#I imagine that the first time Dark meets Four he falls for that trap

[miniscrew-anon]

FourShadow is 1000% the loudly a bastard/quietly a bastard dynamic

Oh of course! The secret is that Four is capable of having manners and that when he stands next to Shadow it’s really easily to think he’s a normal, stand-up guy. And since they bicker so much you think that you’d have an ally against Shadows insanity.

But it’s actually a trap and he’s just as much an asshole as Shadow. Just in a quieter, far more subtle way. Hanging out with those two for any amount of time will make it clear that they’re actually a pair of bastards made in hell.

[bullet-prooflove]

Choices!Series Part Three: The Agency - Vostanik Sabatino x Reader (NSFW) - (feat: Michelle Hanna)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @novamariestark @words-and-seeds @whateversomethingbruh @a-noni-love @reneejett4 @trublu2u

Sabatino turns up at Michelle’s house the next day. He waits until she’s dropped Kam off at school and Sam’s left for work before he raps his knuckles on the door. She can tell he’s in dire straits the instant she sees him. His smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes and he looks exhausted. She knows the feeling well. This was coming for a while now. The job is wearing him down, eroding him.

There’s the other side of it of course, the personal side. The two of you have been together over four years by now, the longest relationship Sabatino has had since she’s known him. When he returns to LA, he lives in your house with his guitar and the antique vinyl player his father left him. It speaks volumes that he trusts you with his most precious possessions.

When you come over for dinner, she sees the way you look at each other. Sabatino is lighter when you’re around, his joy more evident. She sees the fun, idealistic young man he was when he first joined The Agency, not the weathered soldier that he’s become.

She can tell the relationship has reached it’s breaking point. She’s surprised it’s taken this long. You’re a patient woman, more flexible than most but this is what happens when you fall in love with a CIA Officer. It becomes a war between love and duty. One will always outweigh the other.

He’s studying the debris on her fridge when she hands him the mug of coffee. It’s a collection of magnets, leaflets from Kam’s school and pictures of the family she’s created with Sam. She wonders if he’s imagining his own future, days filled with school schedules and late-night feeds, a dark-haired boy or girl cuddled up in his lap as he watches Moana or reads them a bedtime story. He’d make a good father she thinks, he’d spend evenings with both Kam and Aiden when they were younger playing Monopoly and Mouse Trap.

“You ready to talk about it?” She asks him, tilting her head towards the dining table. He nods before taking up residence in his usual seat. His hand wraps around his mug, his thumb chasing up the porcelain. She waits for a moment allowing the silence to sit before Sabatino opens his mouth to speak.

“I want to get out.”

“I think you’ve wanted that for a while.” Michelle tells him as she clasps her own mug to her chest “I know what it looks like. You’re tired Sabatino, I think you have been for a long time.”

The edges of his mouth twitch up into a grim smile before he takes a sip of his coffee.

“I am.” He tells her, before leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. “I’m not living, not really. I want my own life, one where I can actually sleep next to the woman I love for more than a week, without having to shoot off to God knows where to talk to God knows who.”

“You know they won’t want to let you go.” Michelle says quietly. “The ops you’ve ran, the sources you’ve cultivated, you’ve become indispensable.”

“I know.” He says with a bitter laugh. “Who knew being so good at my job would be so detrimental?”

Michelle bows her head, her gaze shifting to the coffee inside her mug. She was in the exact same position once upon a time. Too valuable to be set free, no matter how much she wanted it. She kept a little insurance though just in case, she always had an exit strategy. Sabatino though, she didn’t think he had the same foreplaning, but she had ideas though, ways he could leverage the work he’s done to get a free pass.

It may take a few of months but she’s confident they can find a way to give him a clean break, one that won’t result in the CIA dogging his footsteps or taking out ‘the problem’.

“If you’re serious about leaving, we can do this.” She reassures him. “We can put a plan in place that’ll get you out. We just have to be clever about it.”

“Why do you think I came here?” He asks her, his lips tipping up into his first genuine smile of the day. “You’re the smartest person I know, and if there’s a way, I know you’ll find it.”

***

You’re watching the Great British Bake-Off when Sabatino knocks on the door to your house. The two of you live together, he has a key, but at times like this when your relationship is in flux he always knocks. It’s his way of respecting your boundaries.

“I thought you’d be halfway across the world right now.” You say as you gesture for him to come inside.

You’re definitely still pissed at him; he can tell from the bite in your tone and the fact you’re very clearly spite watching the British Bake-Off finale without him. He isn’t sure if it’s because he disappeared with that painting or because of the conversation he walked away from before the op. He assumes it’s a combination of both.

“Alright, alright. I deserved that.” He says holding his hands up in surrender before he takes a seat on the couch and pats the space beside of him. “You gonna sit down for a sec? I need to talk to you about something.”

You sigh as you drop down alongside of him. He reaches out for your hand, taking it in his. His thumb chases over your ring finger, the place where yesterday a platinum wedding band resided, the one that had started this entire transition.

“I love you. It’s important to me that you know that.” He says, his voice rough with emotion. “You mean the world to me, and I want a life with you, one where we can be together…”

“I want that too.” You whisper as you meet his eyes. “I want…”

You let the sentence hang and Sabatino’s lips brush softly over yours. It’s an act of reassurance, he wants you to know that this is a safe space, to air your needs, your wants, your hopes for the future with him.

“You can tell me anything.” He encourages you. “You know you can.”  

“I want you to be in my life Nik.” You tell him as his forehead comes to rest upon yours “I want you to be present. What we’ve been doing isn’t working for me anymore, I need…”

“You need more.” He says with understanding. “And I want that too. I do. There’s an opening in the US Marshall’s office coming up, the LA division. I’m going to take it.”

“The Agency…” You whisper.

He swallows hard because the next steps are going to be hardest and he needs you to lend him some of your strength because without it, he’s not sure he’s going to make it.

“We’re not to see each other for a little while.” He tells you, his lips ghosting over the corner of your mouth. There’s a sadness in his voice, a quiet devastation because this is the price of freedom. Six months abroad overseeing his successor, it’s like the CIA are cutting out his heart and squeezing it right before his eyes. “It’s part of the deal. To separate from them I have to disappear, train the new guy, introduce him to my contacts, help him build those relationships. It means I can’t come home; I can’t be with you.”

It's a blow, he can see it in your eyes but there’s also a hope there, the promise of a brighter future. One that starts when he buries the remains of his old life beneath your feet.

“When do you leave?” You ask him, your fingertips trailing over his cheekbone, and he closes his eyes, savouring your touch because this is going to be the last time for a little while and he wants to remember this when he’s lying in his bunk alone.

“Tonight.” He whispers as he kisses you with a tenderness that he reserves for nobody else. “I have to leave tonight.”

***

Sabatino spends the next couple of hours tangled up in you, his fingers in your hair as he makes love to you in the bed you share. His lips ghost along the line of your jaw as your breath hitches and he knows he has you right there on the edge.

“Not yet,” He whisper, his thumb trailing along your lower lip. “I’m not ready for it to be over yet.”

He keeps you on the pinnacle of release for an age, his heated skin chasing over yours until he has you desperate and overwrought. Still, he doesn’t relent, he holds you there, thighs gripping his hips, his hands chasing over your curves, his dick buried deep.

He wants to remember this moment, to commit it to memory because this is what he’s going to be thinking about when he’s alone out there in the world. You and only you.

When he can’t hold back any longer, when the ecstasy becomes too much, he kisses you. He pours his entire heart and soul into it because he wants you to know exactly how he feels, he wants you to have no doubts. The next six months are going to be torture but he’s looking beyond that, to the life that lays ahead of you both, the one that ends with him being your husband, and you becoming his wife.  

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[golden-fairylights]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞

I'm so sorry that it took me so long to answer this one. I love the idea and I thought about it ever since I've seen the ask and I managed to find the first four pretty quickly the only one that gave me problems was the fifth. So, here you go with my five favourite fics that I've posted so far.🩷

The Parent Trap (piarles, 34k)

From the back of his nightstand, he pulls an old box, the corners of it knocked in from falling asleep with memories strewn all around him, Marie still too small to understand the things that had happened. With a heavy sigh he opens the lid and his eyes start watering again instantly. Right there, smiling back up at him, are Pierre and him, eight years younger, holding one of their twins each. With shaking hands, he takes the wrinkled photo out of the box and hates himself for not being able to focus on it, his tears making it impossible to see more than the outlines of it.

wonderstruck (piarles, 13k)

He knows his schedule for today, waking up, a quick breakfast, before he has to get dressed in yet another suit, and go to a polo match for the first time in his life. He has no clue about polo and frankly, he is not that interested in it - horses kind of scare him if he is honest. Well, not scare him necessarily, Pierre would much rather call it a healthy amount of respect that prompts him to keep his distance at all times.

A graveyard dance (piarles, 1k)

Pierre meets Charles at the graveyard and they dance through the night.

when we two were in love (galex, 5k)

Alex has been George’s first love and he suspects he will be his last. There is nothing George could imagine that would change the feelings he has towards his oldest and best friend. OR 1960s AU where Alex and George have to hide their love in dark corners of the world. But then life comes along.

And now, on to the fifth one. I lied I couldn't decide so I'll just link two here 🫣🩷(I hope thats fine)

That you are mine and no one else's (piarles, 5k)

“Five minutes, Pierre,” says Yuki and turns back to the door to leave the room. Pierre nods. “Is he here yet?” he asks quickly before Yuki closes the door completely behind him. “Same seat as every evening,” answers Yuki slowly, rolling his eyes and turning to close the door. There is a sly smile in Pierre’s face when he looks at himself in the mirror again, his heart beating just a little faster from the excitement of performing on stage in front of Charles in just a few minutes. He is all done now. The white corset he wears tonight is new, the strings of pearls that are sewn onto it barely cover the space between his small, white panties and the stockings. His shoulders are covered with pearl chains that are secured tightly around his neck and he is wearing high, white dancing heels to complete the outfit. OR, Pierre is a burlesque dancer and Charles is his rich and jealous boyfriend.

ricordi in divinire (piarles, 39k)

“TGV from Paris Gare de Lyon to Milano Porta Garibaldi now leaving platform seven.” This was it. They had planned this interrail for months now and finally, after finishing both of their degrees, they were off to Italy. Pierre sent his maman a text to tell her that they were leaving now and saw Charles across from him on his phone as well. One month in Italy. No obligations. Just him and Charles, living their lives, looking at sights, eating good food and enjoying their time together. Pierre couldn’t wait for the train to start moving. OR Pierre and Charles spend a month together in Italy and Pierre slowly falls in love with Charles.

[temporaryuniverse-writing]

Masterlist

A list of all my fics. I write about Obi-Wan Kenobi, mostly one-shots and shorter multi-chapters. You can expect whump, hurt/comfort, and angst. Some of them even have a bit of fluff.

Will be updated when new fics are posted.

Ignite ~ Sequel to Incarnate. Obi-Wan can't die. Not permanently, anyway. This is a very useful ability in a war. And now that his secret is out, the Senate is eager to use it.

Cover Your Eyes ~ On a mission far away from Coruscant, Qui-Gon Jinn makes a decision that will have profound repercussions.

I Have Made Mistakes ~ Hello, My Old Heart series. Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Boga take a vacation to a very special place and get a chance at some more healing. Plus a chance to play in the snow.

Border Line of Weightless ~ Obi-Wan isn't afraid of falling. Not when he has wings and the Force on his side. And then he learns what it's like to hit the ground.

Happily Ever After ~ A month ago, Quinlan and Obi-Wan defeated the Sith Lord and ended the war. Now, they get to enjoy their happily ever after.

Resilience ~ Twelve years after his defeat at the Battle of Naboo, Obi-Wan's greatest enemy has returned from the dead. Obi-Wan has faced Maul and lost. Now it is time to face himself.

Soldier, Poet, King ~ Hello, My Old Heart series. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan find their footing after Melida/Daan, with a little (maybe a lot of) help along the way. (Multi-chapter)

The Toll of the Bell ~  Lem Ninnudrar is back at the Jedi Temple for the first time since they were Knighted. They spend the day doing what they love most, and maybe contemplate taking a Padawan along the way. Tomorrow, they decide. They'll do it tomorrow. But something dark lurks around the corner of the night, and tomorrow may never come.

Speak No Word (Hear No Sound) ~ Ahsoka wasn't sure what she was getting into when she was assigned to Master Kenobi and sent to the front lines. She didn't even know he was deaf. Being captured together gives them the chance to get to know each other a little more. For better or worse.

The Best Nerfburgers in the Galaxy ~ Three generations of Jedi. One diner. Or how Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka all meet Dex and discover the best nerfburgers in the galaxy.

Wing and Blood ~ Sequel to Scale and Bone. Obi-Wan doesn't realize he's been injured on the battlefield. But neither does anyone else. This leads to some complications and some cuddle piles.

This Will End ~ Seven months since he left the Jedi Order. Four months since he came home. Four weeks since he met Boga. Already, Obi-Wan cannot imagine a life without her by his side. But something is wrong with her and he doesn't know what, and the thought of losing her terrifies him. Boga can't be dying, can she?

Heart of the Blade ~ The crystal is the heart of the blade. Every Jedi knows this, and every Jedi knows also, that the crystal is the soul of the Jedi. A Jedi is not whole without their kaiber. Or: The battle of Naboo, when the Jedi carry their hearts in their hands.

Scale and Bone ~ The Zygerrians know all the best ways to break a person. Between the electrowhips and the starvation and the Togruta being punished in his place, Obi-Wan is struggling to hold himself back. Tearing the slavers apart with his teeth and claws is becoming more and more appealing.

Painted Future ~ All his life, Obi-Wan has been having visions of the future, or at least, many possible futures. When he gets lost in the Temple, he stumbles across proof that he isn't the only one who has seen what is to come.

Wearing Thin ~ Sequel to Perennial. The longer the war goes on, the harder it is for Obi-Wan to keep going. The pain is never-ending, and it's only getting worse.

Vital ~ Obi-Wan and Cody get trapped in a lab filled with toxic gas. Cody is safe inside his helmet, but Obi-Wan is not so lucky. The consequences may be more than the 212th medics can handle.

Precarious ~ Obi-Wan has infiltrated Death Watch in order to keep Satine and Qui-Gon one step ahead of their adversaries. But now he is alone, in a camp full of people who wouldn't hesitate to kill him if they found out who he really was.

Incarnate ~ Amaranthine sequel. Before Obi-Wan died to General Grievous, he had foolishly hoped he could maintain his secret until the end of the war. He should have known his luck was never that good.

Perennial ~ Obi-Wan knows pain. He has been in pain since he was thirteen and fighting in a war for peace. Now he's thirty-five and fighting in another war, and the pain hasn't stopped. But pain isn't the only thing he has carried with him.

Bloodstained ~ Obi-Wan experiences a rite of passage many Jedi go through, one of the hardest and most distressing. The first time he takes the life of another sentient.

Quiet ~ See My Dreams All Die sequel. Sidious is dead and Obi-Wan is free. But after everything that's happened, healing from what has been done to him seems impossible. It's good then, that he isn't alone.

Sinister ~ Obi-Wan and a squad of 212th troopers enter a Sith Temple. They may get more than they bargained for.

Downward ~ The lower levels of Coruscant are a dangerous place, as newly-Knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi is about to discover.

Innocent ~ Obi-Wan is sentenced to death for a crime he did not commit. Qui-Gon races to find the true perpetrator before his punishment can be carried out.

Consolatory ~ After a bad battle, Ahsoka has trouble sleeping. Her Grandmaster helps.

Amaranthine ~ Obi-Wan dies. And then he lives. The only problem? He hasn't told any of the 212th about his immortality.

Reparable ~ After his time spent as Rako Hardeen, Obi-Wan is struggling to deal with his regret and his friends' anger, even when he knows he did the right thing. Luckily, Boga is there to help.

Lucrative ~ A pirate crew gets ahold of High General Obi-Wan Kenobi and decide they can profit from their prisoner. Obi-Wan can only hope his rescue arrives before they can ransom him off to the first interested party.

Snowy Situations ~ In a series of unfortunate events, Obi-Wan and Anakin crash their ship, fall into a frozen lake, and get caught in a snowstorm. Waiting for rescue, Obi-Wan tries to comfort his sick and injured friend and reflects on his relationship with his former Padawan.

Desolate ~ Qui-Gon's Padawan is kidnapped while on a mission. When he finds him, he learns that rescuing does not always equal saving. And - Obi-Wan is held captive as a bargaining chip. While in a cage, he learns that living does not always equal surviving. (Multi-chapter)

Need a Friend ~ Obi-Wan has just returned from confronting the Sith he thought he killed twelve years ago. He wishes he was coping better than he is, but his friends are there for him anyway. Padmé and Bail don't know what's wrong with their friend, they can only hope he will tell them.

Nothing Gold Can Stay ~ There is no glory in war. War is unforgiving. War doesn't care who lives or dies. Obi-Wan just never thought it would take Cody from him.

Run ~ Qui-Gon sent him into the forest to commune with the Living Force. Instead, he's running for his life and the forest is burning around him.

Call It Home ~ Obi-Wan has a headache. Qui-Gon takes care of him.

See My Dreams All Die ~ Anakin dies on Mustafar, and Obi-Wan is certain he will join him. But Sidious is in need of a new Apprentice, and Obi-Wan Kenobi, injured, alone, and grieving, makes the perfect candidate. First, he must be broken. The battle for Obi-Wan's soul has begun, and the Sith won't accept anything less than complete submission. Obi-Wan will Fall, or he will die. (Multi-chapter)

Duty ~ High Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi has been captured by the Separatists. His interrogator believes he knows a way to get him to talk. After all, if the Jedi value all life, shouldn't they do anything to prevent the deaths of innocents?

Pirates and Patience ~ Children are going missing from their homes. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon are tasked with finding and stopping the gang of pirates responsible. Things don’t go according to plan. (Multi-chapter)

‘Til the Sun Goes Down ~ Mace Windu, not Obi-Wan Kenobi, goes to Utapau to face Grievous. Obi-Wan Kenobi, not Mace Windu, goes to confront Palpatine. The course of destiny changes forever.

Oathbreaking ~ A repudiation and a new beginning. (Multi-chapter)

Faultlines ~ After returning from Zigoola, Obi-Wan feels the Dark Side more strongly. And it centers around Chancellor Palpatine. (Multi-chapter)

To Live, To Die, To Fail ~ Maul wants revenge. Obi-Wan just wants to get out alive. AU of 4x22 "Revenge"

The Will of the Force ~ Obi-Wan Kenobi was born 32 years after he should have been. This changes everything and nothing. (Multi-chapter, In Progress)

Not Alone ~ Obi-Wan has never really been interested in sex. That's perfectly fine with him, but not everyone is so understanding. Luckily, Qui-Gon is there to reassure him.

The Cell ~ Captured by mercenaries seeking information on the Senator Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were sent to protect, the master learns what helplessness feels like as he is forced to watch the torture of his padawan. Can Obi-Wan hold out long enough for rescue?

Stars Hide Your Fires ~ Qui-Gon is dead, but the battle doesn't end there. Darth Maul has one more trick up his sleeve and Obi-Wan has a promise to keep. (Multi-chapter)

Who Remains ~ Obi-Wan receives tragic news. Anakin learns a grim truth. They both mourn a friend.

[jackrrabbit]

Sidekick /// Dabi x f!Reader x Shigaraki (18+)

Summary: During a rescue gone wrong, a rookie sidekick catches the attention of two villains.

A/N: Thanks for 1k followers!! This is the fic that made me create a smut blog/lowkey inspired this. imho this might be the spiciest thing I’ve ever written 😳 also wanted to call out @kazooli​ because this is highkey inspired by her lol thanks queen

Tags/warnings: quirk kink, reader’s quirk makes other quirks stronger, noncon, threesome, lots of foreplay, outdoor sex, mild overstimulation, degradation, mild violence, threats, chronological/temporal inaccuracies, fucking long

You can hardly be blamed for not recognizing them. It’s only been three weeks since you debuted as a pro, and you’re not even really a hero. You’re a sidekick, and apparently you’re not important enough to have been briefed on the major villains you need to look out for. You’re just…doing your duty. Rescuing civilians indiscriminately. Stupid, naive little sidekick. It’s not your fault that the lives you just saved belong to the two most notorious villains around.

Still, Shigaraki can’t wait to see the look on your face when you find out.

///

The disaster you ‘rescue’ them from—the League’s bar crashing down, the result of a small-time villain’s poisonous gas quirk—isn’t even a disaster. It’s a minor annoyance, sure, but Shigaraki and Dabi would have been fine without you…even though both of them missed Kurogiri’s warp gate and ended up trapped under a wooden beam in the wreckage of the building… Okay, it’s more than a minor annoyance. Shigaraki hacks violently as the cloud of foul-smelling steam and powdered debris enters his lungs. The poisonous quirk doesn’t seem to be having the same acid-burn effects on his body as it did on the building, but he can’t assume it’s harmless.

Father… Shigaraki took Father off his face to drink at the bar earlier before the gas hit, and now in the confusion the severed hand is either buried underneath the rubble that used to be the League’s main base or somewhere else out of view. “Father? Father!” Shigaraki calls out, attempting to shift under the crushing weight of the beam.

“Shut up,” Dabi says from somewhere to Shigaraki’s left. “Kurogiri took it in one of the portals, I saw it.” He looks worse than Shigaraki feels—something hit him in the face as the bar collapsed, and a few of the staples (piercings? stitches? whatever) on his right cheek are torn open and bleeding.

“Are you lying to me?”

Dabi sneers and rolls his eyes. “Let’s just get out of here.” His palms glow blue and Shigaraki follows suit, letting four fingers sit on the wood that’s pinning both of them to the ground. It’s too heavy to lift, so they’re going to have to get rid of it…a task that seems significantly more difficult when it becomes clear that neither of them are positioned at the right angle to touch it.

Shigaraki tries to wrest his arm out enough for his thumb to touch the wood, but it’s impossible. Beside him, Dabi’s having the same issue. “Shit, I can’t reach—“

“Is someone there?” Confident, clear, and oddly robotic, your voice cuts through the din of gurgling water from cracked pipes and police sirens like a lit flare in the darkness. Shigaraki tenses and halts his attempts to get free from the beam, and a second later Dabi mimics him.

“I heard voices.” The same unfamiliar voice rings out through the half-light, now accompanied by a body—your body, taking a series of awkward jumps down the piles of rubble to land in front of the two of them. The outfit you’re wearing is ridiculous: a pair of metal boots that clang against the cement wherever you step, matching braces on your arms, and a space-age chrome motorcycle helmet to top it all off.

A hero. Shigaraki’s lip curls in disgust as your head turns his way.

You scan the scene quickly, eyes resting on the two men trapped in front of you for a moment before you turn back to the opening in the wreckage. “Found two civilians!” you call out to the rescue workers just in case they’re within earshot, although it’s unlikely.

Dabi snickers under his breath. Civilians? Even in the chaos, you should’ve known the second you saw them who you’re looking at. Are you faking ignorance? Got something up your sleeve?  It’s either that, or you genuinely don’t recognize them. Priceless.

You kneel down in front of the fallen beam and give a half-hearted attempt to pick it up. It doesn’t budge. No surprises there—if it were light enough for you to lift by yourself, the two men held down by it would have no problem getting out with their combined strength. You’re going to have to use your support gear to get it off them.

But first—you search for a memory of your rescue training. Reassure the victims. They’re probably panicking.

“It’ll be okay,” you tell them, your voice coming out mechanical and distorted from the helmet you’re wearing. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here to save you.”

This time, Dabi has to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Ah, yes…they’re so lucky that there’s a do-gooder little hero around to rescue them, because they’d be helpless otherwise. The laugh is still audible, though, and Shigaraki shoots him a glare.

You raise an eyebrow at their expressions. Did he just laugh? Well…you’ve heard that people sometimes have inappropriate reactions in times of crisis. The dark-haired man seems more badly hurt, so you creep toward him first, careful not to disturb any of the debris and trigger an avalanche reaction. “I’m going to check your injuries now,” you tell him, and your gloved hand brushes away a sweep of spiky hair to examine the sizable red bump growing on his forehead.

Ouch…there’s no way that doesn’t hurt, but the man’s not letting any of the pain show on his face. Instead, he looks disinterested at best, and at worst? You almost get the feeling that he’s eyeing you up under your hero costume. Not that you can blame him. Damn this skin-tight bodysuit—it leaves basically nothing to the imagination.

“Does it hurt a lot?” you ask him. “I don’t think this is too serious, but they’ll look you over for a concussion when I get you to first aid.”

Dabi shrugs and you frown. Is the non-verbal response because of the ripped stitches in his face? Is it too painful to talk? Or could there be brain damage? Or maybe he’s just a man of few words or something…?

“Can you get on with it? Pick up the fucking beam already,” Shigaraki hisses.

Startled, you pull your hand away from the other man’s forehead. That ungrateful little…nope, nope, don’t get annoyed, he’s just in shock. “O-Of course, sorry. Just gotta make sure it’s okay to move.”

Luckily, the beam doesn’t look like it’s supporting anything else that’ll fall if you pick it up. You crouch down next to one end and steady your feet against the cement, lifting up with all your strength while activating the effects of the support items you’re wearing. When you feel the metal on your arm braces grow warm, you remind yourself again to thank the developer of your costume. You may not be a fan of the way-too-tight bodysuit that clings to everything, but the strength-enhancing armor that you wear on your arms and legs more than makes up for it.

A second later, you hold back a grin. It’s moving! You try to ignore the unpleasant screech of metal against stone as the beam slowly lifts into the air. As soon as the men get out from under it, you pant and let it crash back into the ground. “You guys okay?”

“Mm…yes,” Dabi replies, running a hand over the torn piercings in his cheek. “Got any more gas masks for the poison mist?”

“Don’t worry! The Commission is familiar with the villain who created it, and the gas isn’t harmful to anything living. Only buildings. It’s a troublesome quirk, but we’ve got it under control.”

“Then what’s with the helmet?”

He can hear the hesitation in your reply, even distorted and tinny through the metal speakers. “Uh…I, well…”

Now that you’re getting a good look at them, the two scarred faces in front of you seem weirdly intense, considering you’ve just saved them from a collapsed building. The dark-haired man’s eyes are…very, very blue next to the burned-looking skin underneath, and the other man’s greyish-blue hair isn’t quite long enough to obscure a pair of red irises that are scrutinizing your face with obvious hostility.

You give a nervous shake of your head to clear it. “Um, the helmet is…it’s dangerous if I take it off. I should get you guys back to the rescue area, I need to meet up with my hero…” Without thinking, you take a step back and then one more, not knowing exactly why you’re backing away when you’re supposed to be escorting them. “I’ll just lead the way?”

With your third step back, though, you bump into something hard. What was that? Your head jerks around but before you can identify what it is that stopped your retreat, you feel the faint sensation of something tapping lightly on the back of your helmet.

And then…it just…crumbles.

What just happened?

You cough and shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut against the sudden onslaught of dust. A breeze whips through your hair, sending a chill through you in more ways than one. How? No one pulled the helmet off; you would’ve felt it if they had. More dust sticks to your face, and you rub your eyes so you can open them.

Behind you, Shigaraki waits with outstretched fingers an inch away from your neck. If he had to explain the decision to decay your helmet strategically, he could—you’re a hero, a potential threat, and he wants to know what you’re hiding under that outfit just in case you figure out who they are and decide to turn on them.

But really? He didn’t think about it that much. It was an impulse reaction to you walking away from them; a tantrum. Child-like.

Once your stunned face is exposed, Dabi has to wonder what you were even trying to hide. You’re…surprisingly ordinary. Young-looking—a rookie, fresh from hero school graduations a few weeks ago maybe? Large, expressive eyes, lips parted in shock, but nothing particularly interesting. Shigaraki cocks his head to the side to study your face too, and both of them are so focused on your appearance that it takes a moment for them to notice the feeling.

Well, feeling isn’t really the right word, but there isn’t a word for the way your quirk works. Dabi’s eyes widen when it reaches him and behind you, Shigaraki stiffens. You notice.

There’s an involuntary quiver in your voice as you break the silence. “Y-You guys must have strong quirks if you can feel it just from that.”

Dabi sucks in a breath. So this is your quirk? It’s different…he’s never felt anything like it, not that he’s exactly sure what it is. There’s some kind of energy in the air around you that he’s breathing in, a feeling like taking a shot of espresso after days of sleep deprivation.

No, it’s stronger than that. The head rush after doing a line of cocaine would be a better metaphor.

Either way, he’s awake—more awake than he can remember feeling in a long time. Heat rises to the surfaces of his palms unbidden, his quirk appearing without him calling it. “What is this?”

“…It’s called Boost,” you say, licking your lips as a dry wave of heat radiates out from the man in front of you. “I can strengthen other people’s quirks. That’s why it’s dangerous—if the villain finds us—“

“It must have been hard to get through hero school with a quirk like that,” says a raspy voice from behind you.

What—? Your head twists around. When did he—

Shigaraki grips your shoulder with three fingers, holding just tightly enough to keep you from stumbling forward and away from him. His pinky and ring finger hover an inch over your costume, careful not to disintegrate the fabric he’s touching—although with the power sparking through his veins at the moment, it almost feels like three fingers would be enough.

“…Doesn’t really seem like the kind of quirk a hero has.” His voice, soft and pondering (a weird contrast to the harsh architecture of his facial features you’d seen earlier), feels very close to your ear. Something soft tickles your cheek. His hair?

A voice (an instinct?) deep inside of you is telling you to run. You ignore it. This is normal, right? It’s not uncommon for civilians who’ve just suffered a traumatic villain attack to have questions, even if those questions seem irrelevant to the situation at hand. You have to answer, even if your gut is churning. “I’m not really a hero. Not yet. For now, I’m a sidekick to one of the pros—and speaking of which, I really need to find—“

“But how does it work?” Dabi doesn’t notice himself making a conscious decision to step forward, but he does anyway and being closer to you feels right. He can see the trepidation on your face as he gets close enough to reach out and touch you, but you can’t really ask him to stay back, can you? Not when your quirk feels this good?

“I—“ Is it unreasonable that you think you’re being trapped right now? They’re just a couple of civilians, right? The question itself is common enough. People often wonder how you can be a hero. It’s a concern you’ve had to address dozens of times over the years. “Well, I work with rescue operations, especially with other heroes who have healing-type quirks. I can also assist in combat in some situations.”

“In combat? If you’re with a hero and a villain, you’ll enhance both quirks. Seems counterintuitive,” Dabi says, half aware that his voice is getting lower.

“And you clearly don’t have physical abilities. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have…these.” Shigaraki taps three fingers on the metal brace on your right arm.

“The effects can be unpredictable. And I can increase the degree of the enhancement with physical contact.”

“Contact?”

“Yeah. The gloves of my costume come off. My quirk is way stronger when it’s skin-to-skin.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

You shouldn’t have said that.

Shigaraki’s ring finger and pinky, which were hovering over the arm brace, come down to rest on the cold metal. The effect is instant: no crumbling, no slow decay—it’s there, and then it’s dust. His quirk in action, boosted by yours.

“What—What are you doing? What did you just do?” You try to pull away from him, but he holds you tight by your collar. His other hand comes up to grip your chin, and in one long sloppy stroke, he licks you from your neck up to your jawline.

You shudder. So does Shigaraki.

“It’s my quirk,” he tells you slowly. His breath is steamy warm on the cold, wet trail of saliva painting your throat. “Decay. Have you heard of it?”

You flinch away from his hand and your back falls against his chest. Of course you’ve heard of the Decay quirk. You might be a rookie, but even civilians know about the young, impetuous head of the League of Villains. Jesus, how had you not recognized him earlier? White hair, red eyes…you should have known. You should have left him under that beam. “Shigaraki…Tomura.”

“So you’re not completely clueless. Do you know me, then?” Dabi asks. He would think he’s the more noticeable of the two (the burn scars usually identify him), but you just stare up at him with the same deer-in-the-headlights look as before. Smirking, he lights a blue fire in his palm and it jumps up toward your face—not just the small spark he intended, but a bright, high flame. “Maybe this will help you remember.”

“The Forest of Beasts incident. You’re the one who started that fire,” you whisper. You’ve seen the TV coverage of the attack on UA’s training camp, the abduction of that teenage student, the forest lit up blue from wildfire. No wonder his skin looks burned.

“Dabi,” he corrects you.

Breath is coming out of your mouth in shallow puffs. Are you hyperventilating? Is this what hyperventilating feels like? You’re definitely panicking. They’re so close to you, caging you in between them. The smoke from the blue fire is uncomfortably hot over the exposed skin of your face, and Shigaraki’s lethal hands are still touching you. If they want to kill you—and why wouldn’t they?—you’re fucked.

The flame goes out and Dabi’s hands come down to squeeze your wrists. His palms are hot like he was holding them in front of a lit stove. It’s not painful, but it’s a threat.

“I’ll fight,” you say.

Your voice is trembling, and Shigaraki likes it. The effects of your quirk, the way he felt when he licked your face… And you’re afraid. He can see it in your shoulders, the quivering of your torso pressed into him. It’s nice. He wants to feel it more.

You’re struggling against their hold, and Dabi feels the urge to laugh. “You’ll fight…the two of us.”

“If you try to kill me, I’ll—“

Before you can finish your sentence, Shigaraki’s hands flit down to your metal support gear and disintegrate it. Shit. He’s fast, and you’re helpless.

Dabi releases your wrists and cups your face in a mockery of intimacy. His eyelids flutter closed as his skin meets yours… Fuck, he could get used to this. You smell so good, sweet and soft and clean, like fruity shampoo. What is that, watermelon?

Life must be difficult for you, hm… Everyone around you must want to touch you constantly. It seems like Shigaraki enjoyed licking you—maybe bodily fluids are an even stronger conductor of your quirk? Pushing easily past your resistance, Dabi forces your jaw upward and kisses you.

Oh…yesyesyes, just like that. Perfect. Dabi has to bite down a groan as his tongue enters your mouth. It’s ridiculous for someone else’s spit to taste this good, but he’s right—your quirk is amplified by the contact from the kiss.

After a moment he has to break it to regain focus and make sure he’s not burning you. You cringe away from him, your cheek brushing against Shigaraki’s neck, but Dabi tangles his hand in your hair to pull you back. He runs a finger against your closed lips, letting the pad of his fingertip heat up until your mouth drops open in response to the threat.

“What the hell are you doing?” Shigaraki asks, voice laced with revulsion. Privately, you agree. What’s going on? You were sure you were about to be either burned to a crisp or decayed into the equivalent.

Dabi laughs under his breath. “Try it. It feels crazy good.”

Curious now, Shigaraki wrenches your head around and tilts your jaw up to repeat Dabi’s action. When you refuse to open your mouth, he taps your jaw warningly and a hiss of fear escapes you. Would he really kill you? He decayed your support gear so quickly—would it be the same for your body?

Well, what’s going to stop them?

You open your mouth.

Shigaraki’s lips are harsh and unsentimental against yours. His tongue sweeps over the inside of your mouth, invasive and brutal. He grips you forcefully, his face pushing you deeper into the strained hold with your head twisted toward his. You’ve never been kissed like this before. His spit—it’s in your mouth.

And Dabi’s hands are on your waist. “How do you get this thing off?” he murmurs, pinching the fabric of your bodysuit.

A surge of panicked adrenaline gives you the strength to pull back away from Shigaraki. “What? No, you can’t!”

“Are you going to stop us, little sidekick?” Dabi mocks. “I think I can burn it off without too much damage.”

“Let me.” Shigaraki takes hold of the cloth, careful so when it dissolves into dust his hand isn’t touching you, and within a second—a second—you’re left shivering in just your underwear and boots.

“Help!” The plea squeaks out and you hope blindly that there’s a hero close enough to hear you. But is there even anyone who can fight them? You certainly can’t. “Help me! Somebody!”

“Shut up.” Dabi sends up a tongue of flame from a fingertip and you shriek as the heat sears against you. “Oh, come on. You should feel lucky. Bad guys like us usually don’t hesitate to take heroes out.”

“I don’t— Please, I’m just a sidekick, I’m a rookie— What do you even want from me? Just let me go, I won’t tell anyone! Please let me go.”

“Well, I think I know what I want.” Dabi traces circles over the tender skin of your hips, playing with the elastic of your underwear. He meets Shigaraki’s eye over your shoulder. “I think he wants that too. Right?”

“Yeah, I want…I want to fuck her,” Shigaraki hums. This isn’t like him, but he can’t help himself. You’re different. Leaving you here and never feeling this stimulant again isn’t an option. He buries his face in the juncture of your neck and shoulder, bites down on the soft skin there, and sucks.

You whimper, half from his answer and half from the sensation of his chapped lips on your neck. “Why are you doing this?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…you smell like something I want to eat. Especially this.” Dabi kneels down in front of you and hitches one of your legs up over his shoulder so you feel his hot breath washing over your clothed pussy.

You whine and attempt to wriggle back away from him, but Dabi’s grip on your thigh holds firm. His other hand brushes against the fabric of your panties to rub up against your slit and another surge of panic jumps up your throat. You can’t let him do this.

You kick your foot against his back, desperately attempting to make contact using the heel of the high boot that’s the only piece of outerwear still left on your body. It hits him awkwardly and he growls. “Damn it. Can’t you keep her busy?”

“Ahh…” Shigaraki ceases his oral assault on your neck and scratches a fingernail against one of the bright red marks marring your skin. He feels almost dizzy from the way your quirk is affecting him. Behind him, the broken expanse of wall digging into his back is the only thing keeping his focus. “Behave, sidekick.”

Before you can respond to the mocking title, Shigaraki’s face is against yours and his tongue is in your mouth again. Rough fingertips work up under the band of your sports bra and pushes it up over your tits. You screw your eyes shut at the sudden feeling of cold air on your nipples, and you know without looking that they’re standing up. Shigaraki gropes you thoughtlessly, keeping one finger lifted off of your skin, and you gasp on his tongue.

“That’s better.” Dabi’s mouth returns to brush against your panties. To be honest, eating you out isn’t the first thing on his mind. What he wants—what he really wants—is to shove you up against the wall and fuck into you and find out what your quirk feels like when you’re wrapped around his cock. But you’re probably not wet enough for that, and it’s not like Shigaraki is going to do anything to take care of you. Dabi would be surprised if the other man’s ever eaten pussy before in his life.

Besides…you smell good. It’s not even just the feeling of your quirk exciting him. The rich, feminine scent of your pussy is inches away from him, and Dabi is dying to make you cum in his mouth.

A moan curls up from deep in your throat as Dabi caresses the lips of your pussy through your underwear. You don’t bother protesting—at this point, it’s unlikely that any plea you could muster would stop them. Your earlier begging didn’t do much besides spur them on, but you still cry out as softly as you can when an unnaturally warm fingertip slips under the cloth of your panties to dip into your slit.

“Oh? You’re wetter than I expected. Are you enjoying this?”

Your frantic denial falls on deaf ears. Shigaraki rasps out a laugh and bites down on your neck again. He’s supposed to be keeping you still, but he can’t help enjoying the way your almost-naked body feels as you press yourself back into his chest, trying to force some space between yourself and Dabi.

Your squirming is no problem for Dabi, though—you’re so soft and vulnerable and the velvety skin of your inner thigh looks so delicious… He nuzzles against the area of bare skin and latches on to it, sucking until he’s sure you’re going to have a mark in a few minutes. The thought of leaving hickeys on you like a teenager is sickeningly nostalgic. You’re probably going to try to forget this when they’re done, aren’t you? But you won’t be able to, not when you’re covered in love bites and bruises. You’re going to be marked up for weeks.

Fuck, he’s hard.

Too impatient to bother taking off your panties, Dabi just pushes them aside to gain access to your damp cunt. His fingers feel hot—too hot, almost unbearably hot; you feel like you could melt into a puddle and your pussy is certainly slick enough as he pets your clit and slides one finger in, then two… You whimper and shake your head, silently denying what’s happening to you. The intrusion is uncomfortable, but Dabi’s fingers quickly find that rough patch inside of you that makes you want to beg like an animal. You hate it, but it feels good.

“She’s so tight,” Dabi says with something like awe in his voice. You can hear Shigaraki panting behind your back.

“Get on with it,” Shigaraki says.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

For a second you just feel Dabi’s humid breath against your dripping cunt before he closes the space between the two of you and his tongue slides onto you, laving over your cunt to come to a rest on your clit. A sound you’ve never heard yourself make before forces its way out of your mouth as Dabi eats you out in earnest, rubbing his tongue against your clit in a stuttering rhythm that gives you no time to catch your breath.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Your head rolls back onto Shigaraki’s shoulder. You feel like crying for a million reasons at once. Maybe you’re already crying—the sounds you’re making are almost like sobs. You want him to stop. You never want him to stop. Your hands twitch as you fight the impulse to fist them in the villain’s hair and pin him down between your thighs.

“Fuck, oh fuck, no stop please stop, ah…!” The stream of gibberish coming out of your mouth crescendoes into a real sob as you feel your climax coming. No—you can’t—you can’t cum here, in this broken-down bar, on the tongue of a villain, but it doesn’t matter that you can’t, because you’re going to cum anyway.

“Please don’t, please let me go—“ You writhe uncontrollably as the desire to cum sweeps over you, but Dabi just curls one arm around your thigh and pulls his face away so he can push his fingers back in, angling his palm to grind roughly over your clit. The harsh, rough texture after the warm wet softness of his tongue is enough to push you over the edge and you cry out your orgasm, your pussy clenching onto Dabi’s fingers as he works them in and out of you.

Unable to support yourself, you crumple like paper, and only the two villains you’re sandwiched between keep you upright.

“Fucking finally,” Shigaraki growls, and he pushes you down so your knees scrape painfully into the rubble. Your earlier resistance was cute, but so is your dazed compliance as he pulls your hips up to meet his.

“You’re going first?” Dabi asks incredulously. After he did all that work getting you off? No way.

“You can use her mouth,” Shigaraki tells him. His cock is straining against his pants and he groans as he releases it and rubs it over your panties. He could decay them, but…they’re cute. Pale pink, peach-pink, except for the wet spot over your cunt. Precum is already dribbling out of his cock as he pulls your panties to the side and lines it up with your pussy. Jesus-fucking-christ, you’re wet, sopping and slimy. Doesn’t that mean you’re begging to get filled up? Shigaraki hears himself sigh as he slides the head of his cock up and down your slit so it’ll be wet enough to go in.

You’re still out of it, dizzy from your orgasm and the tension of the situation, but you snap back to your senses with the feeling of something hard pushed up to your entrance. “Wait!” you yelp for what feels like the hundredth time. The gravel scattered over the wreckage where you’ve been forced onto your hands and knees digs painfully into your flesh as you pull away from Shigaraki, but he holds fast to your hips with pinkies raised.

“Uh-uh,” Dabi admonishes with a grin, as if he’s reprimanding a dog for not coming when called. He settles himself in front of your front and kneels again. Your hair is mussed but still silky soft and he takes a moment to enjoy the way the strands slip over his skin before he tangles his fingers close to your scalp and yanks your head in his direction, forcing your cheek to chafe against the crotch of his pants. It’s not difficult to tell what the the thick bulge is through the fabric, and you try to flinch away only to be caught again and immobilized.

“You’re going to take care of us,” Dabi tells you. “Like I took care of you. Okay?”

No, it’s not okay, it’s absolutely not okay, and you would say so if you didn’t see Dabi’s expression darken at your obvious denial and feel a wave of acrid heat coming from his hand in your hair. The smell is worse than the feeling, honestly—you’ve had enough run-ins with hair curlers and flat irons to recognize the smell of hair when it’s three seconds away from burning. “Okay! Okay,” you answer, panicked, voice muffled by the fabric of Dabi’s pants.

“Good girl,” he purrs, and the heat fades.

“I’m not waiting any longer,” Shigaraki says from behind you.

“Then don’t.”

You whine, too scared to try to get away again or even plead with them to let you go, but it doesn’t matter. Shigaraki’s cock presses into your pussy, and there’s nothing you can do to stop him as he slides into you, inch by inch, torturously slow. Is there anything to bite down on? You need to do something, anything to distract from the pain of Shigaraki’s cock stretching you out. He’s big, impossibly big.

Eyes squeezed shut, you bite your lip until you can taste copper and scrabble around blindly until your hand finds loose fabric to grip. It’s something of Dabi’s, probably the coat he’s wearing if you remember correctly, but your brain isn’t exactly working right at the moment—

“You were right…shit, she’s…she’s so fucking tight.” Shigaraki’s voice is low and labored with the effort of not thrusting into you all at once. “Feels like…she’s trying to push me out…”

Fuck it, he thinks. Would it really be so bad if he did push all the way into you in one stroke? It’s better to just get it over with, isn’t it? Yeah…you’d probably prefer him to do it quickly. And besides, he can’t wait another second to feel you all the way up to the base of his cock.

Your strangled whimper is drowned out by his satisfied groan as he shoves the rest of the way into you in a single sudden thrust. The pain knocks the breath out of you in a gasp, and your eyes fly open as you clutch Dabi’s coat like a lifeline.

“It hurts—!”

“Yeah…yeah, I bet it does,” Shigaraki pants, holding your hips steady as he thrusts in and out of you. The bored nonchalance of earlier is gone, replaced by a feral intensity as his cock carves its way through your pussy. If you didn’t know better, you’d think there’s something affectionate in his voice.

For Shigaraki’s part, he can hardly think of anything aside from the soft, hot, wet cunt wrapped over his dick. It’s taking every vestige of concentration he has left to make sure he’s holding a single finger on each hand away from your skin. It’s pure bliss. Your body was made to be fucked like this. He wants to live inside your pussy, he wants to do this every day, every minute. Fucking you raw is the best he’s felt in months…years. And it doesn’t hurt that your quirk is still working on him, still sending pleasurable shocks of energy that make him feel simultaneously like he could keep you pinned down for hours and like he could cum any second.

“Oh, she’s crying,” Dabi says, tilting your chin up so he can look into your eyes. You flinch and try to jerk your head away, but his hand is still holding you by your hair and he’s so much stronger than you are. They both are, even without using their quirks. “Look at me.”

You comply, more by reflex than any real desire to obey. It’s pretty striking to Dabi how cute you look as Shigaraki pounds into you so fast and deep you can hardly catch your breath. Your eyes are glittering with unshed tears, your tits bounce with every thrust, and you’re still holding onto Dabi’s coat like your life depends on it. It’s almost like you’re pulling him closer. Adorable.

“She can…take it,” Shigaraki responds breathily between thrusts. “Such a good whore, taking my big cock in her tight little pussy…”

The backhanded compliment jars you and you feel hot tears spill over your cheeks. “I’m—not—a—whore,” you manage to say, each word punctuated with Shigaraki’s skin slapping against yours.

“Really?” Shigaraki’s pace slows and he leans closer to you so he can reach an arm around and swirl two fingers against your clit. You mewl like a kitten at the unexpected stimulation and he laughs rudely. “Feels so good…can’t believe the heroes don’t want to fuck you like this all the time…”

You shake your head desperately and bury your face in Dabi’s chest, barely noticing him stroking your hair and then reaching down to unzip his pants.

“No, no, I bet that’s what you do as a sidekick, right?” Shigaraki’s thrusts are back to frenzied jerks, and he rubs over your clit just as roughly. “Spread your legs for your hero…you’d make a great personal cocksleeve. Or maybe they rotate you around so every pro hero gets a turn…?”

“No, I don’t! No! Ah— ahnnn…” The denials pierce the air uselessly as the villain’s cock fills you up again and again. You’re not a whore, you’re not…even if it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the growing pressure of Shigaraki teasing your clit in time with his cock rubbing against your sweet spot. It still hurts—he’s so big, bigger than anyone you’ve ever had sex with before, but there’s no way you’re going to admit to yourself that it’s starting to feel good.

“…Is my cock better than All Might’s?” Shigaraki’s words are cut off by his own grunt of pleasure as your cunt twitches around him.

“Shut the fuck up,” Dabi cuts in. “I’m sick of hearing a guy’s voice moaning. I’m going to get soft.”

Past the point of comprehending the situation, you look up at him gratefully, only to reel back in shock as Dabi frees his own cock from his pants and it brushes against your cheek. Trying to pull away from him is more instinct than rational thought, but he holds you just as easily as before and forces two fingers into your mouth. You tense, ready to bite down, (and hopefully take a few knuckles off) but he sees it coming and suddenly your mouth is horribly burning hot.

“You’re going to suck my cock now,” says Dabi conversationally, extinguishing the flame almost as soon as he started it. It’s not so bad—probably more like a coffee burn than anything else—but you’re coughing and spitting anyway. “Say yes.”

“…Yes,” you whisper, voice barely intelligible.

“Good little sidekick. And you’re going to be very careful. You’re not going to use teeth.”

You nod, unable to mount a defense with Shigaraki mercilessly fucking you from behind.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Y-Yes!” you squeal as Shigaraki finds a particularly sensitive spot inside you.

“Good.” Dabi drags your head down to hover over his cock and massages your jaw until it falls open. “Suck.”

One of his hands falls to your shoulder to try to stabilize you, but you can’t help feeling the threat in the motion. You quickly duck down and attempt to ignore the heady smell of sweat and precum as you trace your tongue up the underside of his dick. He’s big too, maybe thicker than Shigaraki, and you hate yourself for feeling lucky that it’s not this cock inside your pussy right now.

The stunt Dabi pulled burning your mouth made you salivate, and you let drool coat your tongue as you lick around the head. But it’s not working—you rock forward every time Shigaraki stuffs his dick back in your aching pussy, and Dabi’s cock smears over your mouth haphazardly.

“I said suck. Not lick.” Suddenly (although you don’t know why you keep expecting some kind of warning before these villains find a new way to violate you), Dabi grabs the back of your head and shoves his cock into your mouth. Your throat constricts involuntarily as the thick head triggers your gag reflex, and all three of you shiver in unison.

“Do…do that again,” Shigaraki says, voice strained. “She tightens up…when you do that.”

Dabi smirks and thrusts into you again, relishing the warm, humid cavern of your throat around his cock along with the pure swell of energy from your quirk enhancing his. His rhythm matches Shigaraki’s and his cock hits the back of your throat with every rapid pump, making you gag and clench like you’re trying to milk the cum out of him. What a perfect little slut… He can see from Shigaraki’s sloppy movements that you’re squeezing around his cock every time too.

The feeling of having one villain cock buried in your pussy while another ravages your throat is unthinkable, even more so with Shigaraki’s fingers on your clit coaxing out an earth-shaking orgasm. But you’d almost be able to forget what’s happening—god knows you’re delirious with sensation, barely able to keep track of who’s doing what to you—if not for the sound. The wet slap of Shigaraki’s hips against your ass, the horrible squelching from your (dripping wet, even if you don’t want to admit it) pussy as his cock pistons in and out of you, your choked moans and gagging noises, and above it all, the unrestrained voices of the villains fucking into you.

You feel like a fuck toy, a sex doll, used without mercy by the two most evil people you can think of…and you’re about to cum.

Your voice is getting louder by the second, and the pulsing of your cunt around Shigaraki’s cock is telling him exactly how close you are. He curls his body over yours to get a better angle to rub your clit, enjoying your high-pitched whine in response. “Yeah…that’s right…good girl. Cum on my cock…like a good little sidekick.”

You keen and goosebumps rise on your skin as Shigaraki licks at the sheen of sweat on your back. He feels your climax almost as soon as you do… If your scream wasn’t stifled by Dabi’s dick in your mouth, everyone within a one-mile radius would know you were getting fucked silly, yeah? The walls of your pussy clamp down on Shigaraki’s cock, your body begging for his cum, and he grips your ass to make sure you can’t get away as he comes to his own orgasm inside of you.

Fuck… Shigaraki could die right now and be happy. He keeps stroking your clit, knowing it’s cruel, knowing you’ll be overstimulated and sensitive and that it’ll hurt to keep touching you like this after you already came, and not caring because every time the tips of his fingers push that little magic button, you shiver and squeeze him like you’re trying to milk him dry.

Shigaraki gives a few last thrusts, pushing his cum deeper into your body, fucking it into you so you’ll be dripping white for hours, and then finally pulls out. The slurping sound your cunt makes as his cock leaves your pussy is obscene. So is the cloudy trail of mixed white and clear fluid that connects your pussy and the head of his cock until he pulls it away. He loves it.

Knowing that Shigaraki came—inside you, no less, the inconsiderate bastard—Dabi grips the back of your head and tugs you down to deepthroat him. Your walls twitch involuntarily and Dabi groans, letting himself shoot his load down your throat. “Yes…yeah…yeah…just like that. Swallow.”

You don’t swallow. You don’t do anything but gag on his cum and gasp as he thrusts into you. Dabi pulls you off of him, annoyed and ready to threaten you into submission again…until your head lolls to the side and he can see that your eyes are closed.

“Shit, she passed out.”

“…What? Are you kidding?”

Dabi slaps your face lightly. You wince in your sleep but don’t wake up. “Nope. Must’ve been when she came the second time.”

“Is she…” Shigaraki trails off, not sure how to end the question. ‘Okay’ isn’t exactly right.

“She’s breathing, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The two of them wait for a moment, but you don’t move. When he catches his breath, Shigaraki wipes off his dick and pulls up his pants. Dabi does the same. Without them holding you, you flop down into the fetal position on the broken concrete. “What now?” Shigaraki asks.

Dabi wipes the sweat from his forehead. “You tell me, leader. I’m surprised Kurogiri hasn’t opened another warp gate to get you back. Guessing you don’t have your phone either?”

“…We can go to Giran’s place to meet up. They’re probably waiting for us there,” Shigaraki says, scratching at his neck.

“Do you have cab fare?”

“I don’t have my wallet on me. You?”

“Not enough for a cab. We’ll have to take the train. You can owe me.”

Shigaraki looks down at you. You make a pitiful scene, naked except for your boots, sports bra, and cum-soaked panties. Your neck is bruised red and purple, and you’re shaking, shivering in the cool air now that the sun has sunk further toward the horizon and you’re not being touched. “Are we going to leave her here?”

“What, you want to bring her on the train with us? You don’t think that’s gonna look suspicious?”

“Well…” Their eyes meet and Shigaraki knows Dabi’s thinking the same thing he is. You have a lot of potential as an asset. They haven’t even had the chance to see how your quirk boosting works in combat, but Shigaraki almost wants to pick a fight just to give it a try.

And fighting power aside, Shigaraki isn’t a fan of the possibility that he’ll never get to fuck you again.

“Yeah, I know. But she’s a pro hero’s sidekick. She can’t be too hard to find.” Dabi shrugs off his coat and crouches next to you. You’re limp enough that he has no trouble lifting you into his lap and guiding your arms through the sleeves of his coat. Once you’re wrapped in the black fabric, he does up the buttons, combs through your hair with his fingers, wipes the mixed cum and spittle off your chin, and admires his handiwork. Sure, anyone looking closely at you will know at least a little about what happened—you’re still sweating in the cold, you have that undeniable ‘just got fucked’ look all over you, and the smell of sex is overpowering. But at least you won’t have to walk back to the rescue tent in your filthy underwear.

In your sleep, you nuzzle into Dabi’s chest, reaching blindly toward the source of warmth. He grins and strokes the back of your neck, soothing warm fingers over the bruised skin there and enjoying his last opportunity to touch you and feel your quirk working…for now, at least. “You know, I wonder why villains don’t get sidekicks. Seems a little unfair, right?”

Shigaraki’s sneer matches Dabi’s as he bends down to run his fingernails over your cheek, almost hard enough to hurt. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

[therenlover]

Therenlover’s Official Fanfic Glossary!

Hey hey hey! This is the place where you can find all my up-to-date fanfics linked nicely, read about what projects I have upcoming, and learn what requests I’m taking at the moment! Cheers!

This post is massive so, for the sake of your dash, everything is under the cut

A NOTE ABOUT REQUESTS!

I will do my best to fulfill any requests I get while my ask box/requests are open! That being said, I cannot promise every request will get done, and that if they do, they’ll be done in a timely manner. I’m currently working on a long-form project that needs a lot of time and energy to come out consistently, so unless I’m doing a writing event most of my writing juice will be focused on that. That being said, if you want something ask! The worst I can possibly do is direct you towards someone else who might be able to write what you want if I cant.

If I choose not to do your request based on personal preference (it makes me uncomfy/I don’t write for the character at that time/I don’t feel I can write what you want/etc.) I will do my best to contact you and let you know! That being said, if you think your ask got buried/forgotten, feel free to message me again and let me know, but please tell me when you message me if I should be looking for a prior request.

Characters/Fandoms I will write for currently

 💙 = I’m Currently Super Inspired To Write For This Character

Marvel/X-Men

Bucky Barnes

Loki

Peter Maximoff 💙

Pietro Maximoff

Helmut Zemo 💙

Hank McCoy

Ralph Bohner 💙

Vision

American Horror Story

Tate Langdon

Kit Walker 💙

Kyle Spencer (Pre- and Post- Death)

Jimmy Darling 💙

James Patrick March 💙

Kai Anderson

Fallout 4

Nick Valentine

Hancock

Star Wars

Poe Dameron

Armitage Hux 💙

Kylo Ren/Ben Solo

Finn

Han Solo

Assorted/Random

Diarmuid Ua Duibhne - FGO

Cu Chulainn/Cu Alter - FGO

Warren Lipka - American Animals 💙

Enjolras - Les Miserables

Grantaire - Les Miserables

Gabriel - Supernatural

Imagines - REQUESTS CLOSED

Songs From Musicals Y/N Would Sing To The Evans

Characters: Tate Langdon, Kit Walker, Kyle Spencer, Jimmy Darling, James Patrick March, Kai Anderson, Peter Maximoff

Rating: T

How The Evans (+ Quicksilver) Would React To Yoplait’s New Gushers Yogurt

Characters: Tate Langdon, Kit Walker, Kyle Spencer, Jimmy Darling, James Patrick March, Rory Monahan, Kai Anderson, Peter Maximoff

Rating: T

Would The Danny Bunch Survive A Holiday With My Family?

Characters: Laszlo Kreizler, Alex Kerner, Niki Lauda, Andrea Marowski, Ernst Schmidt, Helmut Zemo

Rating: T

Headcanons - REQUESTS CLOSED

Modern! AU Armitage Hux Boyfriend Headcanons

Zemo With A Well Dress S/O Headcanons

Zemo Getting Jealous Headcanons

Oneshots - REQUESTS CLOSED

Marvel/X-Men

Helmut Zemo

One Last Night In Madripoor

Synopsis: Baron Helmut Zemo is a lonely, wanted man looking for some fun, you’re a piss-poor bounty hunter in search of a connection before leaving your life of crime behind, and fate has brought you together at a party the likes of which has never been seen before. You only have one night left in Madripoor, so why not take a chance?

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4200~

Still Some Catching Up To Do

Synopsis: As a member of the criminal underworld, people walk out of your life all the time. Some are killed, others kill themselves, most get caught and only a couple get out of the life unscathed, disappearing into the world never to be seen again. Very few walk back in. So when your supposedly incarcerated ex-lover, the Winter Soldier, and the Falcon waltzed through your door and made you murder your boss, needless to say, you were surprised and more than a little bit pissed.

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 6800~

Nine Years Starved

Synopsis: It had been a little over nine years since Helmut Zemo lost his family, his country, and his sanity. Nine years since his last kiss. Nine years since he felt like a human man. Finally, he was ready to start over again, but first, he had to pay his penance back where it all began; Novi Grad. That’s when, by the grace of the fates, he met you.

Rating: G

Word Count: 7000~

Daddy Dearest

Synopsis: Not everyone gets lucky enough to go from being a broke college student in New York to being the sugar baby to literal royalty, but not everyone is you. Most people would be worried about messing things up or losing him to someone else, but you knew he would never find another baby just like you. Besides, you knew exactly what to do to keep him wrapped around your little finger. He may have been the daddy, but you pulled the reins.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 8000~

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs

Part One   Part Two   Part Three   Part Four

Synopsis: As a wanted man, Helmut Zemo spends most of his time jumping from place to place in the hopes of avoiding a trip back to prison. Unfortunately, that means he can’t always be home in your arms. When he is, though, in the rare moments of calm, you’re reminded of just how worth it it’s been to wait, even if that wait was only shortened by the arrival of your enemies.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 35,700~

Two Bodies In The Rain

Synopsis: It was raining the day you finally had to admit your feelings to Helmut. You hated to tell him the way you did, under the grey skies as your blood pooled below you, but at least you knew, in the end, he had seen the real you, even just once. That was enough.

Rating: T

Word Count: 5600~

Rest

Synopsis: Living life on the lam with your escaped super-villain lover means things rarely slow down enough for a real rest. When the exhaustion starts to take its toll on you, though, he knows exactly what to do to ease the pain. He may not be a good man, but he’s a good husband when it counts.

Rating: T

Word Count: 3200~

American Horror Story

Jimmy Darling

Red Nights In Jupiter

Synopsis: At the end of another long day, you fall into bed with Jimmy Darling. The men you served throughout the day don’t matter then, nor do the coins in the mason jar by the door, or the women scheduled to attend Jimmy’s next Tupperware party. No, in that quiet darkness it’s just you and the man you love, bone-tired and happy to be home. Who could ask for more?

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 3000~

James Patrick March

Heartsick

Synopsis: When you fall ill, James is given a forceful awakening about how he’s been neglecting your needs and what he must do to prevent harm from befalling you again.

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 3700~

In Sickness And In Health

Synopsis: Normally people don’t have their wedding and funeral on the same day, but you and James don’t quite have a normal relationship, do you? Besides, you wouldn’t wanna go any other way.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 5500~

Fallout 4

Currently Empty

Star Wars

Currently Empty

Assorted/Random

Currently Empty

Long Form Works/Series

Young Artist!Zemo AU

Chapter One: The Boy With The Easel

Synopsis: About a month into your first semester at Novi Grad’s top university, you finally meet the strange young man that you’ve taken to calling “easel boy” in the back of a bookshop. From a distance, he always seemed cold and aloof. As you get to know him, though, you realize things aren’t always what they seem.

Rating: T

Word Count: 7000~

Till Forever Falls Apart (A Peter Maximoff/Reader Series)

Chapter One: Welcome Home

Synopsis: As if getting thrown through the multiverse, trapped in an attic (albeit a cool one), mind-controlled to manipulate his grieving sister, and subsequently dragged out of Westview “for his own safety” by the FBI wasn’t enough, Peter Maximoff has now been shipped off to New York to live with a glorified baby sitter like some tragic orphan in a comic book until they find a way to get him back home. Things are not always as they seem, though, and this change might just be for the better.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2400~

Chapter Two: The Doctor Is In

Synopsis: Peter’s first few days in his new home are mostly uneventful, so he decides it’s the perfect time to dust off his running goggles and steal some shit. The building with the massive circular stained glass window seems like a great place to start! People with buildings that lavish are usually rich and weak, so what could possibly go wrong?

Rating: T

Word Count: 2800~

Chapter Three: It’s Always Been You

Synopsis: After a month of adapting to his new universe, Peter Maximoff can confidently say that he likes his new life more than his old one. Sure, he misses home sometimes, but he’s been far too busy flirting with his new roommate to spend time crying over the things he’s lost. Everything is smooth sailing until a strange journal in his roommate’s study leaves him with more questions than he knows what to do with. Now he’s on a mission to discover who he’s really living with before she has the chance to turn against him.

Rating: T

Word Count: 8600~

Chapter Four: Before You Go

Synopsis: Peter, after days of contemplation, has realized that part of him loves Y/N no matter what she is or what she’s been through. Unfortunately, he can’t find her anywhere. When she finally returns home with the intention of leaving again, Peter realizes it’s his last chance to tell her how he really feels. Will he succeed, or will he fail to be fast enough once again?

Rating: T

Word Count: 4000~

Chapter Four And A Half: Gimme Swayze

Synopsis: Now that the issue of Y/N leaving is out of the way, and Peter has finally kissed her, he falls into the motions of learning how to love someone for the first time. It’s easier than he thought it would be.

Rating: T

Word Count; 2600~

Cakes For The Evans: A Blogging And Baking Adventure!

Kai Anderson’s Disaster Cake

Hey you! If you’ve made it this far down the list, thanks for supporting me as an author! I’ll be linking my AO3 here. I post everything there shortly before I post it here, and there are some older fics there you might enjoy along the way! It’s also easier to drop comments over there and I keep them open for non-members, so give me a shout if you liked what I wrote!

I love you all, you make me so happy, and without you support I would never be motivated to write! Cheers!

[writing-in-april]

Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde (1/?)

Part One: The introduction

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Reader meets a mysterious stranger at the library during a book club meeting.

Part Two, Part Three

Series Masterlist

A/N: Hey Heyyy! This is my first Dom!Spencer fic in so long!!! My last one was also funnily enough for a fic swap as is this one! I had @aperrywilliams for the fic swap organized by @imagining-in-the-margins. I had so much fun writing this one- it’s based on a prompt that I got from @andiebeaword and @spencers-dria helped me by guiding me with the book club idea- with a little twist! I am considering making this a series, if y’all are interested PLEASE let me know- I really want to because I had so much fun writing this. Thanks to all y’all for reading and requests are open!!

Warnings: 18+, Dom Spencer, Public Sex (is anyone that surprised??), Impact Play, Post Prison Spencer, Use of the nickname Doctor during sex, Spencer is a brat tamer, Spencer is morally ambiguous but doesn’t do anything explicitly immoral

Main Masterlist Word Count: 3.0k

As soon as you walked in through the large wooden doors it felt like history hit you over the head with a book. Even though it was on the small side for a library it still probably held more books than a normal public library, almost every wall was adorned with built-in shelves stacked from bottom to top with old books. They ranged in every subject you could think imaginable, from every point in history imaginable, and from every point of view that was imaginable. When you had first discovered this place it had felt like you had been transported to another world. You were surprised that more people didn’t know about this old library nestled in the corners of D.C, it was just sitting there idly watching as history passed by day by day, while it sat writing down all its secrets.

A meeting of the classics was scrawled on the standing white board you saw right when you walked into the library. A meeting of the classics from 7pm to 11:30 in reading room C were the exact words, you didn’t even really need to read them as you had been looking forward to this event for weeks.

You made your way down to the reading room that was specified, only encountering a few stragglers similar to yourself on the way down. You were somewhat new to the events that this library ran, only coming to the past four months. It was quickly becoming your favorite thing to do every month.

There was always a theme to each of the parties, ranging from different eras of history, specific novels, and including things that were open to interpretation. Tonight’s theme was as stated on the white board, a meeting of the classics, which had been described as “Pick your favorite literary icon from a classic novel and dress up as them.”

You had decided to not pick a character from a classic novel, but rather an author, Mary Shelly. You based your entire look on the iconic writer of Frankenstein (with a twist of course) because it had been your favorite novel as a child, it still was your favorite novel.

Once you had made it into the large reading room you took in the full room like you did every week. People were dressed as many outlandish characters, with some being more difficult to decipher than others. As you walked around the reading room you could feel the eyes of another on you.

You could feel his stare following you intently as you walked around mingling with the others that you had met before. The eyes belonged to a man you hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting yet, a man dressed as someone instantly recognizable, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. What other iconic character would be split down the middle, half innocent doctor and half evil alter ego.

Even behind the costume you could tell how attractive the man was. He was extremely tall and lanky, with deep brown eyes and the fluffiest brown hair you had ever seen.

“Who’s that?” You asked the married lady and gentlemen dressed up as Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. Maybe it was shameful that you didn’t know their actual names, but you guess that’s what some people want when they come to an event like this

“That’s Dr. Spencer Reid, he hasn’t been here for a while and he sometimes misses things because of work. You didn’t hear it from me, but I heard he got in trouble with the law, that’s why he hasn’t been here for almost six months.” Her gossipy voice was drenched in fake sugar that made you gag on the inside. You still did appreciate her information as it gained you the name of the man who couldn’t stop staring at you like he was trying to figure you out.

“Must not have been that bad if he’s already out now, or maybe he’s innocent.” Ms. Bennet shrugged her shoulders at that. You may have even been naive to not heed her warning, but the idea of getting to know the mysterious fluffy haired man that had been staring at you all night was too intriguing for you to ignore.

“Who are you?” The mysterious man asked when he finally decided to approach you instead of staring at you from across the room.

Trying to maintain the same level of mystery as the man had you dodging his question with a simple redirect, “Who’s asking?”

“I thought it was quite obvious who I was.” He was right it was obvious, but why would you let him know that despite the fact that you knew what character he was you could tell the man underneath was the real mystery of it all.

“You’re the one who is not obvious.” The back and forth you had already picked up with him was thrilling, you sensed the fact that in most conversations you would have with him it would be a kind of battle that you would have to win.

“If you must know, kind sir, I am dressed as Mary Shelly, author of Frankenstein, with a bit of a modern twist.” You made sure to call him sir instead of his earned honorific this time, to see if it would poke any buttons.

“I am not a sir since my name is Dr. Spencer Reid. I can see now who you are dressed as, but I would still argue that it is not what the intentions were when they set this up.” You could tell that he was only teasing you with the way the inflections of his voice sounded, you were glad your teasing had been a moderate success.

You did also provide him your name before deciding to poke his buttons once more,“But, isn’t she a classic, Dr. Reid?”

“But, you have not made her a classic anymore by putting as you say a ‘modern twist on things’ though I must say it does look well made.” You would’ve been offended if you could not tell that it was all in jest, though you still got the sense that you still were not seeing what all this man was about.

“Thank you, Doctor I made it myself. However, you still haven’t answered my question yet, Dr. Reid.” You asked the next question hoping he would get what you were implying, “Who are you?”

“I suspect you may already know, but I am dressed half as Dr. Jekyll and half as Mr. Hyde.” At least he started to somewhat catch on to the hidden meaning in your words, though you still had not dug up the real answer you were looking for. He was too intriguing to persuade you to stop digging, you wanted to find who the doctor really was, not the partial mask he was still using.

“Yes, I suspected as much, but aren’t you breaking the rules by dressing up as technically two characters?”

“Were there rules that said I couldn’t dress up as two characters?” He fell nicely into the small trap you had set for him, retorting quickly without thinking. Which you found odd for a man that was clearly intelligent.

“No, but were there rules that said I couldn’t dress up as a classic author with my own twist?” The look on his face had let you know you had won the debate. You smirked with triumph as you glanced over the man, taking note of each of his handsome features in case you would never see him again.

You decided to pivot the conversation to another question that was on the forefront of your mind,“Do you have a dark side, Dr. Reid?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” He was deflecting, but he didn’t seem agitated by your question, simply amused by your dogged curiosity.

“I am curious though, what are you exactly underneath it all Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde?” Your coy smile was most definitely not lost on him, he could see right through your facade. He could see right through Mary Shelly to find the true you underneath. You only wished you could figure him out as well, you wondered how he got so good at being able to read people in an instant.

“I haven’t figured that out yet.” Well, at least you got the answer to what you were looking for, even if the answer wasn’t as straightforward as you may have been expecting. But, you were realizing that Dr. Spencer Reid was probably anything but straightforward.

Your heart was pumping fast, his words had a bigger effect on you than he had probably expected, your panties hidden underneath your long dress were dampening quickly. Though as you saw the smirk on his face grow as you fidgeted in your chair you realized that maybe this was intention all along.

You excused yourself for a moment with a veiled excuse of going to the bathroom. You hoped he’d follow right behind you, to see that you were going to one of the empty reading rooms. If you had read his intentions correctly the heavy doors on each of the rooms should significantly squash any noises he or you would make.

Sure enough after an appropriate amount of time had passed so as to not raise suspicion, the good doctor (that may or may not be good at all) entered the empty room.

He brought you into a dominating kiss that made you want to cower at the same time as be completely defiant. You fought with valor as he tried to consume you entirely with the kiss, not letting his tongue slip into your mouth for as long as you could hold off. In the end you still lost the fight when he lifted you up onto one of the large wooden desks in the room, causing a gasp to fall from your lips that finally gave him full access to your hot wet mouth. He suddenly pulled away to pinch your cheeks together with his hand to make you look at him which made you whimper pathetically at first, but you appreciated his next question immensely.

“Do you want this?” You nodded as vigorously as you could with his hand pinching your cheeks.

He however was not satisfied with my eager nod and prompted you to confirm once more with an even harsher tone, “Speak up when you’re talking.”

“Yes, Doctor.” You replied with his honorific instinctually and you were pleasantly surprised with the eager groan that came from his lips in response. Plus, you were slightly rewarded with being able to feel his lips on your collarbone, sending even more shivers down your spine.

“Let me know immediately if that changes.” The contrast of his sweet meaning words with his hand gripping your jaw was jarring, but you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed it. It just made you want to be as bratty as possible because even if he was harsh there was still the underlying care in everything he did, you felt safe.

“Maybe I should just call you Mister instead, since that’s clearly your dominant side.”He growled into your neck that was quickly getting covered in hickies, next thing you knew he flipped you around to face the desk closest to you with your back to his chest.

“Bend over.” He commanded, to which in response you opened your mouth to retort. Instead of letting you run your mouth as you had done before he wound his hands through your hair and pushed you down to take the position he wanted. He then pulled up your dress to uncover the panties you had soaked through. You thought maybe he was going to give me some relief of the ache in my core, but you were given a harsh slap on your ass instead.

A whimper involuntarily came out from your lips from the harshness of the slap that you assumed was revenge for not following his commands. He then spoke with deadly conviction, “I want you to say thank you, doctor after every time I spank you.”

You only agreed because you were afraid that if you did not comply now he may not give you what you wanted. So, as soon as the next stinging slap came down on the same spot as before the phrase fell from your lips, “Thank you, Doctor!”

He continued his repeated hits onto your ass and you made sure to never miss thanking him with a cry. Once he was satisfied with how much you were punished for your sassy remark he rubbed over the inflamed skin of your ass with his large, unbelieving hands. He moved your panties to the side to dip his deft fingers to run through your folds, collecting some of your wetness. You whined loudly and perhaps pathetically in response to him only lighting touching you instead of obliging the heat you felt everywhere.

“Be patient, you’ll get what you want since you decided to start listening to me.” He snapped which caused your knees to buckle again.

“I can be patient, Doctor.” He definitely appreciated the continued use of his honorific in this scandalous situation as he let out a groan almost every time you said it. Instead of answering you he started to undo the pants of his outfit, a pair of slacks that were also equally as split as the rest of his costume. You didn’t look back to see his cock because you did not want to be punished by him twice in one night. But, you certainly felt it.

You could tell just as he was running the head of his cock through your folds and pulling your panties to the side again that he would be the biggest you had ever been with. What should have worried you slightly only ended up sending a shock through your core instead. He was at least somewhat gentle when he finally started to enter you, letting you get somewhat adjusted before sinking in all the way to the hilt.

As soon as he sensed that you had adjusted he started a rough brutal pace, not that you were complaining as he hit all of your most sensitive spots as his cock dragged through your walls.

He made no effort to stifle the loud moans that were coming from your mouth, maybe he thought the thick wooden doors would stifle the noises. But, there was no way no one would be able to hear the unintelligible wails that were coming from you.

“You like bringing out this side of me don’t you?” He rasped out after he pushed your torso back down to flat on the desk once you started to lift yourself up on your elbows. When you only answered with a noise that was not understandable he prompted you to speak up with another slap on your ass and said, “I said earlier to speak up when you’re trying to talk to someone.”

“Yes, Doctor!” You finally were able to cry out with a few more slaps to your ass from him.

Each time you kept getting close to the edge he’d pull away from you slightly dashing your orgasm away from you cruelly. Each time you decided to whine out loud to voice your displeasure even if it was involuntarily he would just prolong edging you for even longer. You were babbling incoherently when he pulled you by the hair so your back was pressed into his chest and after a few more moments of hearing you beg nonsensically with tears in your eyes he finally gave you the command,

“You can cum.”

“Thank you, Doctor!” You wailed as your orgasm washed over you in devastating waves, you were sure no other man had made you finish so hard in your life. You kept repeating, “Thank you, Doctor!”over and over until you had completely come down from what was arguably the best orgasm of your life. Your own orgasm helped propel his forward, and you made sure to confirm out loud that you were ok with him cumming inside you. The warmth that filled you as he pumped into you a few more times caused one last groan to come from you that was weirdly harmonious with the groan from the doctor.

Normal aftercare wasn’t really applicable in this type of situation, you hardly knew him and the added fact that you were in an old library with a party down the hall didn’t help either. He still cleaned you up with a softness you had yet to see from him during your short encounter. Aloe probably would’ve been the best option to soothe your raw bottom, but he did massage you for a few minutes after he cleaned the rest of you. He had even made sure your clothes that were not period accurate, as he had pointed out earlier, were neat before you both left. There were no cuddles and soft loving words exchanged, but you still felt immensely cared for by a man who claims he might not be a good man. He was a strange case.

“You still never answered my question, Doctor.” You stated as you stood on the steps of the library after you two had slipped out to leave.

“That’s because I still don’t have an answer.” And, with that you parted ways into the cool air of D.C. You hoped he had the same feelings as you when you had both parted ways, you wanted to see him again. There was another meeting next month, maybe then you would get your chance again.

The thrill that ran through your veins whenever you interacted with him, whether he was fucking you or having a rousing conversation about classic literature made you want him no matter whether he was Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde. You’d take them both.

Part Two, Part Three| Series Masterlist

———

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar

Spencer Reid/CM:

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes

Dom Spencer (new tag list):

[chasing-classics]

Our Little Secret Sessions- Nate Jacobs x Reader

Pairing(s): Nate Jacobs x Reader

Warning(s): SMUT, language, toxic relationships, older reader, dubious consent

Requested: Yes, by @bokillylovesloki​

Summary: After landing a job as the high school’s new counselor you settle into your new home, unaware of what danger lurks just outside your front door.

 Part 2

 You blew the hair out of your face, managing to load the last box full of kitchen appliances onto the hardwood floor. You smiled, looking around triumphantly at your new home. It was spacious, far too big for just you, but it had been an absolute steel on the market. Once you had gotten the call from your new boss, Principal Hayes, that you had landed the job at East Highland High School as the new counselor you quickly packed your bags and jumped at the opportunity. You were fresh out of college, bright and intelligent, but still young for the job. You were saddened to leave your friends and family up North, but this job had been far too good to pass up. Now all you had from your hometown were two dozen boxes of mementos and furniture, your old yet faithful car, and a handful of missed calls from your friends/parents asking if you made it safely. You were so busy scrolling through the various texts and voicemails that you didn’t notice a lanky figure enter the doorway of your humble abode.

  ‘’Hey,’’ a deep voice caused you to gasp and nearly drop your phone onto the floor.

 You spun around to find a guy standing at the entrance of your new home, where you had stupidly left the front door wide open. Your eyes quickly analyzed him. Dark hair, brown eyes, pouty lips that were set in a cocky smirk, and a jawline that you were convinced could cut through glass. He leaned lazily against the door, his hand still held up from when he had casually been knocking against the wooden surface. He was tall, incredibly tall. He looked slightly younger than you, maybe twenty-one or even twenty-three.

 ‘’Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I live next door and noticed you were moving in, I wanted to know if you needed any help,’’ the guy chuckled a bit, eyeing your tense form. You laughed in relief, hand on your chest in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

 ‘’I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. Thank you for the kind offer, I’m Y/n, Y/n y/l/n,’’ you offered a welcoming smile, stretching out your hand to properly shake his hand. He returned the favor and the moment his massive hand took hold of yours’ it felt like icicles had been thrusted into your back.

 ‘’I’m Nate Jacobs, it’s nice to meet you y/n,’’ he smiled back. What you assumed he meant to be a reassuring smile instead filled your insides with butterflies and sent your nerves into a frenzy. He was attractive, but you could vaguely hear the alarm bells going off inside your head.

 ‘’Well thank you very much Nate, but I think I brought everything inside already,’’ you referred to the numerous boxes and wrapped up furniture that was currently littering your new living room, spilling into the kitchen.

 ‘’No problem, just let me know if you need help with anything,’’ that crooked smile was a permanent feature on his face, you quickly discovered. You nodded your thanks, moving to close the door when the power suddenly went out.

 ‘’Great, just my luck,’’ you groaned, moving to find a flashlight somewhere.

 ‘’If you want I can check your electric panel?’’ Nate’s deep voice sent shivers up your spine.

 ‘’Are you sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble? I can call an electrician in the morning,’’ you offered, finding out that said flashlight that to your frustration was full of dead batteries. Candles it was.

 ‘’It’s no problem at all,’’ you could hear the amusement in his voice as he brushed past you to check the panel. The heat from his body filled you with a sense of longing, something primal. For a moment, you wondered what it would be like to moan out his name.

 ‘’It should be in the backyard, by the picnic table,’’ you called out, shrugging off the less-than-appropriate thoughts running wild in your imagination.

 You had successfully located a handful of candles along with a lighter. The cozy glow of the flames illuminated your house to the point you could now see where you were going without bumping into anything. Noticing that your phone battery was running low, you set it down on the counter and prayed nothing more would happen tonight. You had to be up early for the first day of school tomorrow and you didn’t aspire to look like an extra from the Walking Dead due to dark circles and lack of sleep. As you nervously tapped your foot while awaiting Nate’s return, you squealed in delight as the lights came back on. You turned your attention the French doors that led to the backyard, the smile quickly fading from your face when you saw Nate’s drenched form. You bit your lip when his blue hoodie clung to his toned form, the bulges that were his abs teasing you.

 ‘’Got a towel I can borrow?’’ Nate smirked, his hair falling into his eyes as he shook himself off.

 Your mouth still hung open as you quickly dug through a random box, successfully finding a fluffy cotton towel.

 ‘’What happened?’’ you wondered, eyes straining to remain on his face and not his muscular body.

 ‘’I turned the power back on, I must’ve accidentally reset your sprinkler system too and, well you can figure out the rest,’’ he scoffed, removing his drenched hoodie.

  Jesus Christ.

  ‘’See something you like?’’ Nate’s voice was low as he leaned down closer to you. You could feel his breath hitting the side of your face and shoulder. Your eyes instantly fell to the floor, your cheeks set aflame with embarrassment.

 ‘’Don’t look away, doll,’’ he whispered, hand gently cupping your neck to get you to meet his gaze.

 ‘’I don’t think I’m your type,’’ your voice was soft. Low, but vulnerable,  and Nate took notice.

 ‘’Because you’re a few years older? Come on y/n, we’re both more mature than that,’’ he groaned, taking one step closer to you, than another and another. Your back quickly met the wall, gasping at the rough contact.

 ‘’This isn’t right,’’ you whispered, trembling as Nate’s thumb stroked your bottom lip.

 ‘’What are you? Twenty-four?’’ Nate drew back, his thumb still pressed against your bottom lip as you nodded your head.

 ‘’So what’s a couple of years?’’ his husky voice groaned into your ear as he bent down, pressing open mouth kisses on your exposed shoulder, up the base of your neck.

 ‘’N-Nate,’’ you whimpered, clenching your fists until your knuckles turned white.

 ‘’Just give me tonight, you’re a beautiful young woman, let me show you what you do to me,’’ he grunted, rolling his hips against your clothed center. You could feel the bulge straining against his still wet jeans. He was big, you could feel it. And you were desperate for his touch.

 You craned your neck up to kiss his lips, throwing caution to the wind. It was just a few years, so what if he was just a couple of years younger? He clearly wanted you as badly as you craved him. His height, his arrogance, everything about him screamed that the age difference between the two of you wasn’t much, that you had nothing to worry about. He looked no younger than maybe twenty-one. The way he carried himself put your mind at ease. You allowed yourself to enjoy just one night with a handsome stranger.

 His kisses became rougher with each passing second, his hands running up and down your body in a frenzy. You moaned and mewled as his teeth nipped at your collarbone, your neck, and then your lip. His rough hands easily covered your breasts through your thin shirt. Your own hands stroked his bare chest and alternated from tugging his hair to clawing at his back in a teasing manner.

 ‘’I’m going to make sure you remember this,’’ he grunted, pressing his clothed erecting to your legging-cladded center, pushing it into you and further into the wall. You whimpered, kissing the column of his neck, tracing a vein that ran along the side of it with your tongue.

 You yelped when he moved away from you, dragging you toward the surface of your kitchen island. Your cheek collided with the smooth surface, hands sprayed out on either side of your head to cushion the impact. You shivered as he easily tore through the material of your shirt as if he had claws. Your skin broke out into goosebumps despite the hot later summer air.

 ‘’Look at you, all excited and needy for me and I haven’t even gotten started,’’ Nate groaned, hand pressed against the exposed small of your back, running upwards to the lacey material of your bra.

 ‘’Nate,’’ you moaned out as he began grinding himself into your backside. You could feel the heat emitting from his pants and felt the angry throbbing of his cock even through his jeans. His left hand cupped your breast underneath your bra while the right easily managed to unclasp it. You fidgeted as his fingers tweaked and rolled your sensitive bud, the other hand doing the same to the other breast. You whined as he gripped your tits, forcing you backwards to meet his thrusts as he grinded into you harder.

 ‘’Can’t wait to stretch that pretty pussy, make you ride this fat dick,’’ he grunted, tangling a hand into your hair and forcing your face upwards as he roughly kissed you. The kiss had you whining, panting for more. Your cheeks flushed as you felt the familiar sensation of your slickness coating your womanhood. You were quickly flipped around so that you were now able to look up and face Nate. His lips were red from the rough kisses, yours felt bruised and plump. He eyed your exposed tits as you slowly took off the lace bra. He easily leaned over, taking one bud into his hungry mouth as he began biting and sucking. You threw your head back, using your elbows to support your weight on top of the island, your legs trapping Nate between them.

 You stroked his hair as he fervently sucked on your sensitive nipple. You cried out each time his teeth yanked and tugged on the delicate flesh. Once he had his fill, he switched to the other and began the process all over again. You were so lost in the erotic moment that you didn’t even notice his hand make its’ way into your leggings until you felt him roughly pull your lace underwear to the side and forcefully plunged two digits into your tight canal.

 ‘’Ah! Nate, it’s too much!’’ you cried out, burying your face into his neck as he lapped at your hardened nipple.

 ‘’I’ll tell you when you’ve had too much,’’ he growled, resuming to thrust his fingers into your pussy as you whined and whimpered below him. All you could do was grasp his biceps and whine as he stretched you out to his liking. There was something completely carnal in the way he took control and used your body like an instrument. His breathing became more labored and intense as his hand sped up, the obscene squelches causing you to hide your face further every time he entered you. You both knew your release was quickly approaching from the way your pussy clenched around his index and middle finger. The way your nails dug into the skin of his arms as you moaned and squirmed under him.

 ‘’W-what?’’ you cried as he retracted his hand, Nate quickly shutting you up as he forced his fingers into your mouth. You gagged, taken back at his rough actions, moving to pull back your head in protest. Nate would have none of that.

 ‘’No, no. Be a good slut and suck on them for me,’’ he commanded, a heavy hand forcing you further onto his hand as he yanked your hair.

 You breathed through your nose, tears brimming the corners of your eyes as you tried not to choke on his slender digits. The sweet, tangy taste of your juices danced along your tongue.

 ‘’Good girl, now spit,’’ he growled, forcing his fingers deeper to the back of your throat. You coughed as saliva coated his hand, desperately trying to catch your breath the second he released you.

 You had no time to prepare yourself as he roughly picked you up, managing to shove your leggings and underwear down in one pull. He sat you on the counter as he hurriedly forced down his jeans. The hand that as coated in your saliva angrily jerked at his impressive girth. You began having second thoughts on sleeping with Nate at that point, his thickness and length alone were something to be afraid of. He was going to destroy you. You opened your mouth to protest when he forcibly grabbed your thighs, dragging them apart and pushing you down so that your bak met the cold surface of your counter.

 ‘’Scream for me, fight if you want,’’ Nate whispered before jerking your body forward, thrusting his entire cock into your cunt.

 ‘’Nate!’’ you screamed, body lurching back from the force of his thrust. You pulled and slapped at his chest as he began bucking into you, a firm hand pressed between your bouncing breasts to hold you down into place.

 ‘’Fuck, it’s so much better than I expected,’’ he moaned, jaw going slack as the sound of his balls slapping against the soft flesh of your ass echoed throughout the room. You continued to scream and claw at the counter, nails digging into the palms of your hands as your body bounced from his pounding. You had never taken a man as thick as Nate, and it hurt in the best way. You struggled against him, torn between giving into the pleasure and desperate for some space to relieve the burning feeling of your insides being stretched to accommodate him. The hand that was pressed on your chest slid down to firmly rest against your stomach.

 ‘’I can feel myself moving inside you,’’ he grunted, his cock throbbing inside your greedy cunt. You whimpered, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your lips parted in complete pleasure and need.

 ‘’Harder, Nate,’’ you begged, legs now wrapped around him as your hands gripped his forearms to have something to hold onto.

 You regretted your words as his thrusts angrily sped up to the point you worried your island would collapse from under you. A hand gripped your throat as he dragged your body back and forth to meet his brutal thrusts. You were a symphony of moans, cries, and nearly animalistic noises as he fucked into you. It felt like he was splitting you open with his cock, but it was one of the most divine feelings you had ever experienced in your lifetime. Lips crashed against yours as he forced one of your legs higher around him, the new position allowing him to his that sweet, sensitive spot inside the depths of your core.

 ‘’I’m going to cum,’’ you moaned out clawing at his shoulders as you gripped him in every sense of the word.

 ‘’Cum on my cock, baby. Milk me,’’ he snarled, hips snapping and bucking wildly.

 One particularly sharp thrust triggered your release as you moaned Nate’s name, quivering under him as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your entire being. Nate’s thrusts slowed down only slightly to admire the view of your juices coating his member, the tightness in his balls alerting him of his own release. He gripped your jaw in his hand, forcing you to keep your eyes solely on him as his thick release painted the walls of your cunt. His breathing was hot, fanning your face as a thin sheet of sweet coated both of your bodies. For a moment, you just laid there as his dick continue to shoot cum deep inside of you.

 ‘’That was amazing,’’ your voice was hoarse, lips trailing along his jaw as he smirked above you.

 ‘’I’m not done yet,’’ he replied, taking you into his arms and leading you to your couch in the living room. He dropped your sore body onto the cushiony surface, towering over you as his dick stood proudly once more, your combined juices still coating it. His eyes fell onto your exposed pussy, where his cum began seeping out your abused hole.

 ‘’Get on your knees, turn around, and hold onto the back of the couch,’’ he growled, his cock bobbing.

 You hesitated, resulting in Nate forcefully turning you over himself, as if you were nothing more than a ragdoll. Your hands gripped the back of the couch as he kneed your legs apart. The air left your lungs as he buried himself to the hilt once more before he began rutting into you.

  By the time you awoke you hardly had anytime to get ready. You searched your memory for a moment before you realized you had passed out after Nate took you from behind for the third time last night. You hardly had anytime to shower and look presentable before dashing out the door lest you be late for your new job. You winced with every step you took, although you tried to pass it off as a smile to your new colleagues. You wondered if after work you should stop by Nate’s house, or if it had been a one-night stand. Either way, he was probably at his own job by now. If he wanted to see you again, he knew where to find you.

 You sighed in content as you sat down at your desk in your very own office. You smiled at your golden name plate and a welcoming plate of cookies left by the ladies who worked at the front office. A knocking interrupted your thoughts.

 ‘’Ah, Principal Hayes, good morning,’’ you beamed, pushing yourself to stand up and shake your employers hand.

 ‘’Ms. y/l/n I hope the office is to your liking?’’ Hayes grinned, shaking your hands in a firm but welcoming grip.

 ‘’It’s more than enough, truly, thank you,’’ you smiled.

 ‘’Terrific, I hope you don’t mind but one of our students wanted to welcome you to the campus.’’

 ‘’How sweet! Of course,’’ you smiled warmly.

 Your warm smile was shattered and the air was knocked out of you the minute the figure walked through your office door. Nate Jacobs.

 ‘’Hi, I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Nate Jacobs, welcome toe East High,’’ he smirked, reaching out his hand to shake. The same hand that a few hours ago had been finger banging you on your kitchen counter. The same hand that had wrapped around your neck as he came inside you. Nate fucking Jacobs.

 ‘’H-hi. I’m Ms. y/l/n,’’ you stuttered out, a cold sweat falling over you.

 ‘’Well I’ll let you do your thing, don’t be late for class, Nathan,’’ Hayes bid his farewells and before you could protest, was out the door. You turned your attention to Nate, eyes narrowed and lips in a firm line.

 ‘’What the fuc-‘’

 ‘’I’d watch your mouth if I were you, Ms. y/l/n. Wouldn’t want a pretty face like yours to end up behind bars. Dirty sluts like you don’t do well in jail. Especially if you’re locked up for sex with a minor. Pretty sure that’s statutory rape,’’ he grinned that evil Cheshire cat grin.

 You suddenly felt extremely nauseous.

‘’Y-y-you said you were just a few years younger,’’ you whispered, taking a step back as he stalked towards you. Out of instinct you closed your eyes when you felt his breath on your neck, hands sliding to rest on your hips.

 ‘’I didn’t lie. I am younger. You should’ve asked for specifics,’’ he whispered, one hand cupping your ass through your skirt. You pushed him off of you, devastated and terrified and disgusted all at once.

 ‘’What kind of game are you playing?’’ you snarled. The same grin was stuck on his devilish face.

 ‘’No games. Those are for children. I’m going to tell it to you straight; anytime I say so, you get on your knees for me. Whether I want you to blow me after a football game in the locker room, or bend your legs over my shoulders as I rail you in the backseat of my truck, no matter where or when. If I want you, I get you.’’

 You felt the tears begin to build up in your eyes as a shaky hand pressed against your mouth to muffle any cries that dare trickle out.

 ‘’Why are you doing this?’’ you sniffled, shaking as his hands roamed your body.

 ‘’I wanted you, so I did what I had to, to get you. And now-,’’ he bent forward to kiss the corner of your mouth.

 ‘’I own you.’’

[mayaflowerxs]

STRAYKIDS AS PETS

(Hyung Line)

Pairing: skz x reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: fluff. Lots of cute moments.

Synopsis: How you and skz member meet and how it’s been going ever since. (Only dogs or cats as pets)

Chan:

Definitely a Golden retriever. You found Chan late at night, you and your ex boyfriend had gotten into a massive fight and you ran out the house to get a fresh breath of air. While you were walking, the sun had gone down and you ended up at the park. No longer feeling safe to stay out, you also didn’t want to go back to your ex’s place. As you bring your phone out to call your best friend, you kept looking around. Goosebumps trailing up your arm as the chilly wind blew by you. “Hey y/bsf/n, Me and him got in a fight again. I’m at the park and it’s really dark, come pick me up please?” While you were on the phone, you hadn’t realized the Golden dog start approaching you from behind. He had smelled you the second you stepped foot onto the premises. He’s been eating the scraps the kids leave by the tables. Seeing & smelling you intrigued him and he couldn’t help but want to get near you. “Thank you so much! Alright see you then.” As you hanged up, it had started to get pitched black, only the distant light of your neighborhood can be seen.

As you go to turn on the flash, it had flashed onto Chan. Squealing you fall off the bench and flat on your butt. Wincing as the sharp rocks scraped your palm. Chan immediately whines as he didn’t mean to hurt and scare you. With his nose, he nudged your palm for you to open it. Wanting to see how bad your injury was. “It’s alright buddy, see? No blood.” Chan breathes out, the sudden worry slowly dissolving. “You’re pretty cute.” You say as you go to pat his head. Chan couldn’t help but wag his tail, immediately feeling a strong connection between you and him. You knew you couldn’t leave Chan there and when there was no tag you knew you had to take him home. When your best friend came to pick you up, you guys went to the vet which was pretty hard since most of the ones near you were closed. No chip. Chan panicked when you put him back inside the car and started going to the route your best friend takes to get to her place. Not realizing that it was also the route the pound ends up at. Chan felt a strong wave of ptsd washing in and started whining. Barking and scratching the door. “What’s wrong buddy?” Howling as he nuzzled his nose in your neck, in a way begging you not to take him to the pound. That never happened. Now a year later you were in your small apartment with Chan. His bright blue diamond collar around him with his name shined brightly on it. Absolutely loves the time he has spent with you. Everyday is a blessing for him, he’s the comfort you always needed. When you wake up, he immediately gets up as well. When you go to work, he walks you to the door. Looking through the window until you drive out of your parking spot. Spotting you even when you guys are on the third floor. Making sure to park somewhere in his view, the last time you didn’t. You got a complaint about a barking dog 5 minutes after you drove off. When you’re sick, he uses his body heat to keep you warm. When you sleep he makes sure to not make as much noise to not wake you. 250/10 best boy.

Minho:

He’d be a Siamese cat. Now, now. Minho was actually a stray when you found him. His mother got killed by a coyote and his siblings were caught in a fire. He was the only one who survived and he was pretty traumatized, he was always wary with his surroundings and anyone really. Never trusted anyone or anything. When a pack of dogs started chasing him, usually he would fend for himself but given that he was outnumbered and had little to no energy. He used all that he had to run to the nearest house. Fitting himself through the small fence hole as the dogs barked at him. Baring their teeth at him, running inside the small vent the house had that led under the house. Staying there until he was sure no dogs were around. Feeling so tired, he had fallen asleep. He woke up when the slam of a car door was in his ear shot. Smelling the scent of chicken, he peaked his head out and saw you holding a bag of KFC, (if you don’t eat chicken or like KFC then imagine something else haha) His stomach grumbled as he licked his lips.

It’s been almost two days since the last time he had eaten. The rats he had caught had diseases and he really didn’t want to deal with infected rats much less, eat them. As you enter your house, you were engulfed by the hot heat pent up in your house. Opening the windows to let out the hot air and in the cool air, Minho slowly crawled out of his hideout. Peaking his head out to see inside your house. Instantly spotting the bag filled with the delicious chicken he craved dearly. He had a plan, while you were in the room. He’d go in, grab a wing and rush out. But it only backfired when he got in and got carried away by the great smell of the food. Not realizing you had closed the door and windows once cool air got in. Making your way over to the kitchen. Not even hearing your footsteps, he jumps when he hears your voice. Dropping the chicken in his mouth. “Uh...hi.” He hisses at you. Your guys first interaction was a mess. He hissed and threw his paw (with claws out & everything) at you. When you let him out, he quickly ran out. Running until he wasn’t near the house anymore. When he came to a stop, he felt this lonesome feeling in the pit of his stomach. The soft voice of yours ringing in his ear. He felt bad, you were being nothing but nice but he returned your niceness with hisses and scratches. By the next morning, you open your door to get your mail when you see him sleeping on your patio. After 5 months, he was officially named Minho. His grey collar around his neck with your address imprinted on it. Spending most of his time annoying the heck out of you. But you still love him. Sometimes his tree tower gets boring so he results in napping on your lap. When you’re not home he looks out the window. Smirking at the dogs who previously chased him. They’re the same stray dogs running around like wild animals while he had a home. He has amazing food, his water is always cleaned along with a litter box how cool is that?! And he has the best human to love him even when he was cold hearted to them at first. He really was glad that piece of chicken brought him a great home and human.

Changbin:

He’s a Rottweiler for sure. He met you at a dog park, his owner was a 7 year old girl. Terrible owner, she was in a family of seven. Four siblings who were very irresponsible and very ignorant. Poor parents, they were too nice which the kids took advantage of. While the youngest of the family was busy brushing Changbin’s thin fur very aggressively, he looked out to the other dogs. Wishing he was running around freely, ironic how they came to the dog park so he can run around freely and yet he still feels the same way as he always does when he’s back at home, encaged. Trapped. As he was looking at the other dogs, he saw one in particular walk in. Jumping in excitement as it’s tail wagged and looked up at its owner. When looking in the direction the dog was staring at. He froze in his spot. The most beautiful human stood there. As if an angel had appeared before him. Like his inner wild animal had just screamed, ‘MINE’ you really were one of a kind. He didn’t know what to do, but what he did know is that if anyone was going to keep wasting more of his time, it definitely would be you. The little girl got distracted when her mother had called her name. Using this distraction, he got up and jogged his way over. The male dog you came with had ran off in joy. As you were sat on the bench and smiling as Seungmin had joined his usually park pal, Felix. You didn’t realize Changbin had made his way over to you until he sat down in front of you.

“Oh! Hello there! Aren’t you a cutie?” You say as you scratch his chin. Changbin felt his heart flutter, getting up from his spot as he got closer to you. Nuzzling his head over your legs. He didn’t know what came over him, it was wrong. Especially when the human he felt so fondly of already had a pet. Changbin smelled the scent Seungmin left on you, he did all that he can to not growl at the thought of another dog scenting you. He knew that if Seungmin were to find out he would definitely not react nicely to a random dog scenting his human. But he couldn’t stop himself, he wanted you. He wanted to go home with you. Heck, he wanted to befriend Seungmin as well and become one big family. One could only imagine. But things did go for the better. Changbin spent most of his time with you and when you had to leave. You saw the family that pertained to Changbin. Seeing how annoyed the older kids looked and how much the parents weren’t doing anything to keep them from giving attitudes to the dogs that ran past them. You had enough when you saw the girl start tugging on Changbin’s collar practically choking him. Hearing his whines broke your heart. Walking over you got the attention of the parents. “That’s no way to let your daughter treat your dog like that. Don’t you see how much he’s hurting?” The parents already looked frustrated enough that their kids were being brats. The youngest started throwing a fit about how she can’t do anything right. Finally the father had enough and exploded. “You guys are all ungrateful! If this is how you guys are with him then you guys don’t deserve him.” Grabbing his lease and clipping it on his collar he walks over and hands it to you. “Keep him, please. He already looks happier with you, I know you’ll do a better job than we can ever do.” Walking off with his family. You stood there bewildered. Mouth agape, but to Changbin he was thrilled. Tail wagging as his mouth was wide, tongue out in content. Looking up at you with adoration. In the distance, Seungmin and Felix looked at the scene before them. A confused Min wondering what the hell had happened. Adjusting was a bit difficult for Changbin. Don’t get me wrong he loved every second with you but because he scented you over the scent Seungmin left on you. He didn’t exactly have a nice bond with Min. He couldn’t be in the same place as Min without him huffing and walking away. Over time, they had gotten closer. Getting used to the fact that they were now sharing their beloved human. Having the same interests, hobbies, and the number one common thing they shared of them all. The love they have for you. Very protective boy. Now when you guys go back to the dog park, he also befriended Felix. But after a while, he runs back to you and sits by your side. Glaring at any dog who dares get a bit too close to you. Nudging your leg when you scold him for being mean to the other dogs. Looking up at you with puppy eyes as a way for you to forgive him. You can’t resist his eyes and blow a kiss at him as you coo at his adorable self. ‘My human’ he thinks. The flutter in his heart still present.

Hyunjin:

He would be a Norwegian Forest Cat. In all honesty, Hyunjin hated your guts. He didn’t know why. Well actually he did. You see he was your grandmother’s baby boy. He was like her child and let’s just say he was SPOILED. You and your family are pretty wealthy. Most of your cousins grew up to be brats and think just because they have money they get to act however they wanted. Your mother although didn’t want anything to do with the family. Ashamed at how her siblings acted and how that affected their kids. The only family member she kept in touch was your grandmother who she loved dearly. Hyunjin had to face your cousins countless of times. They were either brats and hated his presence or wanted to break and shred his bubble and hug the daylights out of him. Either way, they never treated him properly. All the pampering the maids gave him each morning which was brush his hair, put him his nice outfit for the day. Give him a message and more, all went out the window once your cousins came to treat his relaxing day a living hell. So when you came to visit he only assumed you to be just like them. But your grandmother had fallen very ill. So he couldn’t worry too much about your presence, his only concern was his mama. That was until she passed away. He was devastated when he woke up and she didn’t. And if things couldn’t get worse, the day you visited was the day your grandmother had you promise to take care of her little Jinnie for her. You couldn’t say no to her.

But you were running out of ways to get Hyunjin to like you. Or to at least not to scratch the soul out of you. Not only was he grieving for your grandmother but he had to put up with what he thought was one of the many annoying bratty grand children. In the end, you gave up in making amends with him so you kept your distance. You couldn’t give him up and even if he hated you, you made a promise and you were going to stick to it. You tried to stay out of his way most of the time. Waking up early before he did, you cleaned his water and gave him his food. The fancy kind because your grandmother believed a ‘good’ boy like him deserved more than regular dry food. The money your grandmother had left, was given to you and a portion to Hyunjin as well. It was enough to not have you work for the rest of your life but that wasn’t you. You didn’t want to stop doing what you wanted to pursue simply because of money. You still wanted to go out and do what you loved. So yeah, you kept busy. And when you got a promotion, you had less time spent at home. Hyunjin should’ve been glad. Well, he was. That was until he heard you outside. Peaking through the window he saw you crouched down. Helping a stray cat who pretended to look very ill. Cooing at them, you fed them the last bit of your lunch. Rubbing their back as they purred. He couldn’t help but feel jealous. Why were you petting some random cat and not him? You were barely home and now that you are, all the attention is onto a damn cat that doesn’t live here. He knows it was wrong to think this way but he couldn’t help it. You weren’t the annoying brat he thought you were. You were this sweet angel that did nothing but try to make him feel as safe and comfortable as possible. When you entered the house, he felt himself frown when you completely ignored him standing by the door. You didn’t realize this but for the remainder of the day, wherever you went he sorta trailed behind you. Still keeping a distance. When you laid down on your bed, you heard his little meow just as he jumped on the bed. You stopped whatever you were doing and looked at him. Waiting for a hiss or bite about to strike at you. But it never came, instead he lend out a paw on your arm. No claws clawing your arm. Only the soft fur & pad touching your arm. Inching closer and closer, he climbed on top of you and laid there. You smiled softly at him. Hesitant, but pet his head softly. His tail wagging a bit as he took a nap on your chest. Maybe living with you wasn’t so bad. He still smelled the scent on that other cat so he didn’t forget in stretching so far out that every inch of your chest, stomach and neck got covered in his scent. That atta show that stray to stay away from his human.

[springismss]

First Meeting - BotW Link

a/n; this was originally part of a work called ‘Adventurous’ on Wattpad & Ao3. i wasn’t proud of how i first wrote this, so i’ve since edited it, hopefully it’s better than before. enjoy!

pairing; BotW Link x gender neutral! reader

reblogs/feedback/likes are appriciated & encouraged. DO NOT repost/steal any of my works.

warnings; n/a

word count; 846

links; TLoZ Masterlist | Works Masterlist

It had been one hundred years since Calamity Ganon had practically destroyed Hyrule. Infecting both the Divine Beasts and Guardians with malice. The Champions falling and the same fate seemed to take the appointed knight Princess Zelda.

Tales of this fallen knight were passed down throughout the generations that had managed to survive and re-grow. Also told were the stories of the princess who remained trapped deep within the walls of Hyrule castle. The young maiden trying her hardest to fend off the evil inside until the day her knight reappeared. The day the four Divine Beasts calmed and the knight drew the darkness sealing sword again - ending the calamity once and for all.

Just off the North-Western most point of the Tabantha region sat a quiet little village. One that managed to somehow survive the wrath of Calamity Ganon, the guardians and the endless hordes of monsters.

The residents of the village offered their aid over the years to those who needed it. Opening their homes to the injured and tired who found themselves there. Slowly building a reputation amongst the other villages and travellers alike. One every inhabitant prided themselves on.

Enough so to catch the attention of a traveller they'd never imagine they'd ever host.

A soft hum passed your lips as you walked around the shop, the basket resting on your hip as you checked the stock you passed, refilling what needed to be replenished. The past few days had been busy with merchants and travellers, and having a moment to finally be able to breathe and take your time felt like a reward sent by the Goddess herself.

Content in your own little world, you didn't even hear the movements behind you until it was too late, the basket at your side dropping with a thud as you knocked into a person. Quickly crouching down, you picked up the items scattered on the floor. “Oh Hylia! I am so sorry~".

Your words cut short as you looked at the figure in front of you. Your eyes had to be deceiving you. There stood a doppelgänger of the legendary knight. You had to be crazy if you thought it was him, he'd fallen while trying to protect the princess. Then again, there was always the stories of him being placed into a deep sleep. One that would wipe all memories but repair his body, his wounds easing over the rumoured 100 years. The Sheikah presented him with a device to help him on his journey again if he was to return. "Are you okay there?".

The sound of a voice brought you out of your trance-like state with a confused blink. The room around you coming back into focus as you looked up again. The words processing in your mind as you caught up with what had been said to you. "Huh? Oh yeah, I’m okay. Nothing I’m not used to doing by now. Thank you for asking~”.

Standing up, you lifted the basket with you and placed it on the counter beside you. Dusting them off on your apron before clasping them in front of you, a warm smile helping to greet your customer. “~is there anything you would you like a hand with?".

For the best part of your day, you walked around your shop with the male, talking him through the various properties of the items you stocked and what went well together to create some of the tastiest food in all of Hyrule. Also what could be combined with certain weapons to add some benefits and make his attacks a little deadly to the guardians that still roamed.

With what he needed in hand, the young male paid in full before bidding farewell with a hand on the door as he pushed it open. This was your last chance, you had to find out if what you were thinking were true. You could be wrong but you wouldn’t know unless you tried. Taking in a breath, you placed a hand on the counter in front of you as you leaned forward slightly hoping your voice would carry loud enough for him to hear. "Thank you so much for your patronage! I hope to see you around again Mr~".

The male stopped in his tracks, hand still holding the door open as he thought for a moment. A smile on his face told you he trusted you enough with what he was about to say. Whether or not you believed him would be a different matter. "Link. Please call me Link".

With that, he’d disappeared from your sight as you mulled over his words. The name seemed awfully familiar to you and as far as you were aware, no other Hylian had the same name. Only a few seconds later, realisation dawned on you. A small gasp passing your lips. “Link? As in the appointed knight? It can’t be, can it?”.

You prayed to the Goddess that you were right but you’d have to wait until he came back to find out, and that was sooner than you believed.

[yoditorian]

close to what

frankie morales/reader

as part of @din-damn-djarin‘s birthday song challenge, i picked dancing under red skies by dermot kennedy. it’s a favourite song of mine, i think it’s beautiful, and i felt like it fit this idea i’ve had swirling around for a little bit. this fic is extremely personal to me but it’s also not pretty. i don’t want to romanticise addiction or use it as a plot device, so PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS.

the support group and hospital drop-off box is drawn directly from my own experience. my inbox and ask box are always open if you need to talk, but i am by no means a professional. if you are struggling with themes of this fic a quick internet search should help you find resources local to you 💛

main masterlist

word count: 3.2k // warnings: addiction, PTSD, nightmares (inc. death mentions), recovery and relapse, therapy mentions, hospital mention, references to past substance abuse, implied reader is in addiction recovery, swears probably, ‘they’ as a pronoun in reference to the reader

Your ringtone is obnoxiously loud in the darkness of your bedroom but at least that means you don’t have to worry about where it is, reaching out blindly towards your nightstand where it blares by your head.

“You’re from the group thing, right? He’s mentioned you a few times.”

You don’t recognise the voice on the other end, maybe you should have checked who it was before answering. You pull the phone away from your ear for a second and glance at the time first, 4:03am. No call at four in the morning can involve good news. But it’s the name on the screen that has you wide awake in a split second: Frankie. 

“Is he okay?” You ask, putting whoever it is on speaker while you fumble for the lamp on your bedside table. An old sweater hangs over your bedpost, the logo of a sports team you’ve never heard of cracked and faded beyond recognition, and you tug it over your head in a panic.

“I don’t know, he’s locked himself in the bathroom. I just- he won’t come out. He won’t listen to me, he always listens to me.”

There’s a stifled something and a quiet knock. But no sound from Frankie, just the shaking sigh of the man you’re speaking to. He tells you his name quietly, Santiago, and you remember Frankie mentioning his oldest friend. An image pops up in your mind as you wrestle your jeans on, a fuzzy picture on Frankie’s phone screen, passed to you over the sticky table in a diner, of two men standing knee-deep in a river. Soaked to the bone but grinning ear to ear. Pope’s got him, if no one else has. That’s what he told you.

You stay on the phone with Santiago on the drive over, convincing yourself it's out of concern for him instead of the anxiety churning in your stomach. Frankie still makes no sound in the bathroom, the door stays locked, and you try not to think too hard before you have all the facts.

The Santiago that meets you at Frankie’s front door is a far cry from the man in the photograph. He looks exhausted, on the verge of tears. You’re pretty sure you’re not faring much better. 

“Last door,” He breathes, “Down the hall.”

You follow his instructions, finding the only closed door in the hallway and tapping lightly on the painted wood. Listening for a moment, you can just barely hear a shuddering breath. That’s better than nothing, at least it means he’s alive.

“Frankie?” You try, praying that he’ll relent when he realises it’s you. Santiago stands at the other end of the hall, wringing his hands together, phone trapped between his ear and his shoulder as he whispers frantically into it. He barely catches himself from crashing to his knees when the bathroom door clicks softly. 

“Can I come in?” You have to ask him. All this has to be on his terms, he has to set the boundaries. Anything less than that is dangerous, you won’t risk him hurting himself. 

He says nothing, but the door pulls back just a fraction of an inch and that’s all the confirmation you need. You push the door open enough to slip inside and shut it softly behind you again. 

Frankie’s sitting on the floor, his back against the bathtub and legs stretched out in front of him. A quick look over proves he’s not hurt, and you’d breathe a sigh of relief if it weren’t for the little ziplock bag between his knees. 

He’s very pointedly not looking at it, or you, instead choosing to glare at a spot on the ceiling. You maneuver yourself to sit opposite him, against the wall with your knees tucked up against your chest. 

“Did you take any?” It almost feels wrong to break the silence that’s settled over the two of you.

You wait with bated breath until he gives the slightest shake of his head. He hasn’t touched it. Okay, that’s the worst case scenario eliminated. It’s enough to have your heart rate calm a little, it doesn’t make things better by a long shot, but at least it’s something.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” You ask, picking at a loose thread of your sweatshirt. 

His chin falls to his chest and he pulls his knees up towards him and you’re sure this is it. This is where you lose him. But Frankie takes a deep breath. And then another. And then, he musters the courage to look you in the eyes. He doesn’t see pity, not like he thought he would. You don’t look disappointed or upset or angry, the way he was so sure you would be. You’re just waiting, letting him take the reins, he stores the knowledge away. In case he ever needs to dig you out.

“I don’t know what happened,” God, his throat is scratchy, “I just- I had a bad night. And I called Pope, and then-”

He breaks off with a heart-wrenching crack in his voice and you can’t help but reach out to him. Just a hand, stretched across the space between you. He holds onto you like his life depends on it.

“And I remembered I kept a bag on top of the medicine cabinet. And now you’re here.”

It’s to the point, simple, methodical. Like he’s back in the army and giving a flight report to his CO. You wonder if that’s what he needs right now, maybe spelling things out is better for him than asking what it is you can do. It’s easier, sometimes, when someone just tells you what’s going to happen. 

“Do you want to take it?” You have to know, for his safety if nothing else. You need him to tell you if there’s going to be a problem, if there’s a risk and he needs more than you. He knows you’re not going to walk out the door and give up on him if he says yes. 

It has to be his choice. 

Frankie shakes his head again, a grimace on his face like he feels sick at the thought, and you squeeze his fingers between yours. You need him to understand that he hasn’t failed, that he won’t fail. Tripping up and falling behind are part of the process, and you know he knows that. He’s been going to the support group longer than you have. Recovery is messy and far from simple. He’ll get back to where he was, one bad night isn’t going to ruin him.

Your lower back aches from the hardwood floor but you show no sign of discomfort, waiting until Frankie is completely back in his own head before you make any move to suggest where to go from here.

“There’s a drop-off box at the hospital, you fancy a drive?” You keep his hand in yours, terrified that he’ll slip back if you let go. 

God, he hates this. He hates that he can’t even look at you for more than a few seconds without his resolve threatening to crack. He hates that you’re not angry at him for any of it, not even a little bit. He deserves anger, he deserves your disappointment.

You were never supposed to see him like this, that much he’s sure of. Or, he convinced himself of at least. He’s been going to group and therapy and he’s kept up his tests and he’s stayed far away from anything that might even tempt him a little. And that was before you even showed up. Standing awkwardly in the doorway with a nervous smile and eyes the size of dinner plates. But he’d been by your side in a flash, asking you to give him a hand setting up chairs, and that was it. 

Frankie knows the ins and outs of recovery, you don’t need to tell him that he hasn’t failed. But he can’t help feeling like maybe he never really started in the first place, leaving that one bag out of sight. Life had been busy enough to preoccupy him, between everything else he kind of just forgot about it. He let it gather dust and it should have stayed that way. 

And then, it felt like he was falling out of the sky. And he couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

Nightmares aren’t an unusual thing for him, or for any former soldier, but the memories they stem from seem to warp into something else entirely when he’s too tired to pay attention. Sometimes he’s alone in the helicopter, sometimes he’s with family, sometimes strangers. It was his team tonight. A vivid memory of a time he almost couldn’t save them. 

The crash never happened, he knows that. He’d righted the bird and got his team to safety the way he knew he could. But that knowledge doesn’t stop his mind from wandering, from drowning him in fear when he imagines what might have happened had he not done his job. If they’d crashed in the middle of nowhere. Would any of them have died on impact? Would they have been left stranded, wounded and starving? He’s woken up in a cold sweat too many times, each ending more horrific than the last.

Tonight had been the last straw. And Frankie had found himself in his bathroom, patting along the top of the medicine cabinet, before he could even realise what he was doing.

He’d called Santiago, still blinking back images of his best friend’s bloody and lifeless face, just to hear his voice initially. But he hadn’t managed to explain anything past the sob lodged in his throat, and he’d heard the jingle of car keys before he could tell Pope he didn’t need to drive all the way across town at two o’clock in the morning. 

At least nobody had called Will, because that would have meant that Benny would have shown up too. Maybe even Tom would have dragged his ass out of bed. Frankie didn’t need to disappoint all his friends in one night. 

Santiago is bound by friendship, best and oldest, he’d never say anything if Frankie didn’t want him to. And you, you’re bound by- well, you’re not really bound by anything. You could get up off of his bathroom floor right now and never look back. Get to your feet, and walk right out of his life. But you won’t. 

He knows you won’t because you’re still holding tight to his hand, even though the angle and distance has you leaned forward awkwardly. You’re still looking at him like you believe in him, even though he almost threw everything he’s worked so hard for down the drain. You’re here, despite everything. Despite only knowing him for a couple of months, despite getting a call from a stranger at four in the morning, despite everything he’s done to be undeserving of anything good or kind in his life.

You’re here, still, looking at him like he can do anything. That’s something. That’s enough for him.

“I don’t even want to look at it.” Frankie croaks, and keeps his eyes steady on yours even as his voice wavers. To anybody else, he might sound unsure. But you hear that steely determination underneath it all, the same one that’s convinced you to keep moving any time you’ve faltered. 

“That’s okay, I can take it.” You waste no time in snapping the little bag up in your free hand, and stuffing it in your back pocket. A phone rings in the hall, hurriedly answered, and you suddenly remember the other man waiting outside.

Frankie’s still looking at you, dark eyes unsteady and unsure, and you squeeze his fingers to ground him. He comes back to you, slowly, and takes a few shaky breaths. 

“Do you want him to come with, or?” You leave the question open. His choice, entirely, the way everything tonight has been. He lost control for a moment and fought, tooth and nail, to get it back. You can’t take any decision about this away from him.

He shakes his head, loosens his grip on your hand, and asks you to give him a minute. It hurts, leaving him alone on his bathroom floor. But he’ll come out, you’re certain of that much.

“Is-” Santiago cuts himself off when you emerge and pull the door just shy of closed behind you, like he’s afraid to even ask the question. Let alone know the answer.

“He’ll be okay. We’re taking his last stash to the drop-off box.”

Santiago’s whole body sags in relief, and you can’t help but lean against the wall for support yourself. The little ziplock bag in your back pocket is a weight you don’t think you’ll ever stop carrying, even after it’s disposed of, but you’re more than happy to bear it when Frankie steps out of the bathroom and Santiago tugs him into a hug that almost breaks his ribs.

It’s easy to forget, when you get that low, that you have people. But they’ll always show up when you call. 

You leave them to their moment and shuffle back through to the main room, your car keys and phone left on the kitchen counter where you’d abandoned them. You’re not sure why you bother checking your messages, maybe it’s to keep your hands busy, maybe it’s so you don’t feel like you’re intruding on Frankie and his oldest friend. They speak in hushed tones as your thumbnail scratches back and forth across a crack in your screen protector. 

“I’m sorry.” Frankie’s voice is rough, muffled into the other man’s shoulder. 

“Don’t be,” Pope squeezes him just a little tighter before pulling back far enough to look him in the eye, “Be sorry you didn’t tell me they were so pretty.” 

It should feel odd, the way that he speaks as though the last few hours haven’t even happened. How a simple, harmless joke is all it takes for Frankie’s heart to settle. Pope doesn’t hate him, couldn’t hate him, 

“Didn’t I?” A shy, shaky smile settles on his features as Santiago stifles a yawn, “Crash here tonight, you’re not driving anywhere on no sleep.” 

Ever the caretaker, even in the wake of his worst moments. It’s a hard habit to break after all they’ve been through. Something tells Frankie, even as Pope relents and walks through to the living room to find a blanket and settle on the couch, he’ll still be awake once they get back. 

You’re quiet when he follows you out of his apartment, quiet as your footsteps echo in the stairwell, quiet when you cross the street to your car and unlock the doors. Part of him still worries that you’re disappointed, that you’re angry or upset or that he’s fucked up so bad that you’ve already decided to drop him home without a word and he’ll never hear from you again.

But another look at you out of the corner of his eye as you plug your seatbelt in disproves any other theory he might have. You’re quiet because you know that he doesn’t need you to talk, that he just needs you right here beside him so he can be brave enough to take the next step.

The radio is playing some acoustic, folky sounding song that neither of you have heard before, and it’s comforting to just sit and absorb the peace of the night as you drive. You’re conscious of Frankie’s eyes on you, although you’re sure he’s trying to be subtle about his staring. His seemingly unwavering attention does little to quiet the voice you’ve been hearing in the back of your mind for the last few weeks.

He still can’t quite believe it. That you’d wake up, in the middle of the night, and haul ass across town for him. For him. Something about it somehow makes ribcage feel like it's about to burst and cave in at the same time. But now is definitely not the time to be thinking about the tiny baby crush he may or may not be developing on you. 

You don’t miss the way he tenses when you pull into the hospital parking lot, muscles locked so tight that a stiff breeze could shatter him into pieces. He turns to you when you say his name softly, and his eyes are wide with a terror so familiar that your heart breaks in your chest.

“I can’t do it.” He chokes the admission out like it’s poison, and in just four words you can hear every ounce of hatred he has for himself in this moment. He thinks he’s weak, because he can’t even throw a little plastic bag into a hatch, because he can’t even bring himself to move. 

“That’s okay. Did you want me to?” You offer, it’s plain as day on his face that he doesn’t know how to ask you.

You’re grateful for the unusual warmth of the night when you step out of the car, comfortable enough not to need a jacket at this time of day. The sky is just starting to turn that odd shade of blue-grey, the barest hints of dawn on the horizon. Another day, just like tomorrow will be. Sometimes, the next day is all you can hope for. 

The metal handle is cold when you wrap your hand around it and haul the creaky hatch open, you fish the bag out of your pocket and don’t even pay it a second glance as you set it on the little shelf and let the door snap shut. Gone. But you can still feel it eating away at you, you can still see how it weighs on Frankie’s shoulders when you shuffle across the concrete and climb back into the car.

He says he’s not hungry when you ask, and you don’t push it. He’ll eat when he’s ready. He’ll live when he’s ready. You don’t mind, you’ve got a better idea anyway.

“Where are we going?” He asks when he realises you’re heading completely the opposite way from his apartment building. You shoot him a smile, turning your eyes back to the road before you can read too far into the look in his eyes. 

The beach is dead, just like you thought it would be, and you’re grateful as you shut off the engine. 

“We are gonna throw rocks in the sea.” You say and part of him wonders if you’ve always known exactly what he needs. 

If someone had told Frankie, twenty four hours ago, that he’d be skipping pebbles on the sea with you at sunrise, he would have laughed. But here he is, flecks of the rising sun on the sea reflecting on your face, and you’re smiling at him like that as a breeze ruffles his hair. Maybe this is all he needs to find the courage to stare right down the barrel of his faults. He doesn’t know how you do it, maybe you can do it together.

You reach over and take his hand when you spot the lone tear tracking its way down his cheek. 

“You’ll be alright. I promise.” You smile just as the sun finally breaks fully over the horizon, sky streaked with orange and pink. 

“Yeah, I know.” Frankie can’t help but smile back.

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@brothersdrxke @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean

[rebelhan]

linger

pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

word count: 2k+

warnings: fluff

a/n: just frolicking in a field with a touch starved mandalorian...

masterlist

ao3 link | gif credit: @rexahsoka​

You press a kiss to his cheek, or where his cheek would be. At the curve of his helmet. The action is so quick that he barely registers it before he sees you bounding down the Crest’s ramp and into the grassy field beyond. It was so fast that he finds himself racking his brain to remember if you had done it before, if it was a normal habit and he had somehow forgotten it.

If he concentrates, he thinks he can feel your lips against his cheek. And if he concentrates a little harder, he can feel them at the stubble of his jaw, and ghosting down the side of his neck, lingering at the point where his heartbeat can be felt at the surface of his skin. Then you turn around and face him, surrounded by a halo as the setting sun lights your silhouette. The grass swallows your figure up to your hips. “You gonna stand there all day?” your voice calls to him. It’s enough to break him out of his trance.

He takes a second to compose himself and in a moment he’s back to the version of himself he usually offers to you. Silent and stoic as he follows your footsteps down the ramp. When you see that he’s moving towards you, you turn your back to him again and wander further away from the ship. With the child fast asleep inside the Razor Crest, the Mandalorian taps a button on his vambrace to seal the ramp of the ship before tracing your steps through the field.

He can’t pinpoint where exactly you intend to go, your path crisscrosses through the field aimlessly, and he dutifully follows, unable to do much else while he’s fixated on the way your hand trails over the taller stalks of grass. 

Four standard days ago, you had told him the Crest needed some repairs. “I’ll take us to the closest inhabited planet,” he had said.

“I have everything we need,” you shook your head. “We can go somewhere else. Maybe somewhere that isn’t populated. Where we can stay an extra day.” That last part was posed more like a question. He had turned his head towards you silently. In the dark cockpit, you could see the stars reflecting off the metal of his helmet.

You knew that he would prefer an uninhabited region. His armor made him a spectacle every time you stopped for food or refueling, and that made protecting the child from bounty hunters quite difficult. Word of a Mandalorian sighting always spread fast.

“An extra day?” he had asked.

You shrugged noncommittally. “I want to stretch out. We’ve been flying for so long.”

“There’s plenty of room in the cargo hold for stretching.” You would’ve thought the remark was an attempt at a joke if not for his perfectly serious tone and the nature of every conversation you had ever had with the man.

“That’s not what I mean.” You huffed out a breath in frustration.

“What do you mean then?” The question was cautious. Like every conversation was. It always felt like he was scared to learn too much about you. And he always offered even less about himself.

You mulled it over for a moment before settling on how to describe it to him.

“I want to see a sun. Not from the Razor Crest where the light is blinding and I have to hide out in the cargo hold until we pass it because I don’t have a helmet with polarizing filters. I want to see a moon peeking out from between clouds. I want to feel a breeze that isn’t just the Crest’s circulation system. Just for a day.”

You must have sounded really desperate because he turned back to the console and punched some buttons before responding to you.

“Okay.”

The smile on your face didn’t disappear from that moment until you stepped into the grass on a planet whose name you had already forgotten.

Your shadow grows longer and longer as you meander, the sky darkening with each passing moment. Before he’s realized it, you’ve led him back to where the Razor Crest stands. He’s far away enough that when you sit down, the tall grass obscures you completely from his vision. For a moment, he’s alone on this planet with nothing but his ship. The thought sends a bolt of panic through his heart, though he can’t understand why it sparks such terror. Long before either you or the child were with him, he traveled alone. The feeling should be familiar, not terrifying. But his heart is still eased when he comes to stand next to where you lay in the field, grass stalks flattened below your back and softening the ground.

You look giddy, he thinks, like the face you get when you finish a particularly complicated repair, but somehow more. You gesture to the grass beside you in invitation. “Join me?”

He doesn’t have to accept. He could say he needed to check on the child, or that he should eat inside the ship now while you spent time outside. You’re just the mechanic he hired. There’s no need for him to spend time with you outside what is necessary. But he knows that hasn’t been true since he started noticing the faces you make during repairs and it’s certainly not true after he’s imagined your lips on his neck.

The Mandalorian lays down beside you as gracefully as he can whilst covered in armor and you turn your head to face him. Your clothed shoulder rests against his pauldron. There is still enough light that he can make out your features but the details are disappearing as the sun falls lower and lower below the horizon. “I’ll get started on repairs at first light tomorrow. They shouldn’t take more than a day of work,” you tell him.

“You don’t have to,” he says before he can stop himself. “We can stay here a few days longer.”

Your smile disappears and reappears as something softer. It’s timid. Surprised, even. It’s an acknowledgement that he must be fighting his instincts to keep moving; after all, staying in one place for more than a day would be out of the norm for the pattern he had established while protecting the child. You turn your head back to the sky and he follows suit. Three moons form an arc across the sea of stars. Thin clouds float slowly across your vision.

You stargaze in silence. It’s peaceful. A different kind of silence from looking at the same objects from the cockpit of the Razor Crest. That silence was always anxious and frantic. Even hours of floating through space was not enough time to enjoy the stars when you were on the run, constantly thinking about the next seven steps, always planning for the worst. But for once, the Mandalorian finds that he’s losing track of time, and he’s not worried about it in the slightest.

Before he’s realized, so much time has passed that the largest moon is at its apex, bathing the field in a silver glow from directly above where you lay. There’s a question on the tip of his tongue, though he doesn’t know how to ask it. There’s a chance you’re asleep after hours of silence under the night sky, but he can’t bring himself to turn his head and check if you are awake. If your eyes meet his through the slit of his helmet, he knows the question will die in his mouth.

“Earlier today,” he begins, then stops. His voice rings clear in the empty field. He waits for a sign that you heard him.

“What about earlier today?” Your voice is quieter than usual and slow with lethargy. It has his heart beating harder beneath his armor and him even more unsure of the words he’s about to say.

The question is jumbled on his lips and he’s calculating the best approach, the most careful phrasing. He’s always cautious, but you could never figure out if it was because he was worried he’d scare you away like a skittish deer or if giving up too much of himself or learning too much of you might somehow trap him.

“Why did you kiss me?” He asks the question in a rush of words. Then he holds his breath. He thinks he’d die if he looks at you.

If he did look at you, he’d find you with a gentle smile on your face, eyes closed as you try to fight sleep. Maybe if you were a little more awake and a little less lighthearted from the afternoon of frolicking, you might find it in you to be embarrassed at the action, or at the very least acknowledge that it was unusual. Instead, you’re shamelessly honest as drowsiness strips away any inhibitions you might have had during the daylight hours.

“I was happy,” you tell him. It’s perhaps too simple an answer, but your mind is too far gone to formulate a better response.

You feel him shift beside you. His head is turned to you now, mapping the features of your face he can see in the moonlight. He notes that your eyes are closed.

“Are you still happy now?” he asks. You barely register the question as you linger at the edge of slumber. It’s a whisper at the corner of your mind. Words escape you in the moment so you do the only thing your muddled brain can think to do.

You turn your head until you can feel the metal of his pauldron cold on your cheek. Another small movement brings your lips to the piece of armor and you place a kiss there. It’s so quick and so gentle that he would have missed it had he not been staring at you.

You still completely and he would have thought you had fully fallen asleep, but your quiet, uneven breaths are picked up by the sensors in his helmet.

Then suddenly, your hand is feeling along his vambrace, searching for something. You seem to find it when you grip his fingers and pull his hand towards your face. Sleep has destroyed all command of your impulses and he feels you tracing the material of his glove near his wrist.

Your fingertips brush his bare skin and you stop your movements. His heart stutters. Your skin touches his at the gap between his glove and his vambrace. A tiny patch of skin he���d always been a little bit careless about. The sensation is wholly unfamiliar, but it lights a fire in him that screams for more contact. He doesn’t want you to move. His nerves are buzzing with the new feeling and he swears that when he checks next morning, your fingerprint will be burned into his wrist.

Then the feeling is gone and immediately replaced with something he’d only come to crave earlier that day. Your lips touch his wrist and Maker, he’s gone. He’s ascended. The moonlight feels impossibly brighter. His helmet is suddenly suffocating and his chestplate too tight. The breeze rustling the grass around your bodies is delightfully cool, but every inch of his skin prickles with heat.

You drop your hand, still clasping his, to your stomach. “I’m always happy when I’m with you.” And with that, you promptly fall asleep, seemingly unaware of the turmoil you had just caused in the man lying beside you. 

Long after your breathing has slowed, he continues to watch the rise and fall of your chest in silence. He sees only what the moonlight offers to him, refusing to activate his helmet’s night vision. He can barely make out the outline of your hand tangled with his, resting on your stomach. Though the skin at his wrist is covered now, his glove having shifted back over it, he can still feel the ghost of your lips brushing over it. When he closes his eyes, the sensation grows stronger. If he concentrates, he can imagine what your fingers interlocked with his would feel like without the leather that separates them. It feels like a secret, hidden from even the night sky by layers of leather and beskar. But it’s a secret he’ll share with you in the morning.

[dameronology]

an insight into forever {poe dameron x reader}

summary: imagine having a love so deep that is completely unwavering - even in the face of broken promises, unspoken words and unfinished conversations 

warnings: ANGST, so much angst, swearing, mentions of death 

enjoy :) this hurt to write

- jazz

Poe Dameron had a tendency to not think before he spoke. 

It was bad at the best of times - and it only got worst when he was around.

Worst, because you were the love of his life. Worst, because you were the most beautiful human being he’d ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on. Worst, because he was completely and utterly obsessed you and worst, he’d let you go. He’d done a lot of stupid things - really, really stupid things - but allowing your relationship to reach a better end took the cake. Heck, it baked the cake and threw it into the fucking ceiling fan. Left splatters all up the wall and on the carpet and over his heart. Stained his heart with marks of your relationship, destined to keep him trapped in your unwitting grips until he met his untimely demise, probably in cockpit of an X-Wing (refer back to the really, really stupid things.) 

He’d been through a couple break ups but this felt like the be-all-and-end-all. You’d given back his jumpers and jackets and belongings that he’d left in your room, but you still held onto a few tiny pieces of Poe’s heart. It was like a subtle, permanent grip on his brain; he occasionally thought about you but was always painfully aware that he’d let go of the best person in the galaxy. You were a once in the lifetime thing, like winning the lottery or finding gold at the bottom of a rainbow. Both of those were things he’d willingly forfeit in a second if it meant having you back.

So, you probably get the point: Poe was sad, your break-up was bad and you were a little mad (that was a rhyme Finn came up with to summarise the events of your relationship’s bitter demise to anyone who asked). It had been a few months, and you were both finally at the point where you could hang out as a group of five friends with it only being slightly awkward. It had only taken a minor intervention from Rey, Finn and Rose to get you to acknowledge one another again, but it was the first step to being friends. That’s what you’d been before, and if you could just set aside your differences, perhaps you could be there again.

The five of you always made a point to hang out together on a Friday. Your jobs in the Resistance took up every waking second during the week, so it was strictly marked in your calendar as friend time and you would all be there without fail. Usually, you found yourselves in a small cantina in one of the little villages a few miles out from the base on Ajan Kloss. It was the one day a week that things actually felt a little normal; just five young friends and some alcohol, laughing together and having a good time. 

There was always something lingering in the air between you and Poe -- stolen glances and sneaky looks, and an atmosphere that paid ode to a million unsaid things and a plethora of unfinished conversations. Arguments that never reached conclusions and hearts that never quite healed; yours nor his. To force it all into a box and slam it shut and to process that hurt with proper closure was holding you back. Clinging onto your shoulders with a mighty grip that prevented you from truly moving on. 

‘So, that cute mechanic asked about you today.’ Rose’s voice pulled your attention away from the pilot and back to the painfully Poe-free reality in which you found yourself.

‘He did?’ You blinked in surprise. 

‘You did go on a date last week without calling him back.’ She reminded you. ‘He wasn’t bothered. I think he got it - everyone gets a bit busy in this line of work, right?’

Yeah, because that’s why you hadn’t replied to his 27 text messages. 

‘I didn’t realise you were even dating again.’ Finn observed, eyes briefly flickering to his best friend. ‘I mean, not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just-’

‘- Finn.’ You cut him off. ‘It’s fine. Poe and I are friends now, right?’

Poe simply looked up, dark eyes shifting from his half-finished drink. He didn’t say anything for a moment, instead giving you a look that emanated the vibe he’d rather swim naked through the seas of Hoth than answer than question. It wasn’t until Finn cleared his throat that he pulled away from your gaze and forced the fakest smile smile known to man, and every other creature that roamed the galaxy. 

‘Right.’ Did he normally speak through gritted teeth?

‘So, d’you like this guy?’ Rey asked. ‘He seemed nice when I met him in the air hangar.’

‘He’s...’ you paused. Annoying, whiny, argumentative, has a voice like a foghorn and, most importantly, isn’t Poe Dameron. ‘Fine.’ 

‘So are you gonna call him back?’ Rose pushed. ‘Because the minute you bring someone new to the table, I can set up ol’ flyboy here with the cute girl from comms who’s been eyeing him up.’

‘I’m okay, but thanks.’ Poe’s fake smile barely faltered, eyes landing on you again. ‘I don’t need a relationship when I have such fulfilling friendships.’

You almost choked on your drink at that. The irony was laying in the fact that you used to love Poe’s little sarcastic jabs and backhanded comments - at least when you’d been sat beside him, laughing into his shoulder and holding his hand under the table. Now, you were in the line of fire and maker knew you’d left your bulletproof vest at home. 

Needless to say, his forced smile fell when you gave him a kick on the shin under the table. 

‘So..you and Cute Mechanic. Not a thing?’ Finn asked.

‘Definitely not a thing.’ You confirmed. 

‘You don’t have to say it on my behalf.’ Poe said. ‘If you like the guy, you can talk about it in front of me.’

‘Don’t flatter yourself.’ You snorted. ‘It’s nothing to do with you. I genuinely don’t like him.’

That was half true: you didn’t like the guy, but it was everything to do with Poe. You could have met the holy grail of men and they still wouldn’t have had a chance in hell. That’s not to say that Poe wasn’t the holy grail, but he was flawed. So you were you. It was those flaws that had lead to your downfall in the first place. Fundamentally, everyone had to have them -- it just so happened that the best parts of you clicked so well and the flawed parts of you clashed so badly. The good times and bad parts were so different that they were like two different ends of a magnet; complete opposites and inevitably polarising. 

Rose, sensing the tension between the two of you, suddenly pushed to change the subject. ‘So, did anyone see the General-’

‘- I’m gonna go now.’ You stood up. ‘I’m really tired and I have an early meeting tomorrow.’

All four of them knew that was bullshit. There were no meetings on a Saturday, but they kept schtum. There was a chorus of okay, get some rest! and see you tomorrow, but Poe didn’t say anything. He just kept you in his gaze, watching as you gathered up your things and headed for the door.

The air outside was cold; Ajan Kloss had hot, hot summers and freezing winters. You fumbled to pull your jacket over your shoulders as you stalked away, boots thundering against the muddy path as you headed back for the base. It was only a fifteen minute walk, and it was safe for the most part. Everyone on the planet was either a native villager - all of whom were humble and welcoming - or a fellow Rebel. 

You didn’t bother to turn around when you head foot-steps behind you. It was a Friday night, which meant that there was going to be people around. 

It was only when somebody grabbed you by the shoulder that you suddenly spun on your heel -- luckily, Poe Dameron managed to catch your fist in time to save it hitting his face. It wasn’t personal. It was natural to get a little trigger happy with the ol’ mitt when a stranger grabbed you in the dark. Only, it wasn’t a stranger. It was your ex-boyfriend, looking as handsome as ever with disheveled hair and a five o’ clock shadow. 

‘For fuck’s sake!’ You snapped. ‘What the hell are you doing?!’

‘I came to check you were okay!’ Poe released his grip on your wrist, letting it flop to your side. ‘You only ever stalk out like that when you’re mad.’

‘No thanks to you.’ You shot back. ‘I’m fine. Just go back to the bar.’

‘Short sentences meaning you’re fuming-’

‘- I’m about to be well past that point.’ You cut him off. ‘Go back. Don’t worry about me.’

‘I wanted to talk to you anyways.’ He admitted. 

‘About what?’

‘About what you said back there.’ Poe replied. ‘I genuinely meant what I said. I don’t want you to not try things with that new guy because of me.’

‘Poe, I-’

‘- I mean it.’ He continued. ‘I just wanted you to know.’ 

‘Wanted me to know what?’ You murmured. ‘That I need your permission to date other people?’

‘No, that’s not what I’m saying.’ He frowned at your words. ‘I just...I mean that I wanted you to know that it’s okay if you don’t love me anymore.’

Well if that wasn’t like a knife through the fucking chest, you didn’t know what was. 

What hurt more? The fact he was officially letting you go, or the fact he thought you were even capable of falling out of love with him? Because that, you weren’t. Poe might have been the most stubborn, most annoying, most chaotic person you knew but he was everything. Everything you wanted and everything you needed - but everything you couldn’t have. You were two parts of a screwed up whole. Bad apart, but probably even worse off together. It was pretty fucked up of whoever was in the sky that they’d put you both in the galaxy at the same time. Existing without him was less painful than existing in a world where you couldn’t be together. 

‘Poe...’ your voice was small, a tiny crack appearing in the middle of his name. 

‘Me being an ass is just a defence mechanism.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘And I’m sorry.’

‘I haven’t fallen out of love with you.’ You ignored his apology. 

‘Like I said, it’s okay.’ He shook his head. ‘I can see it in your eyes.’

‘If you think you can see it in my eyes then you clearly don’t know me at all.’ Your voice shook, but you managed to throw the accusation at him. An admirable trait, surely. 

‘I don’t think I do.’ He admitted. ‘Not anymore.’

--

The next morning, Poe was sat in the canteen. He didn’t normally rise so early on weekends, but thanks to your discussion the night before, sleep had alluded him. 

Instead, he was staring aimlessly at his whole bowl of oatmeal. He’d been stirring it around for the better of an hour, thinking of nothing but you. He thought it was sweet of you to have rejected his claims of love (or lack thereof) but nothing you could have said would have made him believe you. It all stemmed down to the fact that he’d spent so long convincing himself of it. If he truly believed - or at least thought he believed - that you didn’t love him anymore, then he wouldn’t fool himself to having false hope, He was more likely to force himself to pull his head out his backside and move on. It was less painful that way, to rip it off like a bandaid. There was no hope if there was no love. Both of those things were and few these days. 

Poe jumped out of his exhausted, self-inflicted trance when something slammed on the table in front of him. He practically jumped out of his seat, oatmeal flying everywhere as he let out a yelp. He was about to open his mouth and yell, to cry in vain of his airborne breakfast, but he immediately stopped when he saw you staring down at him. 

‘Do you really think I stopped loving you?’

He huffed. ‘I’m not having this conversation with you.’

‘Yes, you are.’ You snapped. ‘Answer the question, Poe. Do you really think I stopped loving you?’

‘What’s this?’ He asked, eyes falling onto the piece of paper resting atop the table. 

‘Do you remember a few weeks ago when I went on that mission to Nevarro?’ You asked. 

‘Uh, yeah.’ Poe scratched the back of his hair. ‘That dangerous one.’

‘Yeah, the dangerous one.’ You placed one leg over the bench seat opposite him, dropping down onto the table with a thud. ‘I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it back.’

‘None of us were.’

‘This is a letter I asked Leia to give to you in case I died.’ You slid it across to him. ‘You should give it read.’

‘What are you doing?’ Poe sighed. 

‘I’m proving a point, Dameron.’

‘Yeah, you’ve always been good at that.’ He snatched the letter from you, pulling it open. ‘You just gonna stare at me the whole time that I read this?’

‘Yup.’

Another sigh escaped his lips as he tore it open, eyes briefly scanning the page for a moment. His brow furrowed - was it possible to feel like words were punching you in the throat?

Poe, 

If you’re reading this, it’s either because I’m dead or M.I.A, or you’ve been snooping through Leia’s desk draw in search of that damned Coruscanti candy again. If it’s the latter, put this fucking down. Because it means I’m alive, and I’ll find you and throttle you. If it’s because of the first one, then keep reading, because it means I’m gone. Turns out that I only act immortal. 

I should preface this by saying that I’m sorry. Sorry that we didn’t get to be together again and sorry that I didn’t try harder to make it happen. Please know that it’s what I wanted more than anything. You probably already know it, but I never stopped loving you. I died loving you (hopefully in a bad-ass way) and because death is, rather unfortunately, a permanent state, it means that I’ll love you forever. 

I’m only being bold with my words because I know you won’t be around for me to be embarrassed by how soft you’ve made me, but you’re my best friend. My other half and my whole world. You made me feel safe and loved and by all intents and purposes, you are my home. Whoever ends up getting to marry you - because you will find someone; the galaxy is a large place and there is another person out there who will find your annoying ass to be rather charming - is the luckiest fucking person ever. I’m just sorry that I can’t be there to watch it happen, and even more sorry that it couldn’t be me. 

Love you always, flyboy 

- (name) 

p.s I have a cactus on my window ledge. Can you water it for me? Thanks. 

Poe’s eyes were bleary with tears by the end - at the thought of you dying, at the thought of him being the last person you thought of before you went on that mission. The mission that he’d sent you on, as your Commander. He’d caused you grief without even trying. 

‘That mission was two weeks ago.’ He looked up at you, not even bothering to hide the water in his eyes. ‘You wrote this two weeks ago.’

‘Yeah.’ You quietly murmured. Giving a small nod, you stood up from the table and wiped your own eyes. ‘You should hold onto that.’

‘W-where are you going?’

‘I have work to do.’ You stood up. ‘Goodbye, Poe.’

'For now or forever?’ He tried to force a joke, but it didn’t really work in his favour.

‘You had a point in what you said.’ You replied. ‘We should both move on.’ 

His eyes fell back down to the letter, where a few scrawled words jumped out at him: I’ll love you forever.

Until now, he hadn’t considered the fact that forever was still forever, even when you spent it apart. 

tags: @interwebseriesfan24​ @spider-starry​ @itspdameronthings​ @lifeandloveandhappiness​ 

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello Steph 😊 Do you have any BAMF Molly or just some good fics that feature Molly? I need some Molly love at the moment because I just read a fic where she "turns to the drak side" so to speak, and my heart 😭😭😭

Hey Nonny!

Ah I did a few comm. recs lists recently with Molly, but here are what I can offer you from memory, LOL. PLEASE add your fave Molly fics, guys! PLEASE NOTE these are fics I’ve read, and please check the sub-headings for a TONNE of stuff I haven’t read!! Big title so I can find it later LOL.

MOLLY PLAYS A ROLE

See also:

COMM RECS: Coming Out To Molly

COMM RECS: Molly with Women

COMM RECS: Molly and Greg Push John and Sherlock Together

COMM RECS: Molly as a Villain

Santa Knows by Itsallfine (T, 1,719 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas Party, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, Matchmaking, POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock) – Sherlock and John both get exactly what they want from the Yard's secret Santa exchange. Pure holiday fluff.

What John Doesn't Know (Won't Hurt Him) by blueink3 (NR [T], 4,392 w., 1 Ch, || S3 Fix It, Pining Sherlock, Snippets of Life, Hurt/Comfort, Scars, Fluff and Angst, Five and One, Hopeful Ending, POV Sherlock) – Five people who see Sherlock's scars before John Watson. But Sherlock's secrets were never something he could keep from his blogger for long.

Thirty Three Hours Without John Watson by Bookaholic, mybrotherharry (M, 6,232 w. || First Kiss / Time, Pining Idiots, BG Mystrade, Crackish) – Sherlock can SO TOTALLY survive without John Watson. It should be a piece of cake. AKA the time when Sherlock braved grocery store lines for milk, purchased and gave away a box of tampons and figured out what the X-Factor is. Greg and Mycroft didn’t sign up for this shit. Next time, they are going to the Bahamas.

Wonderful, Etcetera. by VictoryCandescence (T, 16,955 w., 3 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Alternate Timelines, Brotherhood, Homophobia, Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Drug Use, Friendship, Different TRF, Sherlock’s Past, Victor Trevor is Past Boyfriend, Depression, Hallucination, Love Confessions, Christmas, First Kiss) – Sherlock thinks everyone would be better off if he had never existed, including and especially himself. When he finds himself in a world in which his wish has been granted, he begins to think perhaps even he could be wrong – but it takes an unlikely chaperone to make him not only observe, but understand.

Insanity in the Middle by DotyTakeThisDown (E, 28,010 w., 8 Ch. || Equestrian Sports AU || Alternate First Meeting, POV John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Clueless Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Passionate Kisses, Hand Holding, Caught Making Out, Bed Sharing, Spooning, Blow Job) – John is a world-class eventing rider with a gold medal and several four-star wins to his credit, but he's never won at Rolex. Sherlock is an up-and-coming rider taking the sport by storm.

Love or What You Will by miss_frankenstein (T, 31,987 w., 11 Ch. || College/Uni AU || Professor John, Ph.D Student Sherlock, Pining John, Poetry, Falling in Love / Slow Burn, Light Angst, Happy Ending) – John is an English professor who specializes in War and Post-War Literature and Sherlock is the brilliant yet impossible Ph.D. student assigned to be his TA because no one in the Chemistry Department is willing to put up with him. And - somewhere between Waugh and Plath, e-mails and takeaway, novels and villanelles - they fall in love.

The Wrong Wagon by DancingGrimm (E, 35,663 w., 20 Ch. || Alternating POV, Molly/  John [Molly pines for John], Public Sex, Casual Sex, Obliviousness, BAMF!John, Awkwardness, Angst & Humour, First Time, Virgin Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock) – Molly sees John in a new light and realises that she may have hitched her horse to the wrong wagon...or something like that. John pines for Sherlock and worries what he will think if he ever finds out. And Sherlock doesn't know what Molly's up to...but he knows he doesn't like it.

The Pieces That Fall to Earth by Itsallfine (M, 49,513 w., 84 Ch. || S4 Fix-It, Epistolary, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Parentlock, Past Abuse, Coming Out, Internalized Homophobia, Questioning Sexuality, Mental Health Issues / Therapy, Angst, Happy Ending) – John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly, seek healing, and find the truths that matter most. An epistolary post-s4 fix-it fic. Now complete. (This fic is rated T except for one very clearly marked and easily skippable chapter, which is rated M.) Part 1 of The Pieces that Fall to Earth

floating through a dark blue sky by Lediona (M, 58,966 w., 15 Ch. || Notting Hill AU || POV John, Celebrity Sherlock, First Date / Time / Kiss, Past Drug Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending) – Of course, I’d seen his films and always thought he was, well, brilliant -- but, you know, a million miles from the world I live in. Or, when John is the owner of a travel book shop and the famous Sherlock Holmes stops in one day.

This Thing All Things Devours by cypress_tree (E, 63,844 w., 15 Ch. || In Time AU || Science Fiction, Dystopian Universe, First Meetings, Action / Adventure, Romance) – In 2169, time is money—literally. Humans are genetically engineered to stop aging at 25, when the numbers on their arm start counting down from one year. When that time is up, they die. The only way to get more time is to earn it, borrow it, or steal it.John Watson lives day-to-day in the crowded slums of Zone 13. He never imagined living any differently—until he meets the practically-immortal Sherlock, and helps him on a case to track a local time-thief...

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Stars Move Still by BeautifulFiction (E, 96,022 w., 5 Ch. || Magical Realism, Demons, Slash to Pre-Slash, AU, Happy Ending, Souls) – "What could I want so desperately that would make me sell my soul? What could possibly compel me to surrender the part of myself that makes me who I am: the source of my magic, my self-control, everything?”

Definitions by siennna (T, 101,528 w., 12 of ? Ch. || Dev. Rel., Pining, Fluff and Romance, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Fluff, Cuddles, Girl’s Night, Texting, Virgin Sherlock, Drunk Sherlock, Background Mollstrade, Hair Petting, Laying on Lap) – Sherlock’s journey in defining his flat mate and stumbling through the muddled world of emotion. {{This feels complete; the chapter count is listed as ? but I feel like it is done}}

between each beat are words unsaid by darcylindbergh, hudders-and-hiddles (T, 107,998 w., 215 Ch. || Epistolary, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending) – On their wedding night, John and Sherlock gift each other with the things they each said when the other could not hear, the things they each put down where the other could not see: a collection of writings that illustrate the way their love for one another has grown over the years. Part 1 of between each beat

The Burning Heart by May_Shepard (M, 119,150 w., 21 Ch. || Canon Divergence, Post-TRF, John’s Sexuality, S3 Rewrite, Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV John Watson, John’s Gay) – When Sherlock dies, John Watson feels like his life is over too. He’s completely shut down, until Mark Morstan, a new nurse at John’s medical clinic, catches his attention, and helps him uncover the long buried truth of his attraction to men. Although he’s certain he’ll never get over Sherlock, John plans to move on, and build a new life with Mark, unaware that Sherlock is not quite as dead as he appears, and that Mark is hiding secrets of his own.

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

The Horse and his Doctor by khorazir (T, 129,003 w., 13 Ch. || Horse / Vet AU || Magical Realism, Horses, Vet John, Horse Sherlock, Implied Alcoholism) – Invalided after a run in with a poacher in Siberia, veterinary surgeon John Watson finds it difficult to acclimatise to the mundanity of London life. Things change when a friend invites him along to a local animal shelter and he meets their latest acquisition, a trouble-making Frisian with the strangest eyes and even stranger quirks John has ever encountered in a horse.

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

Mise en Place by azriona (M, 161,004 w., 28 Ch. || Restaurant (Kitchen Nightmares) AU || Sherlock is Gordon Ramsay / Celebrity Sherlock, Restauranteur John, Harry Plays Prominent Role, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, Cranky Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn) – John Watson had no intentions of taking over the family business, but when he returns from Afghanistan, battered and bruised, and discovers that his sister Harry has run their restaurant into the ground, he doesn't have much choice. There's only one thing that can save the Empire from closing for good – the celebrity star of the BBC series Restaurant Reconstructed, Chef Sherlock Holmes. Part 1 of Mise en Place

[intheticklecloset]

Get Some Sleep (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

@ghostlyshylee​ It took me a while to figure out how to make this happen, but I think I landed on a pretty solid idea! All Might’s quite the motivator when he needs to be. Hope you enjoy! :D

~

“Young Midoriya,” All Might said, reaching out a hand to stop Deku in his tracks. They’d happened upon each other while walking through the halls and had greeted each other normally, but something seemed off about the boy today. Now that he was stopped and getting a better look at him, he realized what it was. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

There were dark circles under Deku’s eyes, and he seemed a little more sluggish than usual.

“Yes!” Deku replied. He was just as enthusiastic and sincere as ever; nothing in his tone of voice suggested he was lying.

All Might frowned, unconvinced, but nodded. “Okay. As long as you’re sure.” He stepped back out of the way. “I’ll see you later.”

“Sure thing!” With that, Deku hurried past him and on to his destination.

All Might went on his way, too, concerned but ultimately shrugging it off. If the boy says he’s sleeping well enough, I have no reason to doubt him. He seemed mostly normal aside from those circles under his eyes. Maybe I was just imagining things.

But after that day, every time All Might saw his successor it was the same thing, only appearing to get progressively worse. The dark circles and sluggish movements became delayed response time, which became struggling in class, which became staying up late to catch up on his work, and the cycle continued. The retired pro hero knew if he didn’t put a stop to it now, it would only snowball into a mountain the boy simply could not climb at his current skill level.

So one Friday afternoon, he called Deku into the teacher’s lounge for a meeting with him after class.

“Hi, All Might,” his student greeted brightly as he stepped inside, set down his bag, and sat on the couch across from him, as per usual. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes.” All Might frowned, acting very serious – as serious as if he was about to reveal some new information about the League of Villains. He leaned forward in his seat and looked directly into Deku’s eyes. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

Deku blinked, surprised. He suddenly seemed nervous. “Yes,” he replied, though he didn’t sound sure. He also averted his gaze. “Didn’t you ask me that the other day?”

“Look me in the eye, young Midoriya,” All Might said, “and tell me you’re getting enough sleep.”

Deku looked him in the eye, but that was as far as he got. “I…I’m getting…sleep…”

“How much?”

“I don’t know…” Deku averted his eyes again. “Six or seven hours?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me that.”

Again, that was as far as his student got. He held out for five seconds before sighing heavily and admitting, “Okay, more like four or five.”

“Every night?”

“Yeah.”

“For how long?”

Deku’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Two weeks.”

“Midoriya, that is not acceptable.”

“I’m sorry, All Might. It’s just that I’m trying really hard to keep up with the others both in training and academics, and by the time I’m done I don’t have enough hours left to sleep, so I just…work with what I have.”

“This problem,” All Might said, “needs to be fixed. Starting right now. What can we do to help you get the sleep you need? Where are you struggling?”

Deku finally looked at him again. “I’m not really struggling anywhere. It’s just that I don’t have time. Between personal training with you, classes, homework, field work, special classes, internships—”

“You have far too much on your plate, and when it’s all over you just don’t have time left to sleep well.”

“Exactly.”

All Might nodded, considering. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. Starting on Monday, we’ll cut our personal training time in half so you can get an extra hour that way. I’ll talk to Aizawa about some of the other things.”

Deku’s eyes widened. “I don’t want to stop training—”

“We’re not going to stop. Just going to take it easy for a while.” All Might’s gaze softened. “Midoriya, you’re an incredible hero in training. But you’re still just a kid. You need to get the right amount of sleep or you’re going to fall behind no matter how hard you work. I know you’re smart enough to understand that.”

Deku sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it. You’ll have the rest of your life to be sleep deprived as a pro hero. But for now, as long as you’re a student – my student – you will get the amount of sleep you need to learn well. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. One more thing.” All Might got to his feet. “For this weekend, we won’t train at all.”

“What?!” Deku exclaimed.

“Do I really have to explain myself again?”

“N-No, but I can still train, even if we don’t do as much of it.”

“Trust me.” The pro hero sat beside his student on the opposite couch, putting an arm around his shoulders. “No alarms tomorrow. Sleep in. Rest. Catch up on your homework during the day and then sleep in again on Sunday. We’ll start our training an hour later on Monday. Okay?”

Part of Deku was upset that he’d allowed his fatigue to take him this far, but on the other hand, he was incredibly grateful to All Might for helping him find a solution. “Yeah. All right.”

“I’m sorry it took me this long to notice something was off about you.” The teacher shook his head. “Two weeks...”

“It’s okay. I knew I was tired, but I didn’t want anyone to worry, so I didn’t say anything. It’s not your fault.”

“Next time you’re feeling overwhelmed in any capacity, tell me.” All Might poked his side. “Understand?”

Deku squeaked. “Y-Yes, I understand.”

All of a sudden, All Might remembered. A while ago the students of Class 1-A had had a rescue mission training day as part of their gym class, during which Midoriya had been on the villains’ side. All Might had wondered how his protégé would handle being a bad guy for once, even if it was only for practice, so he’d watched him carefully throughout the training. At one point Kaminari had found him, and within minutes of their meeting each other on the field, Deku had been completely subdued by the electric hero.

All Might had spoken to Kaminari about it afterward and learned that – apparently – the boy was incredibly ticklish, and the whole class knew it. It wasn’t the most conventional or preferred method to subdue a villain, but it had worked in the moment, so All Might had let it go.

But now…

“Say, Midoriya, why don’t I help you get a head start on tonight’s rest?” he teased, abandoning any kind of subtlety in favor of grabbing onto Deku’s ribs and digging in. He grinned when the boy squealed and began to giggle hysterically, squirming in his strong grip.

“Nohohohohoho, All Mihihihihihihight!” Deku cried, pushing at his teacher’s hands, blushing furiously. “Dohohohohohohon’t!”

“I have it on good authority that you’re used to this kind of treatment from your classmates,” All Might said, chuckling a little. “It certainly seemed to tire you out during your rescue mission training.”

Deku let out a sound that was something between a yelp and a whine. “Yohohohohohou saw thahahahahahat?!”

“Of course. I’m one of your teachers, after all.”

“Agh! Thahahahahaht’s so embahahahaharrassing!”

“Why?” All Might suddenly pulled Deku in for a bear hug, the boy’s back against his chest, and wrapped his arms around him to trap him in place, digging his fingers into his ribs even deeper. “I thought it was rather endearing.”

“Nahahahahahahahahahahaha!” Deku shrieked with unstoppable giggles, squirming and kicking helplessly. “Buhuhuhuhuhuhuhut he complehehehehehetely dohohohohominated me out thehehehere!”

“Perhaps, but he also was creative in his methods of stopping your progress while not physically harming you. The rest of your classmates engaged in actual combat once you were down, but Kaminari knew tickling was the perfect way to subdue you while not actually hurting you. Both of you left the training grounds uninjured that day, if you’ll recall.”

“Buhuhuhuhuhuhut--!”

“No buts,” All Might said firmly. “No more protests, no more analyzing. All I’m trying to do right now is help wear you out a little more so you sleep well tonight.” The pro moved a hand down to squeeze experimentally at a hip, which he recalled having been the spot that got Deku to the ground during that mission in the first place. Deku let out a loud squeal and started thrashing in his arms. All Might laughed. “Besides, we almost never get to have fun together, do we? It’s a nice change of pace.”

“ALL MIHIHIHGHT!!” Deku shrieked, grabbing desperately at his teacher’s hand on his hip. “NOT THEHEHEHEHERE, PLEASE!!” In response, All Might grabbed both of his hips and started tickling, making the boy laugh and flail so hard he toppled off the couch. The pro followed him down. “NONONONO PLEHEHEHEHEASE NOT THEHEHEHEHERE!! ALL MIGHT!!”

All Might was easily able to pin Deku to the floor, his fingers flying across his torso at top speed, tickling every spot he could find until his student was a giggling, squirming, blushing mess on the floor. Surprisingly, as soon as All Might’s focus left his hips, Deku’s begging ceased as well. The hero scribbled in his underarms, spidered over his ribs and sides, and clawed at his stomach, and all the while the boy simply lay there and giggled and let it happen.

Then he moved back to the hips, and all of that changed.

“NOHOHOHOHOHO!!” Deku screamed, tossing his head back and laughing loudly, fighting back for real now. “NOHOHOHOHOHO, PLEHEHEHEHEASE, I CAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAKE IT THEHEHEHEHEHERE!! ALL MIGHT!!”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with me tickling you everywhere else,” All Might observed, grinning at the hysterics he was causing in his young student. “But this must be a bad spot, huh?”

“IT’S THE WOHOHOHOHOHORST!!” Deku cried, his laughter starting to sound hoarse now. “PLEASE, ALL MIHIHIHHIHIHIHIGHT!! DOHOHOHOHOHON’T TIHIHIHIHICKLE ME THEHEHEHEHEHERE!!”

All Might couldn’t help but smirk. “Are you going to let yourself sleep in tomorrow?”

“YEHEHEHEHEHES!!”

“No alarms?”

“NOHOHOHOHO ALARMS!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

“And you’ll do the same on Sunday?”

Deku shrieked. He knew his teacher was just messing with him now, and it made him feel both incredibly flustered and extremely cared for at the same time. He started pounding the floor, trying to tap out. “YEHEHEHEHEHES I’LL GEHEHEHEHET ENOUGH SLEHEHEHEHEHEEP!! I’LL SLEHEHEHEHEHEEP FOR HOHOHOHOHOHOURS!! DAHAHAHAHAHAYS, EVEN!! I PROHOHOHOMISE!! JUST PLEHEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

Finally, All Might stopped tickling and let Deku catch his breath. He couldn’t help but smile at how red-faced and teary-eyed the boy was now, though his student didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, as soon as he was able to sit up, he beamed at his teacher.

“T-Thanks…All Might…” he said between breaths. “I really…needed that…today…”

“I agree.” All Might reached forward and hugged him. “Take better care of yourself, young Midoriya. Please. I don’t want to have to worry about you more than is standard in our line of work.”

Deku hugged him back. “You’re right. I’ll do better, I promise.”

“Good.” The pro hero pulled away, grinned, and ruffled Deku’s hair. “Sleep well tonight, Izuku.”

Grinning, the hero in training nodded. “I definitely will.”

[andyet-here-we-are]

I Would Get Into Millions of Accidents Just to See You, Chapter 4 (aka Nurse Geralt AU)

(Check the pinned post for the first three chapters please~)

"Wow. Either we're going to host a pasta eating contest this evening, or they have spread some news about an incoming pasta shortage in the country," Ciri teases as she looks at the mass of pasta boxes on the counter. "Or in the world," she corrects when she realizes he is still not done taking the pasta boxes out of the grocery bags. "Which one is it?"

"Neither."

"Then why?"

"Can't a guy buy pasta as much as he wants simply because he wanted to? Does there need to be a reason for that?"

"So, you're telling me that I cannot buy as much as candy I want, but you can buy a ridiculous amount of pasta. And you can do that because?"

"Because I'm an adult, and you're not. End of the discussion."

"But that's not fair!" Ciri huffs, folding her arms over her chest. "I can't wait to be an adult so I can get whatever I want and be unstoppable."

Geralt reaches over and ruffles her hair before he asks: "What kind of pasta do you think we should make?"

"Can I ask something, too, before I answer to that?" When Geralt nods, she continues, "You've said that you met someone special, but you didn't let me know anything more than that. Is... Is this special person going to join us for dinner today?"

"Yeah, someone's going to join us for dinner, but it's not someone you don't know. Just Mrs. April."

"Oh. Okay. Nothing came out of it, I guess."

Ciri looks so disappointed that Geralt feels like telling her the truth. But no, he won't ruin the surprise and let it go to waste after keeping his mouth shut this whole time.

She picks up the penne one and shakes the box to make her point.

"With chicken, heavy cream, and—"

"And sundried tomatoes."

Geralt doesn't know why he couldn't think of that. It's both his and Ciri's favorite pasta recipe after all. For a second, he feels extremely stupid for buying every kind of pasta he could find. But then he thinks: "This won't be the last time Jaskier comes here," and finds himself imagining them trying to choose what kind of pasta to make together, and shakes his head a little. No need to feel stupid, he will have to deal with not only one, but two pasta monsters soon if he is lucky.

He smiles at the thought.

***

After setting up the table, Geralt takes a shower and starts to get ready. He nearly asks Ciri which button-up shirt he should wear, but then decides against it since he knows that she would put two and two together and ask something like:

"Since when you use your most expensive perfume at home just because our old, lovely neighbour will come over for dinner?"

Nope, he'll pass, thank you very much. He takes a look at his gray and white windowpane shirt, then at the other shirt he is holding in his hands as if making the hardest decision in his whole life. He doesn't want to look like he is trying too hard, but doesn't want to look like he's not trying at all either. It has been so long since the last time he was on a date that he—

"That's a... date," he whispers to himself because it only occurs to him now.

And suddenly he can understand why Jaskier sounded anxious about meeting Ciri.

This is technically their first date, and Geralt simply invited him over like that's something they have been doing for years. Most people don't even mention their kids on the first date— let alone introducing them.

But it's not the same thing, right? Jaskier already knows about Ciri, and the musician loves kids.

Jaskier didn't back away when Geralt talked to him about his daughter for the first time.

No, he didn't back away and didn't give him this "Oh no, he has a kid, that's such a deal-breaker”  look like most people do. What he did was listening to him with interest instead, a warm smile on his face.

Maybe that's why it felt only natural to invite him over for their first date.

Still, even though he knows that everything will go perfectly fine, maybe it wasn't fair to put such pressure on him just yet.

Well, too late for thinking stuff like that now. Geralt doesn't think he will regret this though. He is somehow sure that he won't.

Smiling, he decides that the basic black button-up shirt and beige trousers will do just fine.

A few minutes later he gets a text from Jaskier:

[I'll be there in a few. Don't forget to leave the door open~]

***

Ciri is busy lying on the couch and watching Jaskier's cover again when he finally arrives.

He closes the door behind himself, being careful so as not to make any sound even though he doesn't have to do that since Ciri's watching the video at full volume and wouldn't hear even if he just hit the door shut anyway.

When he sees that Geralt is standing only a few feet away from him in the hallway, his whole face lights up like he has just seen a million fireflies hovering above them.

For a while, they don't even move.

They don't blink or utter anything.

They just simply stare at each other like they cannot believe this is really happening.

Jaskier looks so perfect with his dark jeans and a white button-up shirt with blue small anchors pattern that Geralt swallows—as always, he seems like he doesn't even accept the existence of the first four buttons.

One second later Jaskier mirrors him and swallows, then takes small, silent steps towards him until they're barely one step away from each other.

"It's good to finally see you, Mr. Handsome Nurse," whispers the musician, never taking his eyes off Geralt even for a millisecond.

"You call me 'Mr. Handsome Nurse' so much that I'm this close to thinking that you only talk to me because you have a nurse kink or something," Geralt whispers back, and Jaskier's lips slowly curve into a lopsided, mischievous grin as he slowly tilts his head to the side—the space between them closing.

He isn't sure which one of them is responsible for that, but he nearly feels the man's warm breath against his skin—they are so close that he can see his pupils react, and his heart skips a beat.  

"I mean, I don't not have it," Jaskier lifts one shoulder in a half shrug "You're the one to blame. Oh wait, do I hear my own cover?"

Just like that, they are not standing too close to each other anymore, and it's probably for the best, considering they aren't alone and he doesn't want to give his daughter a heart attack.

"The very same. She watches your video again and again. I stopped counting after the fifth time."

"And yet she doesn't even know that she lives with the 'jabroni' she is mad at. Poor thing." The musician clicks his tongue before he grins again. "Or poor you. We shall see. Anyway, my time has come."

After hanging his paper bag on the hall stand, Jaskier silently steps into the living room and makes a beeline for the back of the couch Ciri is lying on.

"Gosh, what a handsome man," he comments as he leans over the back of the couch. "Eh," he says, scrunching his nose, "his nose doesn't look that great in the left bottom box from this angle, but well, what done is done."

Ciri practically jumps out of her skin when she turns her head to the source of the familiar voice. She screams, yeah, actually screams, and falls from the couch to the floor with a loud thump.

"Well, my fans usually prefer to hug me instead, but that's an option as well."

Ciri doesn't look like she is going to say something anytime soon. She just stares at Jaskier with owl-like wide eyes, and Geralt tries his best not to laugh as he leans against the door frame and watches them. The keyword is "tries" though because he is clearly failing.

"...why Jaskier is standing in our living room?" his daughter asks, eyes still on the musician.

"You can thank my hacker friend for that," looking pretty amused, Jaskier answers before he could and holds out a hand to help her to her feet, "he gave me access to all of my fans' addresses so I could surprise them one by one."

"Did I fall asleep? I'm quite sure that I'm dreaming." Ciri blinks twice like trying to come out of a dream, then frowns as she gets up, "Also, that's the worst idea I've ever heard, what if one of your fans turns out to be a psycho and traps you in their house for the rest of your life? Never lets you leave?"

"Well, I wouldn't have any objection to being trapped in here. Feel free to try. Let me know though if you guys are planning to keep me here forever, so I can grab a few essentials from my home."

"You mean your lute?"

Jaskier turns his head to Geralt before sitting on the couch and saying: "She is really a smart one, Geralt. Just like her dad."

"Even smarter than me, believe me."

If someone would tell Geralt that he would have to say "Ciri, please stop poking our guest,"  to his daughter ever, he wouldn't believe them, but he finds himself warning Ciri with the exact words since she sits next to Jaskier and disbelievingly pokes the man's cheek with her index finger with a determined and curious expression as if she is examining E.T. The musician doesn't seem like he minds it, though.

"You're real. And you're really here," she eventually decides.

"Yeah, as real as that delicious smell coming from the kitchen."

"This doesn't make any sense. I just can't understand why— I mean how is that even— Can someone please explain to me what's really happening here?"

"Why don't we do that while having dinner before it gets cold?" Geralt offers, and Jaskier must be really hungry because he immediately stands up from the couch and pulls Ciri with him before she can resist.

***

"So, basically, my dad was your nurse for nearly a month and I learn about this just now?" Ciri has this 'How could you do this to me?' expression on her face, so Geralt turns to link eyes with Jaskier and mouths the word, 'help' in his direction. Yes, he can deal with even villain-looking, probably dangerous criminal patients without any hesitation, but he can't deal with the way his daughter stares at him right now.

"It's not your dad's fault, Ciri. I told him not to tell you anything about it so we could surprise you."

Geralt loves how he says "we could" like they are a team, to be honest.

Jaskier keeps talking about how Geralt would let her know if it wasn't for him, and Ciri doesn't look that mad anymore until Jaskier adds: "It's not my fault that he is a handsome jabroni who didn't even send me a text and kept me waiting for too long though," while casually stabbing his salad with his fork a few times. "If he didn't call me today, my next cover was going to be 'Call Me Maybe' probably."

Geralt almost chokes on his water. He was so wrong about this whole "team" thing apparently. He knows that some people say "A first date is chaotic by nature", but he wouldn't think it would be this chaotic.

"This salad is pretty good, Geralt." Jaskier completely ignores his reaction, "And the pasta makes me feel like there's a festival in my mouth. It's fantastic. You weren't kidding when you said you could show me how a proper dinner looked like, I see. Kudos to you, gorgeous."

Geralt feels the heat rushing to his whole face, wishing the ground would swallow him up right now and here.

Seriously, someone please bury him.

If someone was told to look mad, surprised, and happy at the same time at an audition they would exactly look like Ciri—or Harrison Ford since he's excellent at that as well—because that's exactly how she looks right now.

"...this song was for my dad? He's the one who kept you waiting? He's the him in 'It Must be Him' ?"

"Uh-huh. That's correct, dear," Jaskier confirms before shoving some pasta into his mouth. "I think he's worth waiting for, though. Still, it was a bit mean of him to do so, don't you think so?"

"Any sane person would agree with you, Jask. Of course, it's mean and inconsiderate."

Jask? Did Ciri just call him Jask?

They are already teaming up against him, oh God.

"Right?! Thank you!" The musician exclaims, flinging his hands in a wild gesture. "I mean, he could just send me a simple text at least, it would take him only a few seconds."

"Don't even mention it. So... Since he finally called you and you're here now, does this mean that you're this special person he—"

"Do you want some more pasta, Jaskier?" Hoping to change the subject, Geralt cuts in, but it's in vain since Jaskier just replies with a quick "Sure, please," and apologizes on behalf of Geralt because he interrupted her, signaling her to continue. The nurse can't help but think that he looks like a fox digging beneath the snow for voles with these curious, hopeful, and focused blue eyes.

"It's okay," thank God his daughter doesn't continue with her question because Geralt really doesn't need to feel more ashamed, "I forgot what I was going to ask anyway."

Ciri gives Geralt her "This isn't over yet," look and asks the man something about one of his original songs instead.

Jaskier looks a bit disappointed at not being able to hear the rest of the question at first, but he answers Ciri's question wholeheartedly all the same.

***

They take their time eating as they have no reason to hurry, talking about whatever Ciri and Jaskier bring up. Geralt is proud of himself that he didn't actually choke in dinner, because with the amount of flirting Jaskier is doing in front of Ciri, he wouldn't be surprised if he did.

Ciri's eyes sparkle whenever Jaskier says something flattering about Geralt and flirts with him, and she looks extremely happy—like she is living in a dream.

As much as Geralt says: "Sit down, you're our guest," Jaskier doesn't listen to him and insists that he helps clear the table after they are done with dinner, because: "We can be done with it faster if I help, I'm a guest with working hands, aren't I?"

So he helps with clearing the table, and also with drying the dishes Geralt washes by hand because they aren't supposed to be washed in the dishwasher. He answers Ciri's questions meanwhile and asks her some questions about her as well— her favorite color, her favorite animals, favorite subject in school. Geralt can feel that he is not asking just for the sake of asking, he asks because he wants to know. Because he actually wonders.

Even though Jaskier is here for the first time, it feels domestic in a way that isn't unwelcome.

When they go back to the living room, Jaskier disappears for a while and returns with that paper bag he had hung on the hall stand.

"Thought I'd surprised my biggest fan not only with my presence but also with a little gift," he explains, handing the big bag to Ciri with a smile. "I hope you like it."

"You shouldn't have," Ciri returns the smile, astonished.

"I wanted to," Jaskier says as he sits on the armrest of the couch, watching her carefully opening the gift. "I think you should just tear off the wrap, dear," he suggests after a while, clearly excited to see her reaction.

"Not gonna lie, I also thought about getting flowers for your dad, but then I thought: 'Nah! Why would I do that after I suffered because of him for fifteen days?' You know?"

Geralt lets out a long sigh, running a hand over his face. Jaskier will never let him live this down, will he? Geralt can picture him going "Remember that time you didn't call me for fifteen days five years ago? When you kept me waiting after I left the hospital? I still think of that time sometimes and it makes my heart bleed," five years later, simply because he refused something Jaskier wanted him to do.

"You did the right thing. He should be grateful that you're even here right now," Ciri agrees. Well, fuck Geralt I guess. It's not like he is Ciri's father who loves her more than anything and who needs her to defend him currently or anything after all.

She immediately goes for a hug as soon as she finally opens the gift, cheerfully declaring how much she likes it and thanking the musician.

"Geralt has mentioned that you love drawing," Jaskier hugs her back gently, happy with her reaction. He had bought her a huge, professional art set. It looks so beautiful that even the nurse feels like taking a shot at drawing again despite knowing too well that he sucks at it.

"I don't get gifts or flowers, okay, no problem, but can't I get a damn hug, too, at least?" Geralt feels like asking, because they look adorable and he wants in, dammit.

As if he is reading his mind, Jaskier motions for him to join them and says: "C'mere you emotional cactus—don't stand up over there like a sad spare tyre."

"I'm not a sad spare tyre," he grumbles a little but joins them in seconds, one arm hugging his daughter, the other hugging the musician.

"Yeah, now you're not," is what Jaskier says as he hugs them tighter.

***

About two hours later Geralt offers to watch a movie together and Ciri is busy setting up a movie—ninety percent "I, Robot" because she is crazy about that movie—before Jaskier can refuse.

Ciri talks about how mad she was when she first watched the movie with Geralt because she thought the movie would be about the short stories in the book, but in reality, the movie had very little to do with the book.

"It's okay though," she adds, "because this movie rocks anyway."

That's how they find themselves watching "I, Robot" with Ciri sitting between them with a big bowl of popcorn in her lap.

"Geralt, can I ask you something?" Jaskier asks before he shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"You look like a squirrel stuffing his little cheeks with walnuts," Geralt can't help but tease, "sure, ask if you don't get choked before you can."

"That's how you enjoy popcorn, you peasant."

"I don't know much about that since I don't like popcorn."

Jaskier gasps at that as if he said: "I bathe in the blood of the innocent every single day to maintain my health."

"How come someone doesn't like popcorn is behind my comprehension," he huffs like he is personally offended by that. Ciri warns them to keep it quiet with a loud "shhh," since she is fully focused on the movie.

"God, it's the same reaction every time I tell someone this," Geralt complains, "it doesn't even taste good, what there's to like?"

"You can always add some salt so it tastes good."

"It makes me feel thirsty then."

"Everyone loves popcorn! Everyone!"

"Well, not my dad," Ciri rolls her eyes as she pauses the movie. "If you weren't here he wouldn't even let me have popcorn even if I begged. 'It's not healthy, Ciri. And it doesn't even taste good. Let me peel some apples for you, instead.' " she imitates him, causing Jaskier to look at him in horror.

"Can you please stop looking at me like I'm a circle freak? I just don't like popcorn. Even that one pizza with peanut butter and gumball Crazy Eyes orders in 'Mr. Deeds' sounds more delicious than popcorn."

"...ew, just ew. I'm concerned for you if you actually think that. How about caramel popcorn?"

"I feel the same about caramel popcorn."

"You're impossible, Geralt. Totally impossible. Well, what can I say? Your loss, our gain. Right, dear?"

"Right!"

"Give me a high-five then!" The musician says with a grin, raising his hand. They share a high-five proudly as if they have just saved the world together from earth-threatening asteroids.

"What were you going to ask?" Geralt asks curiously, but Jaskier just blankly looks at him instead of answering.

"Let me guess. You forgot? See, you wouldn't forget it if it wasn't for all that popcorn questions of yours."

"Don't talk like that in front of our popcorn, Geralt. Ciri, can you please keep playing the movie?"

"Gladly."

***

"I think she fell asleep," Jaskier informs him with a whisper when there are about twenty minutes left of the movie.

Geralt pauses the movie and smiles when he sees that Ciri had fallen asleep on the musician's shoulder—the sight warming up his heart especially when Jaskier looks at her fondly.

"Figured out so. Usually, this is where she announces her dislike for V.I.K.I and rants about Sonny's wink."

"Can't blame her, V.I.K.I is so diabolic."

"We're all on the same page about that," he agrees. "Hey, it doesn't seem like you made her go 'meh' like you were afraid that you would, huh? I told you that she already adores you. I think she likes you even more now."

"Well, I was afraid that I couldn't prove that I was worthy of her gorgeous dad. And I hope her dad shares his daughter's feelings," Jaskier pokes Geralt's arm with his elbow teasingly.

"Oh, please. If anything, it was me who should have been afraid. You two teamed up against me, 'Jask'."

"It's because she's a defender of truth, not because she was playing favorites or anything."

"I better tuck in this defender of truth," Geralt says as he stands up, and if his eyes aren't fooling him, Jaskier watches him affectionately when he picks up Ciri so he can carry her to her room.

He gently carries her to her room and tucks her in. "Sweet dreams, pumpkin," the nurse plants a soft, small kiss on his daughter's head before heading back to the living room, feeling happy that he has seen her smile and laugh a lot today. And truth be told, he feels a bit excited that he can be alone with Jaskier for a while.

"Wanna finish the movie?" he asks after settling on the couch and plays the movie again when Jaskier nods.

"I've forgotten how cool this scene was." Jaskier says when Spooner screams "Save her! Save the girl!" and Sonny listens to him, trusts Spooner to apply the nanites. "Gosh, I've got goosebumps. Seriously. It's not even just a figure of speech."

When Jaskier holds his arm up to show it, Geralt gently strokes the other man's arm by instinct, feeling goosebumps along his skin. As soon as he does that, he feels that he gets goosebumps himself, but it has nothing to do with the movie, and everything to do with the beautiful man sitting next to him right now—even though, yeah, Jaskier is right, this scene is so cool that no one can claim otherwise.

Without Ciri between them, they sit close to each other now, their thighs touching.

Geralt looks at Jaskier's surprised face; his incredibly blue eyes look so luminous in the reflected light from the TV. So luminous, and intriguing.

A moment later, Jaskier makes himself more comfortable on the couch. He then points at Geralt's right arm: "Is it okay if I— you know."

It amazes Geralt how he shamelessly flirts with him in front of his daughter but gets shy over this. He holds back a chuckle, gladly wrapping his arm around Jaskier.

He wonders if Jaskier can hear his heartbeats quickening when the musician leans his head on his chest.

"You make a comfy pillow."

"Thank you, I guess?"

"No, Geralt. Thank you."

And with that, they focus on what's left of the movie. Or more like Jaskier focuses on it while Geralt is busy focusing on him.

He knows that Jaskier is really focused on the movie because he hears him sniffing lightly when Sonny asks "Does this make us friends?" to Spooner five minutes later.

"Are you seriously crying over a robot right now?" he chuckles.

"He has a name, you heartless man," Jaskier argues, getting rid of Geralt's arm and wiping his tears away. "You don't understand," he holds a hand up in defense, "he made a friend. Sonny made a friend, Geralt. For the first time in his life."

"...so?"

"So? What do you mean 'so'? It's an emotional scene." The musician lets out a frustrated sigh, "You're unbelievable."

"I'll let you know that even Ciri doesn't cry at this part."

Instead of making a comment, Jaskier turns to look at the TV again, so Geralt does the same, but he soon finds himself looking at him again because of his lack of comment when the movie is about to end. And that's how he realizes that the other man is busy trying to blink away the tears that have started to well up in his eyes once more.

As he watches Jaskier wrapping his arms around himself as if he's trying to hold himself together, he feels like this isn't really about Sonny anymore—maybe it never was.

"Jaskier..?" he calls his name, but the musician doesn't reply, looking lost in his thoughts. So Geralt puts his hand on Jaskier's shoulder and calls his name again, concerned.

"Are you okay?" he asks when Jaskier finally snaps out of his own head and confusedly looks at him.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm just— I don't know what came over me."

Not buying Jaskier's answer, Geralt presses his lips together and just stares at him in a way that screams: "We both know that this is not true and I'm gonna keep staring at you until you tell me what's the matter."

"Seriously, it's nothing important," Jaskier gives a dismissive wave of his hand and tries to smile.

It isn't his usual, warmer than the sun on a summer day type of smile. It isn't his spectacular smile that makes Geralt think of everything beautiful in the world; makes him think of the most beautiful, colorful flowers, makes him think of a sweet wind that gently caresses your face just when you need it, making you feel at peace.

No, it isn't Jaskier's kind of smile that makes Geralt feel like watching the waves while listening to calming melodies, and he hates this heartbreakingly apologetic and tight smile the other man gives him.

"Doesn't seem like it," Geralt says softly as he squeezes his shoulder in what he hopes is a reassuring manner, "Why don't you tell me what it is? I've been told I'm a good listener."

"It just—" Jaskier takes a deep breath and keeps his head low as he avoids looking at Geralt, his shoulders slumping as if in defeat. Geralt's mind is already racing with possible things that the musician could say.

"It reminded me of someone I used to know. Of my first real friend," he explains. "She had asked me the exact same question when I saved her ass from his so-called foster parents. 'Does this makes us friends?' I can still remember the look in her eyes when she asked that. I was the first friend she ever had, as well. We didn't get along when we first met, truth be told. But after that, we were simply inseparable.  

"We weren't liked by most adults—and also by the other kids actually, because well," Jaskier chuckles dryly, "we were both pretty handful kids. It didn't really matter though, we could handle everything together. At least we felt like we could, and did so for nearly fourteen years, and then turned out we—"

Jaskier swallows the tight lump that has formed in his throat. He can hardly utter the next words, and when he does, his voice is thick with emotion.

"Turned out we can't handle too well with muggers with knives."

Feeling his own eyes brimming with tears, Geralt can't even react at first as he watches Jaskier crying openly.

After a while, "I'm so sorry," is all he can say before he wraps his arms around Jaskier's slightly shaking frame and pulls him into a hug. The other man welcomes the hug and snuggles up to him as Geralt repeats the same words again: "I'm so sorry, Jaskier."

"She was my best friend, Geralt," he whispers brokenly, burying his face in the nurse's chest. "She was like the sister I never had."

Geralt doesn't know how long they stay like this; with Jaskier quietly crying and holds on to him like he is his lifeline and Geralt resting his chin on top of the musician's head, caressing his soft hair with his left hand, and rubbing small, soothing circles on wherever his right hand can reach—on his arm, his back. It can be half an hour, it can be only fifteen minutes. He doesn't really care.

He just wants him to give Geralt his usual, heart-warming Jaskier Smile; wants Jaskier to feel better. Better and not lonely anymore.

He highly doubts that Jaskier has let anyone in after he lost his friend—let them really know him and get close to him. Anyone besides Geralt. And he can't help but wonder if that was why no one visited Jaskier at the hospital; if that was why he most likely didn't even let anyone know about the accident.

" 'm sorry for ruining our first date," Jaskier eventually mumbles. "I shouldn't have brought this up."

Geralt gently grabs Jaskier's chin and lifts it up a little so their eyes meet. Jaskier has a guilty, ashamed expression on his face, his eyes are red from crying.

"You're not ruining anything, you don't need to apologize," Geralt looks into his eyes and assures him, wiping the tears away from the musician's face.

Frowning, the other man mirrors his action and reaches for Geralt's face to wipe the tears away with his thump. "Making you cry is pretty much considered as ruining our date in my book. And to think that I just broke down because of something a bloody robot said—"

" 'A bloody robot'? He has a name, you know. It's Sonny. You heartless, beautiful musician. Shame on you."

Surprised by Geralt's comeback, Jaskier laughs and hides his face in the nurse's chest once again—but in embarrassment this time— as he complains: "Oh lord. You're the worst."

"Well, you probably shouldn't have dedicated that impressive, amazing video to me if I'm that bad. Seemed like you really spent so much time on it."

That makes him look at Geralt and give him a smile. And Geralt finds himself smiling back, too, thinking: "Here it is. His Jaskier Smile."

"I think you meant to say 'bearable musician', before" Jaskier teases. "That's the second time you've mentioned it, you really like it then I guess."

"That was one of the nicest things someone ever has done for me. And the same thing goes for your drawing, speaking of which," Geralt admits as Jaskier pulls himself away from him a bit. He finds himself missing his warmth already. "I didn't think you would do something like singing a song for me though, so imagine my surprise when I got home and saw that video."

"Wait, for real? Don't tell me that I'm the first patient who tried to serenade you. I mean— you're just so..." he vaguely gestures to him, "So you."

"You're not the first patient who tried to flirt with me, but you're the first one who took it that far. And the first one who went full 'here's my number, so call me, definitely,' on me."

"No regrets. Well, actually, I take that back. One regret. I regret that I didn't ask for your number that day. Uh, Geralt?"

"Yeah?"

"I feel terrible about before. I mean it, I shouldn't have brought it up and I'm really—

"If you say 'sorry' again I'll lock you in a room filled with popcorn without any salt and let you rot there."

"That's your idea of torture?"

"That's my idea of hell."

"I must say that your idea of hell is pretty sweet then, if only it—" Jaskier's eyes suddenly widen when Geralt lets out a tired yawn, "Oh shit, what time is it?" he asks, frantically searching for his phone on the couch, then looking at the coffee table to see if it's on there.

"I think you left your phone in the kitchen," the nurse replies, not understanding why he is panicking. “Maybe he was supposed to call someone, but he forgot about it,” his mind suggests, but then Jaskier asks the same question again with a bonus, "When are you gonna go to work tomorrow?" question.

"You're gonna wake up early tomorrow, right? I'm sorry that I kept you this— I mean, please accept my apologies that I kept you up this late. And please don't let me rot in the Popcorn Room just because I said 'sorry'. It's late, isn't it? It's probably already past 1 a.m, and yet here I am. Good God," the musician shakes his head and stands up, clearly frustrated with himself, "how inconsiderate of me."

Finding his reaction to the situation adorable, Geralt chuckles and reaches out to the other man to pull him back on the couch, but Jaskier resists.

"It's okay, calm down. I'm on the night shift tomorrow," Geralt lets him know. "Also, I thought you had no problem with the Popcorn Room since you love popcorn."

"Oh. Glad to hear that you don't need to wake up that early tomorrow then," Jaskier says, looking like he feels suddenly stupid. "Still though, I'm sure you had a tiring day at work today, so I better get going already. And for the record; I don't have any problem with being locked in a room filled with popcorn, I have a problem with not having you there with me. Anyway, thank you for having me today, Geralt. I'm so happy that I could finally see you again and finally met Ciri. She is such a sweetheart."

Geralt pats the empty space next to him, but Jaskier taps his wrist twice like he's wearing a watch, trying to emphasize the time.

"Wow, you're trying to get rid of me already, I see," the nurse jokes, hoping it would make Jaskier convince to sit down again. "I thought it would take three days at least. Is it because I'm not wearing my work clothes? Am I not attractive enough without them?"

Jaskier rolls his eyes at that before saying: "You could wear a rubbish bag and still look attractive, Geralt."

"Then can you please sit down?" Geralt insists, "For a minute at least?"

The other man finally gives in and sits down next to him with a sigh.

"You're aware of the fact that Ciri will tear me to pieces tomorrow because I didn't wake her up when she fell asleep, right?" Geralt wonders, facing Jaskier and propping his elbow on the back of the couch so he can prop his hand against his cheek as he talks. "Besides, yeah, it's late. Why don't you just stay here tonight?"

Jaskier opens his mouth—probably to kindly refuse, but Geralt doesn't let him speak and continues: "If you're thinking about replying with 'I don't want to bother you,' or something like that, you better get ready to say hi to the hell because it's nonsense."

"Hmm." The other man copies his sitting position on the couch, "By 'hell' you mean the Popcorn Room again, of course."

"Damn right."

"Well, I think I'd like to stay away from hell tonight," Jaskier shrugs one shoulder lazily. "Only if you promise to go to sleep soon, though. Otherwise, lead the way to the hell, Mr. Handsome Nurse."

"I think you missed the part where I said I don't have to wake up that early tomorrow," Geralt snorts. "How about we go to the kitchen now so I can make us hot chocolate?"

"No, I heard it loud and clear," Jaskier stares at him with a neutral expression, "but you still need to rest, love."

Geralt hopes Jaskier cannot see he is blushing because of the way the musician chose to finish his sentence.

He is about the resist when Jaskier holds up a finger in warning, "I mean it. I'm outta here if you decide to argue with me on that."

The nurse can't help but sigh in disbelief and disappointment. It makes his heart flutter in his chest though, because he is sure that Jaskier would love to stay up for another hour at least and just keep talking, too, and yet, he puts Geralt first.

As much as he wants to argue, he knows Jaskier is right—he needs to rest, and if he stays up for another hour he won't feel well-rested tomorrow.

"No wonder why Ciri gets annoyed whenever I tell her to go to sleep," he thinks aloud, causing the other man to grin at him.

"So, what do you say? Have you carefully listened and agreed to the terms and conditions? Shake my hand to check the box," Jaskier holds out his hand.

Geralt picks up Jaskier's hand with grace and lightly kisses the back of it without any hesitation. Not expecting this, the musician gapes at him—looking adorable as ever.

"Yes, Jaskier," the nurse smiles, "I have carefully listened and agreed to the terms and conditions."

They finally met! Yasss! A coin for your thoughts? I seriously wonder what you think about this chapter, dear Witchlings.💛 What part did you like the most? Did any part make you laugh or smile? I'd be SO grateful if you let me know 😅

I had so much fun while writing this chapter, by the way—well except for that one particular part. And the thing is even I had no idea. Jaskier just got emotional suddenly and here I was, wondering what the hell was happening. And it didn't feel natural to cut that part out, because it just happened.

And another thing is, I didn't think this chapter would be this long. I was just thinking "They will meet and have dinner together, then Jaskier will leave. That's it."

And I'm not gonna lie, I kinda wrote most of these two chapters in the same week instead of humaning and at one point I seriously started to wonder if Jaskier was planning to leave Geralt's home at all. I was planning to end the chapter when he leaves, so it was like:

-Okay, you met them, you had dinner, time to leave. Ciri, out of nowhere: Time to watch "I, Robot!" Me: No no no, that wasn't my plan, Jaskier is supposed to le— Jaskier, already eating popcorn and watching the movie: I'm going nowhere yet. *** Jaskier: *finally says he better get going* Geralt: Hell no! Me: 

 Joking aside, it's not up to me what he does and I love my precious, silly Dandelion. He can live there forever for all I care, I'm done with trying 😂

(Oh, if any of you have any ideas, feel free to let me know because I'm not sure what's gonna happen in the next chapter for now ><)

Thank you so much for reading 💛