those that can see the beauty in it. Marie was worried her decision to become a mortician warped her ability to think clearly sometimes, but that's how she truly felt.

"I don't care about that. You deserve love too. I promise you won't die alone. You'll find someone who can appreciate you the way you deserve. You might already know your future partner or you might not. The point is you can't lose hope. Even if Barnaby isn't the one there are plenty of people that will see how special you are and love you back. I want you to understand how great I think you are."

They both stared in front of them.

There was silence.

Marie shouldn't have said that. It was too much. Did Ismelda know about her crush on her? She ruined their friendship. That must be what happened. She wasn't saying anything because she was freaked out.

That was when Marie noticed Ismelda's hand was almost touching hers. Her hand hadn't been there before, had it? What was she doing? Did she put her hand there unconsciously? Did she want Marie to notice her? Did she want Marie to... hold her hand?

No... that couldn't be. Could it? Was she misreading the signals? She must be. It was ridiculous to think other wise.

That was when Marie felt something touch her little finger. She looked back down. Ismelda's hand was touching hers now. Part of her worried if Ismelda could hear how loud her heart was violently beating itself against her rib cage.

Would it be overstepping her boundaries if she took her hand? Would it be selfish to do such a thing? She felt like her next action would change her world forever.

Marie took Ismelda's hand into her own.

She had done it. She really did just ruin her friendship with Ismelda. She was going too far. She was going to say her sweaty hand was gross and how dare she try to take advantage of her in this emotional time.

But she didn't.

She actually squeezed her hand.

Marie squeezed back.

Marie had no idea how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours? Days? She looked at Ismelda who was looking back at her.

Was the room getting hotter? Was the rest of the world even there anymore? All she could think of right now was the intoxicating pine green of her eyes and the freckles that dotted her skin like stars.

Neither was sure who moved first but both girls closed their eyes and got closer. Their noses bumped into each other and made them open their eyes for a second before going back to what they were doing. It was their first kiss.

Marie was worried her bpm had gone over 150. Her stomach was full of pixies. She felt Ismelda's hand squeeze tighter on hers. She was glad they were already sitting on the floor, even without standing her knees felt weak. Marie was sure she would wake up any moment now. That was the only thing that made sense in this scenario. Their lips left each other and they opened their eyes. They rested their foreheads together.

"Is, I like you. I like you a lot." Marie said before anything else could get in the way of her feelings. They had just kissed. She couldn't hold it back anymore. "I'm sorry." Marie's eyes stung with small drops of tears. There was no way to go back now. If only she had been born a boy. She wanted to be with Ismelda. Nothing else mattered right now except for her.

"Marie... I..." Ismelda was trying to put her thoughts together. "I don't think I'm gay. But... I think I like you? I think I've liked you for awhile.. Not like Barnaby, but close? A little different? I don't know... I think I need some time to think." She said as she ran her thumbs over Marie's fingers.

Marie felt so weird. Ismelda liked her? She was so happy. Only two people existed in the world anymore and it was them. The closen she craved was within her reach. Then Marie thought, what if she's just emotional from being rejected? She couldn't be with her if she didn't truly like her back the way Marie liked her. She was brought back down to Earth. Marie removed her head from Ismelda's and looked her in the eyes.

"I understand. You have to take as much time as you need. This isn't something we can't rush. If you decide this isn't for you that's fine. If you decide you want to try being with me than I'll be glad to accept. If you want to try being with a different girl or a guy that's alright too. But this can't be rushed. You need think if this is something you really want."

"Yeah. I've got you. Let just be friends until I get this sorted out." Ismelda said as she let go of Marie's hand. She quietly got up and walked to the door. She paused and turned back to look at Marie. Ismelda smiled a little. "I'll see you around. Don't tell anyone I was crying or I'll kill you." She said. Marie smiled back. "I know. I'll see you later." Ismelda left the room.

Marie sat in the silence.

She laid down on the stone floor.

That was when the weight of their talk hit her. She balled up the bottom of her sweater and screamed into it. She rolled back and forth. How could this really have happened? Was she high? Was she under an illusion?

Marie was panicking with anxiety. She was overwhelmed with joy. But most of all, she was definitely late in reporting to Mr. Filch.

————

"Where have you been girl? Do you think these banisters polish themselves? No! They require hard work! Something you Lowells have never had to deal with." Filch said as he roughly handed Marie a can of polish and a rag. "And wipe that smile off your face before I hang you from your feet! You Lowells always think your better than everyone else... well I'll show you..." Filch muttered as he walked away to do other work.

Marie caught a glimpse of herself in a reflective suit of armor. Her face was bright red and her mouth in the shape of a weird, anxious smile. She tried her best to force her face back to normal, but then she remembered kissing Ismelda again. Her face went back to the unusual goofiness.

She took a deep breath and got to work on the stairs, with her big stupid smile and a bit of hope in her heart for when Ismelda made up her mind.

She was really glad she punch Emily Tyler.