#and i could have worked through a chunk of those slides by now but instead i'm blogging

[immortalsins]

finished tort law and we're now on to data protection law but just got hit with the 'nothing matters' mindset which tbh is to be expected for data protection law

accountability post for exam season hell. tasks for today are to finish revision materials (and the first round of revision) for 5 weeks of engineering management and law; tidy and organise my entire life; make a start on orthopaedic biomechanics revision; print out some past papers

[ken-dom]

I Guess I'm Already There

Lars Lindstrom x afab!reader

1.4k words

∘₊✧ Summary: Lars only every has one beer at parties, until you tell him it's ok to have another if he wants too. It feels naughty, and he likes it. When he wakes up flush against you, hard and leaking a stain on the front of his union suit, what will you tell him?

∘₊✧ Author's notes: For the Morning Sunshine Collab with Goosecord. Recently, I stared at pictures of Lars got some inspiration and here he is. Thank you @heresthestorymorningglory for endless encouragement and reading every draft! Title from This Must Be The Place (Naïve Melody) by Talking Heads. Gorgeous companion art — Sleepy Lars by @demon-dai

∘₊✧ Warnings/content: NSFW, wet dream, dry humping, fingering, first time for Lars, alcohol mentions

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Warm, weighted down by the safety of him, consciousness floats gradually back. You keep your eyes closed for a moment, far too comfortable to remove yourself from this cocoon, and first take in the smell of your surroundings instead. That familiar, comforting scent; a modest home made cosy by firewood, blankets that forever smell like laundry powder, the musk of his skin after a night snuggled flush beneath a thick winter duvet.

There’s still the faint scent of beer lacing his otherwise minty breath, too. Bianca never liked it when he had a drink, but you do. There’s something sexy about it, something almost forbidden. He’s a good boy. He’d never get drunk, never act irresponsibly, never drink more than just one if Bianca didn’t want him too. So you tell him to have another if he feels like it and he blushes crimson, because he does want it, and it feels naughty to him but he does it anyway, and that makes you bite your lip.

You breathe him in, slow and deep, one strong arm heavy around your middle and fist locked tight at your sternum. You slip your hand up to his, resting there together over with your heart.

He shifts behind you, stirring slightly from his slumber, and you press back against him; a signal that you’d much rather stay like this forever than wake up and face the day. But you find that Lars has a little predicament of his own.

Well, perhaps not so little.

He hums, rolling his hips just once at first, still asleep from what you can tell, and you freeze.

You’d never talked about this – hell, you’d never talked about sex, not really – but Lars is starting this himself from within his own dreams. His fingers at your chest unfurl and clutch at your skin, his hard length sliding over the curve of your ass as he gasps against the nape of your neck, dampening with every tiny whimper he lets escape.

You can’t – it’s delicious, yes – but you can’t. You won’t.

‘Lars?’ you breathe, ‘Lars, baby, wake up-’

You’re not sure it’s your whispered words that do it, but there’s a shift in the air nonetheless, and Lars is frozen now, too, heavy breaths laced with sobs.

He can feel himself leaking into his union suit, steady drops of precum pumping from the tip, making him shudder with anguished pleasure.

‘You okay?’ you wince, unmoving.

He swiftly slips his arm from around you and you’re left cold, even beneath the quilt.

Weighing up your options, there are few. You could leave, and he’ll likely never look you in the eye again. Or you could stay, and he’ll likely run away and never look you in the eye again. So, better face up to it then.

With a deep breath, you turn to find him trembling, those big warm hands you miss against your skin covering his face, instead.

Perhaps he’s simply woken overstimulated from cuddling all night and hasn’t actually realised his minor indiscretion. You could help him through that easily enough – you had before, plenty of times, taking him to the break room at work, switching off the lights and breathing through it with him until he was soothed. Even last night at Cindy’s birthday, you’d spent a good chunk of time in the bathroom, just to sit on the edge of the bathtub in silence together when the noise got too much.

But this? If he knows, he’ll be mortified and you’ve no idea how to help him work through the embarrassment of a wet dream – let alone whether he’d even want your help.

‘Too much?’ you try.

Lars shakes his head.

‘May I touch you?’

He nods, relieved to feel your fingers wrap carefully around his wrists, gently guiding his hands away from his face.

Lars squeezes his eyes shut. His mind is racing, but the most prominent thought is that you still want to touch him. That’s good, he supposes. That means you’re probably not disgusted.

‘Lars?’ you whisper, a final plea to help him open up and a reminder that you’re still with him, no matter where he is.

Biting and licking at his swollen lips, watery and painfully blue eyes blink open. You follow his gaze as it falls down to the impressive tent in the covers.

A relieved breath pushes its way from between your lips. He knows. He knows you know, and he’s trusting you. It will be ok. Lars will be ok.

‘That’s alright,’ you say.

He lifts his eyes back to you, worried brows questioning. Is it? Is it really okay? 

‘Nothing I haven’t seen before,’ you smile, ‘and besides…’ you close your fingers softly around one wrist again to guide him. ‘Is this okay?’

‘Y-yeah,’ Lars agrees, trepidation and excitement sparkling together in his eyes as you bring his fingertips under the covers and he feels your core, slick and swollen, even through your underwear. ‘Oh.’

You notice the small twitch of disappointment that crosses his sleep-softened face when you release his hand and turn your back to him again, but it vanishes just as quickly when you press your hips back, encouraging him to pick up exactly where he left off.

A weak groan pushes its way from between Lars’s lips. You’re giving him control. You’re letting him know that you want him to do this, letting him decide if he wants to, and he does. Like the two beers he drank last night, it feels naughty, and that sends a shiver tingling down his spine.

He presses his cock against you again, consciously this time, his hands finding your hips as he rocks against you, and he grips, bruisingly hard.

Usually, it takes a little encouragement for him to really give in and let out a little moan when you make out, and he’s always painfully shy about it afterwards. This morning, though, he’s unrestrained, growling under his breath as he ruts against you, your own desperate little cries only spurring him on.

Lars could cum right now; it just feels so good to truly give in, but this is the first time he’s been intimate with you beyond heated kissing and light touching over clothes, and right now he needs more than anything to make sure you’re enjoying this too.

He reaches around, fingertips grazing down your stomach until they push between your legs again, inside your underwear this time and sliding through your folds with unexpectedly expert precision. He slips a finger inside, fucking you on it in time with his own pleasure while the heel of his palm massages with perfect pressure, like he’d somehow already learned your body.

His breath is hot against your neck again, hops and peppermint coming in jagged bursts, and not relenting this time.

You could simply drown in him like this, surrounded by him, filled with him. Feeling the flexing of his forearm with one hand, with the other you reach up and behind to thread your fingers through his hair. He’s always so casually sexy when he’s mussed from sleep, and if you can’t see it from here, you need to feel it.

Your grip on his dirty blonde strands sends an extra little thrill rippling to his core and his hips stutter at the exact moment his fingers plunge you into unadulterated bliss.

From somewhere within the blinding haze of your climax, you snake the hand resting on his arm behind your back, between your body and his, palming at his cock as he pants, open mouth pressed to your back. With a final, firm twist of your wrist, he groans, spills his release in a long, thick rope that dampens the front of his union suit and feels hot and sticky against your palm.

Lars keeps his finger warm inside while he comes down from his own high, grounding himself with you and keeping you there with him while he recovers.

You’re empty when he slips out, relishing instead in the soft little kisses he’s trailing across from one shoulder blade to the other, and massaging tenderly at your hips where his fingers had delved a little too hard.

‘Good morning,’ you sigh.

Lars pushes out a long breath, as though he’d been holding it in his whole life until this moment, and smiles. ‘Good morning.’

[scathingsniper]

Interview

“Huh? Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

”Yeah? What’s this look like to you?”

”Like you’re going to wind up in a ditch before the night’s through, is what.”

Shinon raised his head to look the barkeep in the eye, and to prove that the glass he’d knocked off the counter a second ago wasn’t because he was feeling the effects of the drinks yet. Indeed, his eyes were still as sharp and hard as emeralds, but a pink flush had spread across his narrow face. With a few more, maybe he wouldn’t make it back to his new accommodations, but Gatrie wasn’t here to foot the bill and he didn’t like the place that much. He batted one stray chunk of glass toward the barkeep’s broom with the toe of his boot.

“No wonder you never have any customers. How can anyone enjoy themselves when the barkeep’s a judgmental bastard!”

The other man laughed and knelt down to sweep the rest of the glass into a box.

”All I’m saying is that it looks like you got something heavier on your mind.”

”I don’t.”

He shrugged, rose back up to his feet, and circled around the counter to dispose of the glass.

”Congratulations on your new position then. The folks at Garreg Mach monastery treat their people right, so I’ve heard. No more running around looking for mercenary work now, huh?”

”Yeah, who knows. A stuffy monastery’s going to get boring quick.”

Shinon crossed his arms over the counter and traced the tributaries of color in the polished grain. It was hickory, and a beautiful plank of it - one solid strip from end to end and carved into a wave. It would have made a fine bow, too, in any skilled bowyer’s hands but especially his, nimble and calloused without the privilege of comfort. An economical life had taught him early on about the value of weapons that could last when money didn’t, and how to wring any resource dry.

All of a sudden, he remembered the pair of wannabe-archers he’d watched in the training hall that afternoon and let out a snort that turned the barkeep’s attention away from picking shards of glass out of an old rag. 

”None of those spoiled brats look like they’ve ever held a weapon before.”

For every five arrows, only one ever made its mark, and barely. They had to have been sixteen, maybe seventeen, but far too old to be fumbling like that with no one around to crack the whip. By that age, Shinon was already making a name for himself as a mercenary. It was the only choice he had. That, or death.

Agitated, he reached for his mug and finished off the rest of it, thudded it back down to the counter and challenged the barkeep with his eyes to judge him again for the drink.

“Either their families don’t know that the instructors are training them to get killed, or they’re hardly more than sheltered babies themselves! You’d think those self-important fops would be storming the place if they found out their money was buying these half-rate lessons.”

Or maybe that was just his upbringing talking now. People who had more than pennies in their pockets could burn it if they wanted and hardly be any worse off for it. Kids though? Who’d throw their own kid into the fire?

“I asked them what they thought they were doing, shooting duds like that, and they said they were better at it with real bows. Idiots…”

Practice like it’s the real thing, otherwise what’s the point? He’d picked that up from his commander. Those training bows were doing those kids a disservice, too, so he’d loosened the strings, and as it turned out, that was all they really needed. Three shots out of every five hit their mark after. The rest of it was up to them to figure out.

”Why’d you take the job?” the barkeep asked, sliding another froth-topped mug toward Shinon, but he pushed it aside, instead leaning forward a little to study the man’s grizzled face like he couldn’t understand what he was asking.

”Money! Why else? I’m still part of a mercenary band back in Crimea, but the picking’s slim when there’s not a war going on.”

No thanks to Ike. And no thanks to the sub-humans that’d been leaving their countries more frequently lately. The next time he had to see one of their ugly, whiskered faces, it would be too soon. It was better that he found work on a different continent entirely, and someone had to make sure the Greil Mercenaries got the money they needed to stay fed and keep their weapons in working order anyway. Little Ikie was too busy playing with his new half-breed buddies.

“You don’t look too happy about it.”

“Happy?” Shinon scoffed. “What’s bein’ happy have to do with it? Are you happy working day-in and day-out?”

The barkeep shrugged. “I don’t mind it.”

Shinon tasted the new beer, made a face at it - like all the rest had been, it was lukewarm and not that great, but he kept coming back to this tavern anyway, for the whole week or so that he’d been in Fódlan.

“We’re just doing what we gotta do to live. That’s all.”

The barkeep hummed noncommittally, but left it at that. Shinon eyed him over the rim of his mug, downing half of it in two incensed gulps, then slammed it down like he had something more to say. Like how the only people who could afford to be happy were the ones who got everything handed to them on a silver plate. Or that you had to be an immature, idealistic fool to think life was anything more than a day-to-day grind. But he realized, too, that circumstance had finally swung in his favor and he benefited from being in the right place at the right time. It had landed him this cushy position at the Officers Academy. And it chafed.

He was a top-rate marksman, of course. The best Tellius had to offer. But he’d taken a bribe from a desperate priestess and left his last contract instead of killing her. It could have been anyone.

“Pah…”

He sunk his head down onto the counter and shut his eyes against his swimming vision.

“... The ditches around here aren’t all that comfortable, just so you know,” the barkeep pointed out lightheartedly. Shinon grumbled something, turned his head to shoot a glare up at the other man who’d come back with a glass and a rag in hand, and then raised back up onto his arms.

“I’m never coming back here, just so you know.”

“It’s a trek from here to Garreg Mach.”

Shinon sneered. “What are you gonna do without your only customer to keep you in business?”

The barkeep shrugged. “Who knows. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

“Hmph.” Shinon was unconvinced, but he rocked to one side to pull a purse from his pocket, counted out one coin per drink, and an extra for the broken glass. “Just like a cog in a wheel.”

“That makes two of us.”

Shinon smirked. “From one cog to another, you better start selling something other than lukewarm piss.” He slapped his hand down on the counter hard enough to make the coins jump and then staggered off the stool. “Good night.”

The barkeep chuckled. “Thanks for the advice.” He swept the coin into one palm. “Oh, and good–” He glanced up to see the door swing shut. “--luck.”

[daughter-of-inklings]

The absolute tonal shift from chapter five (5)-

“She said yes!” His yelled startled their mounts, who trotted over to investigate and, upon finding no missing limbs or reason to distress, huffed indignantly and nipped at their hair.  “Sorry- but she said yes!” He smothered her face in kisses, pressing them to every part of her in reach- every freckle, over her eyes, the corners of her lips, the crook of her neck, her bare shoulders- until she was a mess of laughs and out of breath giggles in his arms. He set her down, only to pick her back up into his arms and pull her as close as he possibly could. He wiped the tears from his eyes, hand trembling as he reached for the ring. He held her hand in his, carefully sliding the band onto the ring finger of her right hand. He admired it for far longer than he should have, caressing her fingers with his thumb. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand, then brought it up to his forehead. Closing his eyes, offering a silent prayer in thanks.  “I don’t have anything to give you though,” she frowned, “Nothing to mark you or return the proposal.”  “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” he grinned, tail wagging furiously as he kissed the bridge of her nose. “We’ve the rest of our lives to figure it out.”

very nice and cozy, to chapter six (6)-

For an hour, the priest had worked away with a dagger. Carving away crude lines and chunks, leaving her back raw as the flesh healed itself, over and over again. Until those unsteady hands had managed to hack away their Silvermaiden’s  mark– the moon’s phases displayed from crescent to crescent, sectioned at the middle by the moon in full, outlined by an arrangement of geometric lines and stars between them. She’d felt no sting or pain, only now the familiar dull throb of the skin’s pulse. And the horrible prickling sensation that followed, like a thousand little needles dragging through and across her muscles and skin, knitting and weaving it back together. Pulled taut over the stretch of the mark, just thin enough to not let it bleed. Her fingers twitched, desperate to claw away the itching that lapped at the wound, to break the seam open once more– they found relief digging deeper into her arms instead.  [***]

He need not say the rest for her to know what he was thinking, the scowl on his face was damning enough. The same scowl the knights always bore when they looked at her- a mixture of tolerance and disgust. They would have taken anyone else- any other god. Someone useful. A god who could fight; who could do more than reach out their hand and heal wounds. A god of wisdom, to draft the battles they needed to win their war. The sun’s wrath to devastate everything in their path- unrivaled, unstoppable, always eager to fight. Even a god of seas or wind would be of more use. Sea or wind to turn the tide of battle, to drown their enemies before they crossed swords.  What use, in war, was a god that healed? A god that urged kindness, and mercy? Who abandoned their followers to Death when they were attacked, slaughtered in their own homes? Who watched as their devout were bled on the marble of their temple steps, and raised neither army nor hand to help them? 

reminds me of that scene in Mulan where they're all singing, and the camera pans to the burned village and everything stops.

[proserphinas]

@shiroi---kumo keeps trying to warn.❛ Better get out while you can. ❜

She's using her leg as a brace, but even with every force of concentration, the automail's gears can't force the monster off of her. She can feel its hot breath on her face as it continues to snap its jaws. Weren't the hours spent training with Riza meant to help her in one of these moments? But the rat... if it even could be considered such a thing, was overpowering in every sense of the word. Even her knife is out of reach-

She just needs an opening, a chance to run back to the Comodeen. But this thing is unrelenting, and a part of her knows she won't make it back in one piece, if at all.

That is until she sees him-

"Isoveli!"

White Cloud's attack sends the rodent-like monster scrambling and right back into the underground burrow it emerged from. All Mar can do is watch as she tries to collect her breath. What was with his perfect timing in her life? She should be grateful, but it's all still a bit too much to comprehend.

A hand is offered out to her, and she takes it without hesitation. She rises from the ground, dusting herself off from the caked-on mud and dirt. There's that inevitable questioning as to why she was even out here in the first place. The girl huffs, bending over to grab her knife, "I got tired of sittin' around. I can only explain so many times to Cid how automail works for his research; better off gettin' Ed to make'm the new specimen."

A heavily shaded lie to hide her true intentions, more so, the undercurrents of turmoil laid dormant in her heart. Frustration from the adults' lack of action, fear for the worst to have befallen, and her own heart broken from the idea that two people in her twisted-up family may never come back to them.

She slides the blade back into the holster on her belt. "I'm not goin' back to the Comodeen until at least I can give them all more than 'we don't know, but we can hope.' Hope alone... it's stupid."

If he wanted to accompany her, he was more than welcome, but Mar folded her arms in defiance as if to say, 'You can try to take me back, but I'll kick and scream the entire time.' && more surprisingly, he didn't immediately try to force her into returning to the Comodeen.

Instead, a compromise is made. They will go back by the end of the day, especially since Mar didn't bring enough provisions for two to last more than a day or two. For now, he'll humor her and let her peer under every hidden spot in this forest for the boys.

As they walk along, any attempts of conversation have been pretty surface-level. Questions about this place, and were there any other villages around here...She wants to trust White Cloud with those thoughts from before. And he has been more than willing to listen to her before. So, is it not safe to do so now?

After a brief moment of silence, she begins, "You've always been honest with me, Isoveli." This forest, it was far enough away from the Comodeen. They wouldn't have to worry about peering eyes and ears listening into their words, "Aurora, she's a sugar coater. She lies through her teeth so I don't worry about anything.... and I think she's doing the 'they're okay because they have to be' thing to placate Roy's nerves too."

She swallows, her throat holding a significant amount of tension when she asks, "Do you think Edward 'n Alphonse are... dead?" Even she can feel the weight of that sentence hit her stomach like a stone.

Or is it the ground shaking?

It seems this grim question is left in the air because they're not alone anymore. The ground itself shatters into chunks as they're sent sky-high. The thunder of a few trees slamming against one another. Mar's fall is broken by a few tree limbs, and the eventual final drop to the uneven ground. She risks mechanical failure by allowing her automail to take the full brunt of the drop unless she'd rather have a broken leg on the other side of her body. And so, she chooses the automail.

She's on the ground, groaning from the pain. Fuck, that hurt. She heard a wire snap too. Dammit... Cid is going to have to help her investigate that. Can her toes move? Yes, her knee? Barely but it's there.

Then comes the scent of blood, but it's not too much. A tiny stream of blood is pouring from her nose, and her arm has a small slash in it. Nothing she couldn't handle.

"Isoveli, are you okay?" She asks hoarsely, turning over her body to face where she last saw the Misterican. Instead, she spots what looks like a standoff between Kumo and what seems to be the mother of the rat monster.

He's suggesting that she make a run for it.

Or is it a soft order?

"I can't... Kumo- I can't leave you; I don't know where to go."

Should she mention that her leg really doesn't seem to be fairing? Possibly, but she almost forgets that note. (Given that he's about to be eaten by a huge Rat!) "Stun it, and we can run!"

[keikakudori]

             SOME MIGHT HAVE FOUND IT STRANGE THAT THIS MAN KNEW HOW TO WORK AROUND THE IDEA OF COOKING, but Aizen had never been one to shy away from working with his hands. This was a place that had been crafted through his own touch and he did not think words were important here. Part of him wondered if the blonde's captain knew where he was but he didn't allow himself to linger on those thoughts. No, he simply continued to cut the tuber he had chosen to add to the stew he was making for his consumption. If the younger man chose to linger, then host the traitor would play, without hesitation. He was certainly willing to do so. He had not said anything when the young lieutenant had arrived, had merely looked at him and then silently stepped back, an implicit invitation within the motion.

             The answer he received earned a low sound that might've been a snort of dismissal -- or a hint of a chuckle that rolled around in the depths of his throat with a fluid sway of noise. How that depth of brown lingered upon Izuru with a nearly physical heat and weight before he was resuming his work n the fish. How the silence was allowed to last until he had worked to clean out the internal organs, slipping them into a bowl where they would be turned into bait later on those trot-lines he used to gather fish for his own cooking.

             ❝ Petty, is it? I wonder what it is, then, that you would think that you've done which I would find petty. After all, I'm certainly not one to ever judge what someone else has done with their life. And even more interesting is that statement that you came here to escape pity. ❞

             Ah, was that a hint of what might've been contempt threading through the word like ivy vines, curling and branching around the simple two syllable word? He did not tend to favor pity for another person and seldom had ever displayed it throughout his life. Not even when he had been the one to help bring down Yhwach in a fit of bestial fury and rage when his body had been left twisting into something that was not Shinigami had he felt pity for what he had done to the proposed emperor of the Quincy.

             Instead of lingering on those thoughts, he merely watched beneath the fringe of dark lashes which conveyed a sense of viewing this slim young man through a gauzy curtain as if he sat within a darkened room. He watched him, curiously so, but did not speak yet before he was sliding his knife just behind the head with a firmer thunk of blade to wood and sliding it away before the same treatment was delivered to the tail. A few quick motions to remove the fins and those all joined the bowl before he spoke once more.

             ❝ As I said - it's interesting that you would find yourself driven out here to me of all people to find succor for whatever it is that has you thinking that you might be pitied for. I presume that something occurred back there. ❞ And by there, he meant the Seireitei. It was probably known to all and one by now that he had fled, escaping, in the wake of that fight. He had taken only long enough to look at those that had arrived at the battlefield before he'd taken advantage of a frantic moment of activity to hide behind a veil and thus had he vanished. ❝ Either that, or you're here because of something to do with your captain. ❞

             No, Aizen was no fool. He chose to stay out here on purpose. Out here, he would not be able to harm anyone --- not even when those nightmares took him. Every day, though, he was glad for his Kido and Kyoka Suigetsu's power. Down came the knife, cutting through the fish, dicing it into chunks that went next into that cook pot. Only when he had cleaned both knife and board did he move to sit across from Izuru, studying him.

             ❝ So do you come here for advice or simply because you could think of nowhere else to go? ❞

          The repetitive thunks of a knife's edge touching down on wood lull Izuru into an almost dissociative state; it's soothing when it is the only sound, and he can focus only on counting the beats in the rhythm like a metronome. He doesn't have to tune in to Aizen, who────much to Izuru's own surprise────all but wordlessly welcomed the lieutenant into his hovel (It looks nicer on the inside, he mentally notes), no questions asked, and continued about his business as if Izuru is about as present as a ghost haunting his new home. Who would have thought that he would actually ever feel any semblance of gratitude towards the traitor?

          That chopping stops, and expecting Aizen to finally speak up, Izuru reaches for the closest cup of tea, wrapping his hand────his real hand────around it, but doesn't lift it to his lips. He just wants the warmth in his palm, something to feel. Gradually, that anchor drags him back down to reality. He sighs, and he can imagine bubbles rising from his mouth as he sinks deeper, mindless comfort rolling out with the tide.

          ...Seconds tick by, and it starts to look like Aizen would not speak to Izuru at all there for a moment.

          A few seconds more, and it may seem that, yes, Izuru does insist on staying quiet.

          ❝ You would think it petty, ❞ he says, more at his own reflection in the tea than Aizen, ❝ but that's also why I came here: I don't want to be pitied. ❞

          Gin pities him. His friends pity him. The whole Soul Society, thanks to the article Kurotsuchi-taichō published, pities him. But Aizen? Well, Aizen would likely find some other way to hurt Izuru's pride, but not a reason to waste his breath.

[internalsealpanic]

Trials and Tribulations

summary:  You hold up your hands and wave them in the air as if to clear it. "How about I pick the contest? I am the prize after all," you say sensibly. "What a splendid idea!" Atlas says and Clark almost feels sorry for him. Is Clark the only one who knows you're evil? a/n: Based on a scene in All-Star Superman and is my excuse to give recs. (I need more superman being a complete dork fics. Please and thank you. ) Also I am not 100% sure if I have posted this before but it is for some reason in my drafts. warnings: Silliness and Clark is terrible

You type frantically, the heel of one hand pressed firmly to your lips as you slide down to the ground. This. This isn't happening. Not on what should have been an easy survey day. You take the quietest breath you can.

"Hey soupy, I know you said this line was for emergencies only BUT I think rabid cosplayers and reciting Shakespeare in the park counts as an emergency. But yanno, please feel free to zip on by when you feel like it," you whisper, scooting back into the tree trunk. You hazard a look over your shoulder and wince. 

Maybe, hear me out here, you should call 9-11. 

You begin to type it again and hear another chunk of the mountain get pulverized. 

You look up to the heavens. What are the cops gonna do?

You clutch your phone against your chest. You look over again. Hopefully, Superman gets here.

()

Admittedly, what Clark is doing is mildly irresponsible. Dick would have a field day with the hypocrisy. And yeah, Clark really shouldn't be checking his phone while he's holding a five-ton robot in his hand but it's... hard. It's kind of hard to concentrate when he hears that stupid ringtone you set for yourself on his phone. He regrets letting you 'fix' it and he hates how his heart flutters every time he hears the Mr. Juicy Chewing gum jingle now. 

Gosh, he's such a sap.

He plays the voice mail—mentally, he reminds himself to delete it, lest Bruce finds those again and hangs it over his head. Again. Why is he friends with Bruce?

He listens to the message and his stomach slowly drops to the ground with every word until it crashes to the ground. 

That may just be the giant robot he dropped. 

Clark zips away, filtering through the millions of heartbeats in Metropolis to find yours. He singles it out, breathing easy when it's still beating strong. But your heartbeat is elevated. It's in the rhythm you normally reserve for danger—a situation you're in less frequently in considering who you work for.

()

Huh.

Normally, Clark would be more eloquent than that but right now, he's just stumped. 

Clark had an idea of what you meant by emergency. It was vague but hey, the description rabid cosplayer is very vague given Clark's line of work. Technically, Bruce could be described as a rabid cosplayer if Clark was inclined to be mean. He wasn't. He would never stoop that low. 

Still, when you said emergency, he was expecting Godzilla instead of Samson bench pressing a mountain, Atlas punching a sculpture into existence, and you twitting them both with questions. 

Your sheer disregard for safety astounds him sometimes.

Clark hovers over your shoulder. "I recall you saying this was an emergency."

You jolt, clutching the notepad to your chest. You turn to scowl at him. "Don't you people have manners on Krypton?" You slap the notepad against his chest. Clark pretends to be hurt. Out of politeness, of course. 

"Soupy, these are—"

"Superman!!" Samson booms, carelessly dropping the mountain; the consequent vibrations shake the ground, causing you to lose balance. Clark's got you though so it's all good. 

"Thanks," you whisper with a wry smile. "You're real popular, huh?"

"With my winning personality?" Clark says, setting you down. 

You roll your eyes. "No, it's definitely Ms. Lane's writing. "

He hums, "I think Mr. Kent does fine work too."

You turn your head. "He's fine." It's a shy gesture, something he's seen you do a handful of times.

Atlas and Samson both drop what they're doing to interrupt your perfectly lovely conversation. Atlas pulls you away from Clark, bringing your hand to his lips. Clark has never wanted to sock the blond more. 

"Superman, your century is truly bountiful with beauties," Atlas declares, planting another kiss to your knuckle.

You and Clark exchange looks. 

"Uh thanks," you say, unsuccessfully trying to tug your hand away from Atlas, "now about my question..."

"Beauteous (Y/n), who would you rather spend the day with? Us or Superman?" 

You wince at the nickname, the tone, the words, and everything. You're here to work. Well, you were here to work.

You and Clark exchange another look.

"Could you answer my question about your time-travelling?"

It's clear that you've been asking them nonstop considering how irritated you look. Clark's half tempted to let this play out just to see if you can scare them.

You probably could so he sits back. 

He isn't jealous. He's concerned. That's the right word for the feeling bubbling in his stomach. Clark hasn't had the guts to ask you out on a date yet or even ask about your opinion dating an alien but this, whatever it is, is getting annoying. 

Clark waves at them to get their attention. 

They don't even bat an eye at him until you speak up. "Hey Soupy, can you explain to me how the chronovolt works?" You look at him with the hopeful eyes of someone trying to get out of a conversation. 

"(Y/n), I could easily explain it to you."

Your brow twitches.

Clark has to clear his throat to keep himself from laughing. You scowl at him.

"I propose we perform a contest to see who will be best suited to spend time with (Y/n)," Samson says with a kiss to the back of your hand. 

You recoil politely. "How about you just answer my questions?"

They have also stopped listening to you and have started bickering on what kind of contest would impress you the most. You deflate. You look at him to see if he'll punch them away. Clark shrugs at you innocently with a look that says 'that would be impolite.' 

You blow out a breath and pout at him.

You hold up your hands and wave them in the air as if to clear it. "How about I pick the contest? I am the prize after all," you say sensibly. 

"What a splendid idea!" Atlas says and Clark almost feels sorry for him. 

Is Clark the only one who knows you're evil?

You smile, cat-like, and Clark takes half a step back. You flap your hand at him as if to say he was being dramatic. He wasn't.

Hand on your hip, index finger wagging, you announce: "Since you're time travelers, I'll be asking trivia."

Samson and Atlas look smug. 

You point a thumb to Clark. "He'll be keeping score." Clark's brows knit. He was pretty sure you were gonna throw him in with them. He was hoping. 

"The one who wins the most points gets to spend the day with me BUT if you both get zilch, you both amscray without a fuss, capisce? "

They look smug.

"In the movie State Fair, how much did the male lead bid to win a date with Ms. Wayne?"

"$10?" Samson tries. 

"Fool, it was clearly $50,000," says Atlas smug. 

Clark raises a brow. Even he knew this one. Ok, that is unfair since you basically pinned him down for a movie night to get his alien opinions on it. At least, that's what you said. 

You shake your head. You turn to Clark, expecting him to recite the answer.

"2.5 million."

"Correct, Mr. Man. Well gents you have 3 questions left. Good luck."

Clark figured this would happen. He really shouldn't have been worried. 

"In the 20th issue of the comic series Cirque de Triomphe, what does Ultraman name his new feline companion?" 

"Fluffy?"

You make a noise like a buzzer. 

"Danger?"

You snort softly but repeat the buzzing noise. 

"Matches?"

You flicker a smile at Clark. His stomach does a somersault.  "Close. The answer is Matchbox. Two more to go, gentlemen."

"In the Holiday Special for Hard Truths and Other Realities series, what profession did the main character settle on?"

Silence. 

Clark drifts around, floating cross-legged as he watches their minds work. 

They each give hilariously wrong answers. Clark mutters 'police man' and you reward him with another stomach flipping smile. He sincerely wishes you'd let him join. 

"Ok, ok, last one. Which gangs was Red Hood fighting in the movie Red Cape, Red Hood?"

"Penguin and Riddler's men!" Atlas says. 

Buzzer noise. Clark feels relieved. 

"False Facers!" Samson says proudly. 

Clark's heart stops. 

You angle your chin. "And?"

"And—And—And the Riddler's men!"

You grin. "Nope. It was the Black Mask and the Penguin's men. Sorry gents, it looks like you got zilch."

Both slump and Clark straightens up a little proud of your diabolical mind. 

"I thought you'd be over the moon with time travelers hitting on you," Clark teases, placing a large boulder on the pile. Atlas really did make a mess and he didn't even finish the carving of you. 

You jut your lip at him, dropping a rock onto the pile and pointedly ignoring the statue. You just shrug. "To be honest, it was uncomfortable," you say, rubbing the back of your neck. "Besides, they weren't my speed, yanno?" You just shrug again as if to try to shake off the rest of the uneasiness. 

Clark arches a brow, drifting down next to you. "What is your speed?"

You jam your hands into your pockets and angle your head to show off a crooked smile. "What? You planning to set me up with one of your superfriends?"

"I can't work miracles but I'll try," says Clark returning the expression. 

You hum, walking a few steps ahead of him. "Set me up with my neighbor then. You know, the reporter guy," you say, looking back at him over your shoulder. 

Clark's entire world stutters to a stop. 

Your shoulders shake with laughter when you turn back to look at him but Clark is still to stunned to give an intelligent response. 

"Don't give me that look—Clark's cute, funny, nice—Ok, he's actually kinda mean when he wants to be but the funny kinda mean, yanno?" you say in one quick breath. The tips of your fingers press together sheepishly. You snap your head back up to look at him. "Wait, shit. Soupy, please don't tell him any of this." You walk up to him and tug on his sleeve. "Please."

Clark looks down at you dumbly. 

"Are you even listening?"

Clark shakes away the dizziness. He still feels fuzzy when he answers, "Sorry, thinking." His cheeks are flushed but you don't seem to register that over your own embarrassment. 

"Well, I guess you can't rat if you didn't hear, huh?" Your hands drop as a look of relief flickers across your features.

Clark grins—evil enough to give Lex a run for his money. "Oh, you mean the thing about your cute neighbor." He watches your face explode with heat and your heart rate skyrocket. 

"No!" You bury your face in your hands. "Shut up." 

"Don't worry (Y/n), I can arrange something," Clark says, patting your shoulder.

You peek up at him with big with wide, hopeful eyes then you squint. "You're gonna tell him I'm a weirdo."

Clark makes a face of mock hurt. "I would never."

"I know you," you say, poking his chest.

You will, Clark thinks. ()

You're stuck to your couch, rewatching Make an Ass Out of U and Me, when your doorbell rings. 

"Soupy, just use the—Oh god, Clark! I—" You shuffle yourself behind your door, trying to hide your oversized Superman sucks Wayne Corp shirt.  You wave meekly. "Anything I can do for you?"

Translation: "Anything I can do to make you go away?" Clark thinks.

Clark rubs the back of his neck and lifts up the bouquet of your favorite flowers. "Any chance you'd like to go out for some coffee?" Clark asks with a sheepish smile. 

Illegal. No. The universe does not get to plop a large man acting shy on your front door and get away with it. No. That's just fucking evil. 

You look up at him brows scrunched together. "Any chance a 6' 5" Alien said anything?"

Clark blinks at you and that was as good as a confirmation. 

"I'm gonna kick his ass," you mutter quietly, drooping against the door. 

Clark bites his lip. He has no doubt you could do it. "Well, he owed me a favor and... I'm pretty thankful he told me you were interested," he says, shuffling his feet. 

The way your eyes light up makes his heart stop. Before Clark can admire it more, you look down. "Remind me to thank him."

"I'll pass it on. Coffee?"

You grin at him. "Sure, lemme get changed."

"Probably not a good idea to slander your wingman."

You snort softly and the sound makes Clark feel light. 

He is a sap.

[saurexhas]

Love is Blind - Part 1

So I’ve been hanging out with @studionovella​ and the team for @nightmare-castle​, and the sheer talent in their discord server is so amazing. It led me to be inspired, and while I’m typically more of a Sanscest writer, I figured that it’d be fun to try something new considering the source of my inspiration! So have some Nightmare x MC (Nightmare x Reader).

Be warned, this story handles blindness and... probably some other sensitive topics considering it’s me. So just watch the tags for any relevant triggers!

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You didn’t think that it was possible, but somehow you had fallen for Nightmare. On the surface he was cold, cruel, and calculating, using everyone he could to advance his goals. But if you could tolerate the coldness, get past his clinical treatment of those he believed were beneath him, then there was so much more to him. Nightmare was a scholar, a brilliant mind with a vision for a world all his own. He appreciated the arts, often enjoying his downtime with a good book and a calming cup of tea. And believe it or not, there was a small part of him that genuinely cared for the skeletons under his charge. You’ve seen that side of him more than most, managing to open even his eye to what was hidden beneath the centuries of anger and hatred.

Even if negativity was still a large part of who he was, you found yourself able to accept that darkness, because it only made the small lights within him shine brighter. Just like the stars the two of you were gazing at. Though as your gaze shifted to the skeleton currently dominating your thoughts, you found that piercing cyan eye of his locked onto you instead of the sky. If there was ever any doubt in your mind that your feelings were reciprocated, one look at his gaze would sweep it all away. There was a tenderness to him, reserved only for you as he would say. It was only in these moments where the two of you were alone that he would let his imposing demeanor slide.

Getting moments to yourselves was easier said than done though. Despite the sheer size of the castle, the others always seemed to be around. They knew how Nightmare favoured you, how he treated you special and wasn’t as harsh. You were pretty sure that they’d managed to piece everything together on their own, even if none of them ever said anything for fear of angering their king. That said, some of them, namely Killer, seemed to delight in getting in the way of your fleeting moments alone. And there was always no shortage of work to be done, not when your partner was as ambitious as he was. Nightmare aimed to create an empire, and you were doing what you could to further his goals. Even if all that work and Killer’s interference left you and Nightmare fleeing to other worlds in order to have some semblance of a relationship.

Outertale was a favourite destination of yours, the beauty of the cosmos always taking your breath away. It always seemed so far removed from the chaos of the multiverse, or the chaos of the castle.The peace and quiet out here made it perfect for when both you and your partner just needed a break. You could stand out here for hours, watching the subtle shifts in the sky or mapping constellations.

But for now, you were seemingly locked in a staring contest with the lord of darkness, neither willing to look away or break the silence that had fallen. Unsure of what to do, you simply reached out with your finger and booped the tip of his nose. The look of utter surprise on his face left you giggling, only for his own rich laughter to mingle with yours.

“You dare to lay a hand on the God of Negativity, hmm?” He teased, pulling you close with his tentacles before wrapping his arms around your waist. “You are either very brave or very foolish… maybe a bit of both. How shall I deal with your crime, my little moon?”

You couldn’t help but swoon a bit at the pet name he called you, grinning up at him like a fool as you took advantage of the close proximity to snuggle close. “I could swear my love to you, would that appease the great Nightmare?”

“Perhaps,” he chuckled, the distance closing between the two of you even further as he ducked his head down to be level with your own. Nightmare opened his mouth, perhaps to say something else or to move in for the kiss you were anticipating. Before either option could happen though, the dark skeleton froze for a split second. There wasn’t even time to ask what was wrong before you found yourself hefted into his arms, the two of you dodging a volley of bright blue arrows that had speared where you’d been moments ago.

Your heart hammered in your throat, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you tried to get a grip on what was happening. Nightmare still had you cradled to his chest, dodging arrows and… was that paint? Following the paint’s trajectory, you could see your partner’s enemies had managed to crash your little date.

The Star Sanses stood on the other end of the floating chunk of rock you were on, the portal they’d used to arrive closing behind them. Blue was just coming through the portal, his gaster blaster hammer in his grip. Dream had another arrow ready to fire, though he hesitated upon seeing you staring back at him. Ink on the other hand wasted no time in splattering more of his paints everywhere, a tentacle raising to block you from the oncoming attack. The paint hissed and fizzled on contact, a growl leaving Nightmare as he jumped to another nearby rock to escape the barrage.

“Night, are you okay?!” You look up to see him trying to hide his pain, showing you that those paints are far more than something to be smeared on a piece of paper. While you’d heard stories from the others about the chaotic creator, you’d never met him in person or seen him fight. Seeing that paint flying towards you was way scarier than the guys’ stories had led you to believe.

“I’ll be fine,” Nightmare insisted as he set you down, even if you knew that attack hurt. “Look, you need to remain here where you’ll be safe. I don’t care what kind of training you’ve been partaking in with the others; I refuse to let you endanger yourself by fighting them. Ink especially is dangerous, keep away from him at all costs. If you cannot dodge his attacks, make sure to shield your face. His paint can burn like acid if he wishes, and while liquid negativity protects my body, you have no such defenses. Give me your word that you will remain safe while I deal with these pests.”

As much as you wanted to argue that you could help, even you couldn’t muster the confidence to speak against him with such a stern glare directed at you. It was clear that Nightmare wouldn’t take no for an answer on this one, so you had no choice but to nod your head meekly. “I-I’ll stay here,” you promised, glancing up to see him seemingly satisfied. Without another word, he rushed off, preventing Blue from getting any closer with his large hammer.

Watching Nightmare take on all three of the Star Sanses by himself was both awe-inspiring and terrifying, much like the first times you’d joined sparring sessions with the guys. But there wasn’t the assurance in the back of your mind that nobody would be out to kill you. While it might not be the goals of all of the Stars, there was very much mortal danger in this fight for both you and the one you loved. Staying on the sidelines like this was painful, leaving you feeling useless as Nightmare struggled to hold off the onslaught.

Were they not essentially your enemies, you’d be impressed by the coordination and teamwork the Stars possessed. All three of them were capable of both melee and ranged attacks, and wordlessly organized themselves so that one of their own was never in danger of being hit by their own attacks. Dream’s precision with his arrows allowed him to stay primarily a ranged fighter, while Blue’s blasters and Ink’s attacks were a bit too widespread to risk while one of them fought in close combat. Nightmare was the only one without a specific ranged attack, which probably explained why the others rarely got close to attack. Your lover’s tentacles gave him reach though, and the ability to hit multiple targets at once, so he was somehow able to hold his own against all three.

The battle looked to be a stalemate… until one of the Stars suddenly switched tactics. While Blue rushed in with a hammer and bones at his side, Ink actually turned his back on the fight. He seemed a little lost, like he was trying to remember something, only for his eyes to light up as he locked gazes with you. Instant panic seized you as the one skeleton that Nightmare warned you about came straight for you, manic glee plastered over his face as he quickly crossed the distance between the two of you. A glance back at the battle proved that Nightmare had seen what was going on, but Blue was keeping him from coming to your aid. So it was up to you to think fast and avoid the creator, hope bubbling in you that this might actually make things easier. If you could keep Ink busy by dodging his attacks, then Nightmare might be able to take on the remaining two with better success before coming after Ink.

With this admittedly crazy plan in your head, you began a game of cat and mouse with Ink, jumping from one place to the next. If you didn’t have a splash-happy maniac chasing you, it would’ve been cool to enjoy the low gravity of Outertale. For now though, it was all that was allowing you to escape most of the attacks directed at you. You were far from unscathed though, small splashes of paint eating away at your arms and legs. It burned, but was nothing you couldn’t deal with as you continued to dodge and weave the bulk of the attacks. So long as none of it touched your face, you would be fine.

Glancing back at the main battle going on, your hopes of Nightmare doing better against two targets instead of three were steadily being crushed. He seemed distracted, constantly looking up to watch you kite Ink around the area. Instead of focusing on the two he had to deal with, he was so worried about you and Ink that he was now losing. It wouldn’t be so bad if he was facing off against Ink and Blue, because there was little the two could do beyond superficial damage. Dream on the other hand was still very much a threat, his arrows of pure positivity being about the only thing that could seriously hurt. And you could see several piercing the ground, coated in the black negativity that Nightmare relied on for protection. It was a surefire way to see when he’d been hit, and the staggering amount of these soiled arrows made it clear that your partner wasn’t holding his own anymore. Guilt welled up in you, because you were the reason he was now losing this fight. While there wasn’t much you could honestly do to shake Ink from your trail, reason did little to quell the negativity rising inside you. All you could hope for was that your own despair could give Nightmare just a bit more power, enough to keep himself safe at least.

As time dragged on, both you and Nightmare were running out of stamina. Your legs cried for rest as you continued to run away from the creator, while your lover’s movements were growing noticeably sluggish. More arrows seemed to connect than not at this point, and he had barely any time to recover from one attack before dealing with another. The two of you were badly losing, and it was quite clear now why Nightmare rarely let anyone from the castle venture out on their own.

The Stars seemed to sense this sudden weakness in their target, Dream finally stopping his barrage to call out to the one going after you. “Ink! Stop playing around, I need your help!” Help? What help could Ink possibly be? Even his corrosive paints couldn’t breach the surface of Nightmare’s negativity, the only thing that could was Dream’s… oh… oh no.

As the realization hit you, Ink finally gave up his pursuit. “Woo! Looks like my plan actually worked… at least I think this was my plan. Whatever, let’s do this!” Laughing at some untold joke, Ink hopped away from you to return to the large rock that most of the battle had been on. At the same moment though, you felt your legs moving as the horrific reality of their plan hit you. Ink purposefully went after you to distract Nightmare, allowing the others to weaken him enough so that their special attack would hit. The creator might not be able to damage the surface, but if Dream’s arrow ripped through first, then there’d be a narrow window where Nightmare’s greatest defense would be gone. In a single spot he’d be vulnerable, which is why they needed to slow him down enough to ensure their hit would work.

You weren’t going to let that happen. Promise be damned, your soul was screaming at you to protect the one you loved, and you were going to heed its call. The ache in your legs went completely ignored, adrenaline pushing you forward with more speed than you thought you could muster. You needed to be faster though; Ink was already there, and Blue had set about corralling Nightmare to keep him still.

Only a few floating chunks of rock were between you and your beloved now, but you still weren’t fast enough. Panic rose once again as you watched Dream draw back his bowstring, the arrow glimmering faintly in the surrounding darkness. Ink stood ready beside him, the paint coating his brush a dangerous shade of red. That same paint had left such horrible burns along your limbs, and you could only imagine the damage it might do to the weakened god of negativity. With Blue running interference and drawing Nightmare’s attention, it was only a matter of time now.

As your feet touched down on the large space rock, several feet from everyone else, you knew that you were out of time. Nightmare was too absorbed in his fight to hear your warning calls, and it would only alert the two and likely cause them to reset before trying again. This attack would only work once though, because once Nightmare knew of their plan, he wouldn’t let it work a second time. That meant that you had one chance to stop them, especially when you saw that Dream was aiming towards his twin’s soul.

Courage and determination welled within your soul, driving you forward despite the risk you were running straight into. Any number of things could go seriously wrong, but… you couldn’t risk them killing him. Nightmare was the bane of the multiverse to many, but he was everything to you. Gritting your teeth, you timed your steps so that you’d only enter Dream’s field of vision after he fired, preventing them from stopping you and trying again. The second he saw you, the god of positivity’s expression changed from one of grim determination to one of shock and horror, his hand reaching out as if he could stop his attack or stop you. His hesitance once again wasn’t present in Ink, the creator wasting no time in flinging the red paint directly after the arrow.

With mere seconds to spare, your outstretched hands made contact with the cool goop that covered Nightmare’s body. All of your momentum and might went into a push, knocking the deity away from the incoming attack. Your lover turned back to look at you the second you made contact, his eye conveying the same shock and horror as Dream’s had when he saw you. All you could do was smile, knowing that you’d managed to save him no matter what danger you’d put yourself in. Nightmare reached out for you just as the arrow whizzed past, its trajectory leaving it slicing past your eyes. Pain bloomed as the minor cuts scratched the outsides of your eyes, but it was nothing compared to what came next. You’d been so concerned about the arrow that you temporarily forgot about Ink. His attack followed as per the Stars’ plan, splattering over the both of you with its acidic effect. The scratches to your eyes had left you temporarily blind, so you weren’t able to see that red paint as it splashed all over your face. The last thing you saw was instead Nightmare, reaching out to you as if to save you from this pain.

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[whatanybodygets]

I just HAVE TO ask you abouit "darling, i’ll keep coming home to you" because this title is too lovely

Ah, now this one I truly don't know if it will ever see the light of day. I wrote it forever ago, it was my side project while I was working on a tall ship. I have about 19k words, though a few of those words were cannibalized and ended up in roomy. It's my 'Kaz and Inej get married fic', it's the ol' 'religious wedding in Ravka and legal ceremony in Kerch' chestnut that's been done a million times before, and better. I am very fond of it, but I don't know if I will ever finish it.

Here, have a big chunk of it:

The news finds her in Os Kervo.

Inej will later learn that more than twenty such missives have been dispatched to ports around the world, all bearing the same message: come home, Wraith.

She doesn't want to think of the circumstances that could have led to such a desperate and unsubtle summons back to Ketterdam, decidedly does not envision all the worst case scenarios running through her mind during the days it takes to make the sail from Ravka with hired-on Squallers for speed.

Jesper is standing on the deserted quayside as they make berth in Fifth Harbour. It's close to midnight, and she can only imagine that runners have been waiting night and day to alert him to the first sight of her ship.

Inej slides down a rope onto the dock before the ship is even tied off, abandoning her crew to see to the rest. Jesper is grim, every part of him rigid with tension, and her heart skips in her chest, any tiny spark of hope guttering at the expression on his face.

"What's happened?" she manages to choke the words out, breathless with anxiety.

Jesper's eyes dart around them. Though the quay looks empty, Inej knows as well as anyone that spiders lurk everywhere in Ketterdam.

"Not here," he says.

He doesn't speak again as he leads her through familiar streets, striding so quickly on his long legs that Inej must almost jog to keep up with him. She wants to pepper him with questions, demand to know why she has been summoned, beat her fists against him and hold a knife to his throat until he answers. Instead, she bites her tongue so hard she tastes blood.

Only when they are safely inside the Van Eck mansion does she turn on him.

"Explain," she says, voice dripping with danger. "Now."

Jesper's stoic demeanour crumbles as he looks at her and says the words she's been dreading, and expecting. "It's Kaz."

[c-e-d-dreamer]

This is so long and so angsty, and I am so sorry! Also, I took the “Music” prompt a bit loosely and based this off music lyrics? Hope that counts. Song is I Do by Wild Rivers :) @nessianweek

My sweater on your bedroom floor, you can take that // You don’t want my love no more, honey I can shake that

Cassian swallows down a sigh as he opens up the trash bag in his hands. The crinkle of it as he shakes it out is especially loud in the quiet of his bedroom, like a crack of thunder ringing in his ears. Leave it to Mor to demand that he “spring clean” and “finally get rid of that shit you hoard” only to bustle out of his apartment without even an offer to help. 

The living room had been an easy place to start. The photos had been one of the first things he had removed post-breakup, so there wasn’t much left out there anyways. But his bedroom. Well, he isn’t sure the last time he'd really gone through his closet. 

He opens the doors to find various clothing and items strewn about haphazardly. Some are on hangers, some are stuffed onto the shelf above, and a good chunk litter the floor. He tries to organize as he goes, pulling out and sorting through the different items to decide which to keep and which to donate. He’s sifting through the pile on the floor when his hand brushes against something soft and somehow familiar. With a tug, he comes face to face with a small cream colored sweater. The sight of it has him falling back onto his ass, his breath hitching as he runs his thumb along the cable knit pattern. 

If he closes his eyes, he can see them here, see her in this very sweater. He can feel the sweater under his palms as he slides his hands over her waist, feel the delicious warmth of her skin as slips his fingers under the hem. He can hear her laughter in his ear, like a favorite song he wants to bottle up and play on loop, as he presses kisses to her neck and behind her ear. 

Cassian digs the palms of his hands into his eyes like he can scrub the image from behind them, but all it does it make his chest ache. Like a damn full of splintering cracks, barely held together with tape. He can feel that familiar thickness clawing its way into his throat, and he can’t take it. He tosses the sweater into the trash bag and heads for the kitchen, desperate for a beer. 

I come, you go, back around back around // I see your ghost on a train downtown

Downtown is a mess as always. All Nesta can think about is a glass of wine, the chocolate cake in her fridge that she picked up from Trader Joe’s, and the next chapter of her book waiting for her on her nightstand. But instead, she’s weaving her way through busybodies and tourists who don’t know how to stand on the right and walk on the left. 

Once she gets through the crowds, she walks with practiced ease to the platform she needs, scrolling aimlessly through the array of texts from her sisters and friends from earlier today. She sends off a quick reply to Gwyn and Emerie before sliding her phone back into her bag. She turns to look at the board above the platform to check the wait time of the next train when her eyes catch on something else. Someone else. 

The sight of broad shoulders and a tangle of curls corralled into a top bun has Nesta’s heart stuttering to a painful stop and clenching hard deep between her ribs. She can already feel that all too familiar prick pressing in behind her eyes, threatening release. She can practically hear his laughter from here, loud and booming and so full of life, as he throws his head back.  

All it takes is one thought to send her spiraling back. Back to a calloused hand sliding against her own, fingers curled firmly around hers. Warm. Safe. It takes her back to a nose brushing against her hair at her temple, that laughter in her ear, a promise that screaming at passing trains is the best form of therapy. 

Nesta has to turn away and press a hand over her mouth to keep in the choked sound trying to spill forth. When she looks back down the platform, he’s gone, and all Nesta feels is the hollowness pressing in on all sides. 

It’s just a baseball cap, I ain’t even missing // And a Springsteen track, I don’t listen 

Cassian’s late. He knows it. Azriel is going to kill him if he’s not out the door soon. He does another quick check around his room, pulling out drawers in his dresser and even checking under his bed. And then it hits him, a flash behind his eyes harder than a slap across the face. 

It’s the hat being placed on a head of golden brown waves. It’s a soft press of lips against his own and lithe arms winding around his neck. It’s a mumble of “it looks better on me anyways” and clear eyes piercing into his own, deep and smokey blue and glinting like the roiling ocean under a setting sun. 

Cassian has to clench and unclench his fists a few times to get his head right, but then he’s pulling open his closet doors and digging out a different hat to throw over his mess of hair. He snags his keys and sails out the door to his car. When he turns the key in the ignition, the radio hums to life, the familiar lyrics of Springsteen flooding out of the speakers. Cassian almost wants to laugh at his luck. It would be this song. 

Even with Springsteen’s vocals blaring, all Cassian can hear is his own voice singing along, purposefully off-key, her laughter-filled pleas for him to stop as she reaches across and tries to stifle the sounds with her hand over his mouth. With a hard jam of his finger, the radio cuts out. Cassian takes a deep breath, throws the car in reverse, and drives in silence the rest of the way. 

It's just an old habit, I don't gotta kick // Or your best friends' pictures, I don't check 'em

The pile of blankets atop Nesta is the only armor she needs. She curls her body and burrows deeper into them as she opens Instagram on her phone, the small rectangle the only light in her otherwise dark bedroom. She takes a few moments to scroll through the posts on her feed and click through some Stories, but there’s no beating around the bush. She knows why she’s here. 

Her finger hesitates for only a moment over the search button at the bottom of her screen, but then she’s selecting it. It only takes her typing in the “A” before the page comes up, and Nesta refuses to let the shame threatening to heat her skin win at what that means. She clicks on the first picture, taking in the wide smiles, the arms slung casually over shoulders. Nesta bites her lip so hard, that tangy metallic taste floods her tongue. 

She shuts her phone off abruptly, tossing it onto her nightstand before rolling over. She curls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms tightly around herself, focusing on the phantom feel of different arms holding her close and warm breath ghosting across her shoulder. If she closes her eyes tight enough, she can feel the press against her back with each breath he took, feel the words “I love you” whispered against her spine. 

Now I'm driving by the place we met // Could you go there?

Cassian’s so distracted, he doesn’t even realize he missed the turn for his apartment. He’s not even fully sure where he’s going until the familiarity starts to sink in. It’s too easy to pull up alongside and throw his car into park. At this hour, it’s all dark through the large windows, but there’s no mistaking the small wooden tables with the chairs stacked atop them. The register and the glass display case. The chalkboard declaring the seasonal drink specials in bright colors and swirling writing. 

Cassian can still taste the sweetness of her drink against his tongue. Can still see her pointedly raised eyebrow and unimpressed frown like it’s branded at the molecular level of his brain. Those eyes cutting through him from the minute they locked with his own. That lilting voice of hers still ringing in his ears and asking him what he thought he was doing with her drink.  

Cassian grips the steering wheel of his car until his knuckles turn white, letting his head drop until his forehead meets the leather. He takes a few deep breaths, then he’s throwing the car back into drive, letting the coffeeshop fade away in the rearview mirror. 

Now you wanna talk? // Babe I don't care

“Nesta.”

It’s a simple sound. Just her name. But in that soft timbre, in that voice that Nesta’s heard rumble through his chest, it makes her blood freeze over. She knew she never should have agreed to come to this garden party. As soon as the text came through from Feyre, she should have declined. But that voice in the back of her mind, it had niggled, it had gnawed, it had climbed to the forefront, and now she’s standing in Feyre’s backyard, a cup of some sort of punch clutched between her hands and Cassian approaching her.  

“You look good,” he says once in front of her. 

Nesta is sure that has to be a lie. All she feels is weighed down, like every second of every day is spent trudging through thick mud. Concealer can work wonders, but it’s no miracle worker. And with him standing this close, close enough for Nesta to feel the warmth that always seemed to radiate off his frame, to smell that combination of fabric softener, cologne, and just him. All she can think about is the air stuttering through her lungs. 

At her silence, Cassian clears his throat awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “So, how have you been?” 

It’s casual, and Cassian throws an easy grin her way as he says it. Nesta hates it. She hates the way that he does look good. Hates the happy ease he didn’t even have to try to muster or pretend when he arrived, hugging and laughing with their families. Hates that she can tell the laughter lines around his eyes have gotten deeper. 

“No,” Nesta says, turning on her heel abruptly and heading back toward the house. 

She hears Cassian call after her, but she doesn’t stop. She’s surprised the whole backyard doesn’t hear the crack resounding from her chest, leaving shards of glass embedded deep in the skin. 

I see you out in a bar downtown, but you look so different like you don't go thinking, but I do

Cassian watches the ice cubes bubble and clink in his glass of whiskey. He gives the glass another swirl before throwing the amber liquid back, reveling in the burn against his throat. He tosses a couple bills onto the bar-top and slides off the stool with a sigh. He turns toward the exit but his eyes catch on the other end of the bar. 

Nesta is there, and Cassian’s entire body feels like it’s been set on fire as he takes her in, the gentle waves tumbling over her shoulders, the small black dress clinging to her every curve. He recognizes Gwyn and Emerie standing with her. He sees her laugh at something one of them says. Over the music and the crowds of the bar, he can't hear it, but it still rips through his chest like an arrow. Before he can even make a conscious decision, his legs are carrying him toward her, always toward her, like a ship brought home to safety by a lighthouse. 

“Nesta,” Cassian says once he steps up behind her. 

She turns and looks up at him, and his breath hitches in his chest all over again. His fingers itch to brush the hair away from her face, tuck it behind her ear and run the pads of his fingers through the ends. Her eyes are guarded and it makes his gut twist, urging him to press his lips against her skin until that look melts away like it used to. Maybe if he’d had another glass of whiskey he’d be feeling more brave. But the alcohol thrumming in his veins gives him enough courage to ask the question that’s been burning a hole through his head and heart. 

“Do you ever think about us?” he asks, voice quiet and just for them. 

A silence settles between them, but it’s charged, like even in this crowded downtown bar, everyone is holding their breath, waiting with baited anticipation. As the seconds tick by, Cassian begins to wonder if she’ll even answer, if he’s made a mistake, but then her hand is reaching up, smoothing a stray lock of hair away from his eyes. 

“I do.”

[lenaariewrld]

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KUROO — 8. a strange feeling

You wake up when you feel an unexpected weight suddenly placed on your chest, a gentle rumbling echoing through your ribcage. Your eyes peek open to see your cat, a shark hat strapped under her chin. “Bimmie!” You coo sleepily, your arms cradling the cat and rubbing her spine. She arches her butt against your palms.

“Good morning. Time to get up,” Kuroo stands at the foot of your bed, fully dressed and staring at you over a mug of coffee. You turn your attention away from your cat to glare at him.

“What time is it?”

“Seven,”

“Fuck that,” You turn back to loving on your cat, scratching her ears and chin and rubbing the sides of her fluffy body. She purrs and coos from all the wonderful attention, kneading her paws into you particularly hard when she enjoys the rubs you give her. A gentle laugh leaves you when she finally decides she has had enough and she saunters her way to the space on your bed not occupied by humans, curling up and tucking her paws beneath herself.

Kuroo is still standing by your bed and waiting for you to get up. You sigh and sit up, frowning deeply. “Why am I getting up so early for?” You ask, “It better be for those good pancakes, or else I will kill you,” You threaten softly.

The man chuckles, watching you get up sluggishly. His amusement continues as you drag yourself around the room to gather your proper materials for waking up and being a functioning member of society. Because mornings do not make you look like a functional member of society.

He seats himself in your chair while you leave to head to your bathroom.

“We need to go grocery shopping... I got the others to make lists of things they wanted or needed, what meals we could make, and all that. I just need someone to keep track of the list,” He informs you, spinning the chair to look around your room.

The walls are decorated with posters of your favorite characters from anime and tv shows you like, shelves stacked with manga or figurines from games you’ve adored. Your desk is a neat mess of gaming things and just cute knick-knacks that make it look more you. Kuroo finds himself smiling at it all.

The bathroom door opens sometime later and he turns his head to hear you if you should speak. “Okay, I’m assuming this is your roundabout way of telling me if I go, you’ll buy me snacks?” You pose the question, rubbing a towel over your head to dry your hair.

Kuroo hums.

“You got a deal,” He finally declares, a cheeky smile flashing in your direction. You sarcastically smile back, heading to your closet and grabbing clothes to change into. Kuroo once again takes the time to look around your room.

You don’t go through your entire morning routine this time, deciding to save the man the trouble and put it off until you feel more energized to actually have thoughts. Instead, you just settle for a good shower and clean clothes. Kuroo waits patiently for you the entire time, standing up and holding out his mug for you. To your surprise, it’s not his coffee but yours, made exactly how you like it.

A funny warmth spreads in your chest, and you haven’t even drank the coffee yet.

“Thank you,” You hum, following him downstairs and towards the front door, nursing your mug the whole way. It’s not piping hot so drinking larger gulps is much easier.

You make a quick stop in the kitchen to transfer your coffee to a more portable cup before heading outside. Kuroo is waiting for you once again, a patient smile on his face.

The whole drive he plays soft music, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. You notice he only moves his pointer finger or pinkie to drum.

“Okay,” You brace yourself in your seat, wiggling your body as much as you can to face Kuroo more. “What is the plan this time, chief?” You raise your brow and slide your cup into the cup holder that separates the driver and passenger seat.

“I’ve already organized the shopping list into different categories so we can just go from aisle to aisle and get it all rather than jumping throughout the whole store,” Kuroo says, “It’s on my phone,” He adds before you can question where this oh-so-meticulously put-together list is. Instead, you nod. Kuroo smiles and hands you the device from his sweatpants pocket.

“Add your snacks,”

The rest of the drive is short and helps wake you up completely. By the time Kuroo parks and you climb out, you have the energy to ransack a whole 7-11. Hypothetically.

Kuroo leads you inside, letting you push the cart and being, for once, responsible about the shopping while you trail behind with a small smile. He tells you all the tips for making sure vegetables are ripe or fruits are the kind of look and taste you might want, how to get the best quality of items without overpaying, and what to look for when buying fresh meat.

Admittedly, you are indulging him. You know a good portion of the tips (let’s be honest, who doesn’t know how to make sure an apple or a tomato is good?). However, his happiness to tell you and his earnest helpfulness are refreshing.

“Do you eat salads?” You question as he turns the third variety of lettuce in his hand, inspecting it for bug bites and dirt. “Because that’s the only thing I can think of why you need multiple kinds of lettuces,” You add when he looks at you. Kuroo pouts.

“Don’t be mean,” He huffs. You giggle.

“Then put down the lettuce. Stick to the list. And I don’t see three types of lettuces on here,”

Kuroo sets down the lettuce and turns to you, lightly keeping his hand on the cart. He leans close to you as if preparing to share a secret. “What if I just wanted us all to be healthier?” He says, adding a ‘hmm’ at the end as if he owned you with his sick hypothetical logic. You bump his shoulder and keep pushing the cart past all the leafy vegetables.

“As if you care,”

Kuroo dramatically slaps his hand over his chest. “I am wounded, muffin,” He leans over the cart to lay against your back, laughing as you try to shove him off. However, he was an athlete in high school and still kind of works out thanks to Bokuto being his roommate. You, who has never even looked at an exercise machine, are not as strong as him, and struggle to move him.

“You’re wounding me now!” You shove his bicep, earning a laugh from him. He only drapes his arms around your shoulders, relaxing his body against you further without actually hurting you.

A few other shoppers in the store look at you two. It’s mainly older women, and they simply smile at the two of you and shuffle past without saying anything.

How cute they are, they must think, so happy.

You finally manage to get Kuroo off of you and continue the shopping trip, now with a lot fewer distractions. You make Kuroo keep one hand on the cart as a precaution, reading off items he needs to grab. He doesn’t pout or complain, simply nodding along and going with what you say.

“I know this song,” You comment as you push the cart farther into an aisle. You strain your ears to hear the music faintly playing over the store’s speakers, a smile spreading on your lips as you recognize the tune you had listened to on repeat before. “It’s one of my favorites,”

“Really?” Kuroo carefully grabs a jar of jam and sets it in the car basket. You hum and nod. He smiles back and crosses his arms as he leans on the side of the cart, watching your face. “Why did you like it?”

You stop pushing the cart to check the list. “Why wouldn’t I? It was a great dancing song,” You shrug and cross off the items the both of you already set in the cart. A good chunk of the list had been cleared, and you smile at how much you’ve already completed of this trip. You turn off the phone and hold it out for the man, letting him take it back.

“Show me?” Kuroo asks, holding out his hand. You let out a small laugh. Dancing in the middle of a store aisle sounds like something from a romantic book or movie. Gently, you take his hand and step closer to him. The shopping was temporarily forgotten.

You start leading him in a simple dance, stumbling through the motions as you try to hear the music over the other noises of the store. Kuroo chuckles and follows your lead, holding both your hands and twisting around the small space. A laugh bubbles in your throat and he twirls you, his hand coming around your waist to pull you in again. “You’re quite skilled!” You say, squeezing his hand twice.

He squeezes back.

Again, you feel a funny warmth in your chest. This time, paired with a fluttering in your stomach. Kuroo’s smile never fades as he stares at you, continuing the silly made-up dance you both perform.

“You’re the one leading, I should say that about you,” Kuroo once again twirls you. You release one of his hands and extend your arm, twirling back in until your back hits his chest. You giggle. “See?” He comments, humming along to the song.

You both rock back and forth like that for a moment.

“Now you’re just being cheesy,” You tease, stepping away from the man. He shakes his head playfully, brushing off your words. You run your fingers through your hair, clearing your throat. “We should get back to the shopping,” You take the cart again. Kuroo is right behind you, already with a new item from the list in his hand. He sets it in the basket before placing his hand back on the handle.

You pat the back of his hand, relaxing your hand over his absentmindedly.

The shopping continues like normal, with occasional breaks for Kuroo to look at items or point out interesting things he sees. It’s quick work, and you find yourself at the checkout before you know it, packing your items into bags and carrying them to the car.

The strange stomach twisting doesn’t die down. Even when you unpack the bags with Kuroo, roping Kageyama and Bokuto into helping you both put all the groceries away, it sticks.

Strange.

previous | masterlist | next

funfacts:

Kuroo is in charge of the grocery shopping because he’s the only one who likes doing it

Kenma or Yamaguchi usually go shopping with Kuroo but he decided to torment you instead

taglist: @odxrilove @pogpixelz @toshiswifey @thechaosoflonging @anime-meme-sanctuary @chaseyui @lucyrocks86 @mirikusashes @bolinhodadestruicao @w0rm-babie @fandomsgotmefucked @meena-in-a-nutshell @halcyondaisy @emisse @cerealfrdinner797 @sakusasimpbot

[ace-does-stuff]

Drugged and gutted

He dug a scalpel under my skin before running the blade between my ribs and throwing the scalpel to the side and turning back to the small cart he had with a tray of tools. He turned back to me with a drill and pliers, I, the hell does he need a drill for...

Oh fuck.

He tore my skin away from the remainder of my ribcage that was still covered, chunks of muscle tearing off along with the skin. He grabbed a knife, a simple blade, one you would find in your average home kitchen, like the one Jazz used when she helped mom make porkchops.

Then he angled the blade against the meat covering my sternum and pushed, slicing the meet off in sheets thin enough to deep fry like chips and placing the sheets onto a tray. He grabbed the drill, lifted the power tool up under the cool looking surgical light and pressed the trigger a few times for show like everyone does out of reflex, but now, the gesture was horrific.

the worker pressed the tip of the cylindrical 'serrated' drill bit to the center of my sternum and pressed down on the trigger gently the bit dug into my bone, I screamed, in pain or fear, hard to tell when your sternum is being shattered. He growled at me slightly before pressing down on the trigger harder and pushing the bit deeper into by bone, until a crack echoed between the walls, he froze as ectoplasm oozed from the webbing cracks in the center of the bone.

He grabbed a small pair of tweezers and a smaller drill bit, replacing the bit on the drill with the smaller, more precise one, never knew dad teaching me how to use power tools would come in 'handy' here. The worker brought the tweezers to the bone and plucked the smaller ivory shards from the marrow, which in reality was far from regular human marrow, cause ghost half go brr.

How many drugs did they put in my food?

I yelped when I felt a strand, no shit, a strand of thicker than usual ectoplasm be torn from the bone, guess I have that in my bones instead of marrow. I saw the worker drop the clot of ectoplasm into a jar, the substance bubbled as the green ooze dried out from air exposure for so long, the worker put a lid on the jar, maybe they will get some of my DNA.

The worker grabbed the drill again and pressed the trigger fully down before pressing the bit to the edges of my sternum to try and cut the bone out of me, that won't fucking work, who taught this guy biology.

"Your doing this all wrong," I said with a sigh, man my voice sounds weird, all drunk. "You need a slightly larger drill bit or a steak knife, maybe even a bone saw, but those are a bit to large and work better for horizontal then vertical." the worker gave a nod, a look of slight shock and shame in himself for knowing less about dissection than a kid, he grabbed a serrated knife.

Wait, why did I help him?

He pushed the blade through the bone connecting my sternum and ribs at the top of my chest before sawing to the last rib and moving to the other set. I whimpered in pain as tears gathered at the corners of my eyes, I mean, sure I could scream, no risk of even more electrocution, yeah, maybe I should go with that.

I opened my mouth to scream, the worker shoved a thin tube down my neck as far down as he could until he almost reached my right lung, I gagged against the plastic to try and force that shit the fuck out of me, this is worse than my nightmare. The worker brought up a small syringe, full of blue liquid, he pressed down on the plunger forcing the liquid down the tube and into my lung, the ooze simply sliding in and bonding with the organ.

The ooze burned, real bad, and then the pain was gone, numbness shot across my body as the worker reached for pliers. My vision started to haze a little bit as the worker brought the pliers to my chest, I didn't feel the metal clamp onto one of my ribs, I saw the pliers tear the bone from my body, only feeling a slight sting of pain.

Don't they want me to suffer?

I'm just an animal, right?

No, if I was they wouldn't be kind enough to use full blown, pain stopping meds, just pain soothing meds so I wouldn't die from bodily shock, or whatever they said.

The worker tore another rib from my torso, this one cause more pain, the worker went back for thirds, then fourths, then fifths till I was missing nearly three quarters of my ribcage. I saw a gaping hole that rapidly filled with the ectoplasm that spilt from the bones, the torso was once just some average, trans kids chest.

The view was alien to me, the ectoplasm overflowed from the chasm and onto the metal slab I was restrained to before dripping to the highly ectoplasm saturated concrete below. The worker, being a bitch grabbed some sort of chemical, maybe he grabbed water and poured the liquid into my chest, all I felt was burning, but the ectoplasm flow slowed down.

The worker smirked before plunging a hand into my chest, I squirmed, the numbing could do nothing against how violating this felt. He was handling each of my organs, he squeezed my lungs, gripping my pipes, and a lot more, each touch, if I can call what he did touch.

He skimmed past my core, I tensed, I stopped moving completely, everything just stopped working for a second before movement returned and I screamed at the worker, for everything, hell, he didn't even mentally break me, just did what he was told which was this.

How much can I hate him for doing his job?

he plunged his hand back into me, hitting my core exactly, yeah I can hate him, I can fucking murder him when I'm out of here. He held his hand on my core keeping me still, my breathing was shallow, my heartrate slowed and joints seized up.

He held up a small scalpel in the low light, the blade gleamed with fresh anti ecto materials, the stuff was basically matters badass grandma. He brought the scalpel down into the chasm in my chest, he groped around my core for any connections to the rest of my body, finding three central veins.

He pressed the scalpel against the vein, the metal burned, I could feel the pain surging through my veins, the burn cut short after reaching the outer edges of the special subsection in my chest for my core, only way to describe where the energy ball rests. The metal sliced through the vein, cutting the muscle below, I screamed in pain somehow, normally if someone got this close my jaws would glue shut.

"Animal, you didn't make to much sound before now, what changed?" The worker asked me as he went to slice the second vein, I felt ectoplasm start to fill the chasm in my chest when the vein disconnected from my main energy source.

The worker went to grab my core and yank the source out of me, I screamed and cried and thrashed as the worker pulled the core from me, the one vein keeping me alive starting to give out, the pulses of life slowing and losing effect.

With one swift pull, I heard a small snap and my body started to give way, I felt nothing when I breathed, nothing as tears streamed down my face, nothing when the worker pulled the tube from my throat.

I can't... I can't feel anymore...

[biggest-stupidhead]

Bad Timing (Levi x reader) Part 6

Summary: How do you tell your friends that you’re falling for your big brother’s best friend? 

Word Count: 5.8K 

Warnings: none? (let me know if I missed something pls) 

November had seamlessly slipped into December, your small town was now decorated with wreathes of evergreen boughs instead of dried corn husks. A large Christmas tree had been set up in the small park off of main street, a crowd of enthusiastic citizens milling about to decorate the large evergreen. You turned your attention back to the hardware store where your older brother was purchasing a roll of wrapping paper and an armful of Christmas lights. Erwin thanked the cashier and pushed out of the store with his arms full of paper bags. You wordlessly relieved him of two of the bags, a smile on your face.

You had to admit, the town was doused in an ethereal winter glow, it was a Saturday afternoon and main street was bustling. The small coffee shop was decked out in Christmas decorations and people were flocking to get a cup of their holiday specials. The small boutiques were advertising the latest fashions, the hardware store was busier than usual, and the small breakfast joint was packed with families enjoying a quiet breakfast. The sidewalks were damp with melted snow, chunks of sidewalk salt crunching underfoot as you made your way to Erwin's minivan that was parked down the street.

"So movie night tonight..." Erwin cleared his throat and glanced down at you.

"Yeah, nothing too special just the usual crew." you shrugged indifferently.

"I figured as much." the blonde sighed as he fumbled for his keys in his pocket.

"Is there a problem?" you asked, a bit nervous that Erwin would change his mind and tell you that you couldn't host the movie night that you had planned.

"No, no of course not, I was just wondering if you were planning on seeing Levi off with Mom and I tomorrow morning." he hummed thoughtfully as you loaded the bags into the trunk of the van.

"I'll be there." you grunted as you settled into the front seat. Erwin nodded, pleased with your response and started the car.

-

When you arrived at your house you were surprised to see that Levi and Hange were both present. A glance at your brother told you that he also was not expecting them to be there either. You both made quick work of bringing in the groceries, you smiled softly at the sight of your mother and Hange fussing over some garland that you draped over the kitchen cabinets as decoration. Levi was hunched over the sink with his sleeves of his chunky knit sweater rolled up as he scrubbed relentlessly at a pan. Erwin bushed past you and into the living room to light the fireplace, you bit your lip to conceal a giggle as Hange got tangled in the itchy garland. Your mom immediately set to work on untangling her and you turned to put away the goods that you and Erwin had acquired.

Erwin waltzed back into the kitchen and set to work on drying the dishes that Levi had already washed, the two of them falling into an easy rhythm. You took the dried dishes and began to put them away, reveling in the domestic environment. You knew that this wouldn't last much longer, they were going to school, starting their lives. Instead of dwelling on the thought you decided to just enjoy the little time that you had left with them.

"Aw that looks amazing! Good work Hange!" your mom praised the brunette as she finished tacking up the garland over the cabinets.

"Thanks Angie!" Hange beamed, your mom chuckled and took the hammer and remaining nails from her to return to their rightful places. Hange turned to see the three of you finishing up the last of the dishes.

"Look at you guys getting along." she cooed, clutching her hands over the sleek black turtleneck that she wore tucked into her bright yellow checkered pants.

"Shut up and go grab me a fresh rag." Levi grunted as he shoved the dirty rag into Hange's hands. She turned and obediently made her way down the hall to the laundry room to fetch a fresh rag for Levi to wipe down the counters.

"What's Kenny planning on doing this year without you home?" Erwin prodded, as he watched Levi scrape a skeptical finger over the countertop.

"Gamble, drink himself to death, hell if I know." Levi scoffed as he wiped his hand off on a hand towel and stooped down to pull out the all purpose cleaner from under the sink.

"Is that what he usually does?" you asked carefully, Levi paused a thoughtful look passing over his usually stoic mien.

"I guess." Levi shrugged, his face falling back into one of indifference. You hummed thoughtfully, nobody deserved to spend Christmas alone, not even Levi's bum of an uncle. Hange jogged back into the kitchen sliding on the clean floors due to her thick cabin socks. She held the clean rag out proudly for Levi who then doused it with cleaner and began scrubbing the counters. Your mom returned from the garage, her cheeks flushed from the cold.

"Levi sweetie what have I told you about cleaning? You really don't have to do that." she scolded, Levi frowned but continued to wipe down the counters while Erwin busied himself with inspecting the new LED lights that he had purchased. Your mother reached up and ruffled Erwins hair affectionately as she passed and made her way towards the stairs. Hange chuckled and settled into one of the stools at the island.

"When will your buddies be arriving?" she hummed, a smirk curling onto her lips as she perched her chin on her intertwined fingers. You pursed your lips and glanced at the clock over the stove, it was only three o'clock, they shouldn't arrive until six.

"Sometime around six." you reported, pulling a holiday magazine out of the stack in the middle of the island. You idly flipped through the pages, ignoring the way Hange's glasses glinted in the light as she studied you thoughtfully. She inhaled, as if she were about to speak, but you quickly shut the tabloid and threw it back onto the pile and stood.

"Welp better go set things up." you stretched dramatically and before Hange or anyone else could get in another word you fled down stairs. Thankfully you had taken the time the night prior to clean out the basement and pull out decorations. You stacked piles of seasonal quilts and other knit blankets about on the couch and some on the floor as well. You lit some seasonal candles in the basement restroom and one on the T.V stand.

You had already set up a tangle of white LED lights at the base of the TV and some other small snowmen figurines as well as a small Christmas tree in the back corner for the group to decorate and place white elephant gifts beneath. The tree was already bundled up with rainbow lights and strands of shimmery tinsel. You deemed the basement as satisfactory and turned to begin preparing snacks and other treats.

You weren't surprised to find Hange and Levi at each others throats, Hange had a fistful of Levi's sweater, and he had her by the ponytail. Erwin was still engrossed by the lights as he attempted to untangle them, seemingly unbothered by his friends. You carefully stepped over the mess of lights and began by preheating the oven, you planned on making frozen pizzas and some of those cheap Pillsbury dough boy sugar cookies that you bought during the holidays.

"Admit it!" Hange snarled as she jostled Levi.

"You're being overdramatic four eyes." Levi hissed as she shook him relentlessly.

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

You rolled your eyes and did your best to ignore them. Their relationship never ceased to confuse you, the pair seemed to constantly be in a state of turmoil. One day they were perfectly content with each other, but the next they would be at each others throats as they were now. It gave you whiplash, especially on days when they flipped between these two states every few minutes. Realistically you knew that it was Hange who added the turmoil to their relationship, she was very chaotic by nature. You originally figured that Levi tolerated Hange's presence because Erwin and her were dating, but now that you had gotten to see the two of them interact you knew better. Somewhere deep down you knew Levi cared about the manic young scientist, and Hange openly voiced her affections for Levi.

You smiled at the sound of the two of them tussling, their staggering steps receding into the living room where they would have more room to rough one another up. You heard a body slam to the ground, which is when you turned to see Levi glaring down at Hange who was now sprawled out on the hardwood floor. Erwin frowned at his friends disapproval evident on his features. When he had first introduced the pair all they ever did was fight, but that was when they were younger, now he expected better from them. Also he was surprised that Hange still even attempted to best Levi in a fight, the raven haired male was surprisingly strong and had experience under his belt.

Hange hauled herself onto her feet as Levi stalked back towards the kitchen, his sweater now stretched out around the neck where Hange had tugged on the material. Just as he was about the sit down, Hange snagged him around the neck and locked him into a choke hold, a victorious bout of laughter leaving her lips as she dragged him back into the living room. Levi's socked feet attempted in vain to slow down the persistent brunette as she drug him backwards. You slid the pizza in the oven and turned to pull out the popcorn so that it would be ready for when the others arrived. Erwin scoffed and gathered the lights, which were now free of tangles and hauled them outside into the waning light.

You frowned after him, hoping that he didn't plan to put them up in the dark. Turning your attention back to the brawl in the living room you were impressed to see that Hange still had the upper hand. Levi had a hand placed on her jaw as he tried to push her face away from his, the two of them were on the ground, Hange underneath Levi who was trapped in a choke hold with Hange's legs wrapped around his waist. Levi snarled as he thrashed in Hange's hold, his sweater riding up as he struggled. Hange was laughing her head off, finally releasing Levi in favor of clutching her stomach as her laughter grew more intense. Levi seethed as he took a few healthy steps away from Hange and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to straighten it. Hange stood up and wiped a tear from her eye before turning to face Levi.

"But seriously, you should do it." Hange's tone turned serious as she addressed Levi. He scoffed and curled his lip in disgust.

"Probably more trouble than it's worth." he retorted.

"Just give it a shot." Hange begged, her hands clasped together over her chest.

"I'll think about it." Levi snorted, he stalked out of the living room and back into the kitchen, his eyes sweeping over the room, clearly searching for Erwin.

"Outside." you jabbed a thumb in the direction of the front door, he said nothing as he trudged past. You knew better than to ask what they had been arguing about, they always just brushed you off. So instead you returned your focus on preparing for your movie marathon. You could already see a bruise forming on Hange's jaw from here Levi's fingers hand attempted to pry her off of him. You flinched, recalling his iron grip, you knew how it felt to be manhandled by him.

"So...what are you guys doing tonight?"  you questioned casually as you pulled the cookies from the oven. Your voice derailed Hange's train of thought, she whipper her head around and pursed her lips as she considered your question.

"Hm, I guess whatever Levi wants since it is his last night in the states for a whole month." she mused, rubbing her hand along her tender jaw. You nodded, this probably meant nothing, Levi wasn't much of an extrovert so it made sense that he wouldn't want many people present except for those he considered dearest to him to see him off.

"Well if you guys want you could join us, they won't be staying late." you were quick to tack on the last part, knowing that Levi probably wasn't ecstatic to spend his last night with underclassmen.

"I'll see what I can do." Hange winked before retreating towards the stairs and jogging up them, presumably to change into comfier clothes. You leaned against the counter and sighed heavily, things were changing and you hated it. You knew that at sooner or later your brother would go off and begin his life, but you did not expect it to come so quickly. You also didn't expect to grow so fond of his friends. Before you could totally bum yourself out your phone vibrated, startling you.

"Hello?" you asked, not bothering to check the caller id.

"(Y/n)?" Connie's familiar upbeat voice brought you back to earth.

"Yeah what's up?" you chuckled as you wedged your phone between your ear and shoulder to slide the pizza into the oven.

"I just wanted to let ya know that Sasha and I are on our way and we are bringing some snacks just like you asked!" he boasted, you could practically see the swell of his chest and the smug smirk on his lips as he spoke.

"Great! How far away are you?" you asked as you shut the oven.

"About five minutes." he affirmed.

"I'll see you soon." you hummed as you set the timer on the oven.

"Yep!" he beamed, after a moment you heard the familiar beep signaling that the call had been ended. You dropped your phone back onto the counter and glanced out the window behind the sink. The sun had began to sink below the trees, and still Erwin and Levi were outside, you hoped that they were not trying to tack up the lights. With a heavy sigh you trudged through the front of the house and slipped on a pair of Erwin's moccasins and pushed through the front door. You wrapped your arms around your chest and frowned when you didn't see the pair anywhere on the front yard. You cupped your hands over your mouth and inhaled sharply.

"Erwin!" you yelled, your voice echoing off the barren trees and the serene snowy scene. No response. Just as you were about to call again, a huge glob of snow fell off the roof right on to your head. You shrieked and turned to see Levi standing on the roof, the toes of his boot sticking over the newly uncovered patch of your roof. You glared up at him as you brushed the snow off of your shirt and shivered.

"Quit shouting." was all he said before turning and stalking back out of your line of sight.

"Are you guys almost finished? It's getting dark and I don't want to spend the night in the hospital." you whined as you took a few steps back to get a better view of the roof. You heard the distant sound of a hammer, but no response to your question. You rolled your eyes and took yet another step back. This time you could see Erwin hunched over the edge of the roof, Levi had returned to his side to hold him by his belt as he stood on the slippery surface. Not the smartest or safest way to hang up lights but hey if it works it works. After a few more swings Erwin leaned back on his haunches to admire his work, with a satisfied nod the two grabbed the remaining nails and began their descent.

"Hold that ladder for us would ya (Y/n)?" Erwin hollered down and pointed a finger to the old metal ladder that was perched against the side of the house. You nodded and waded through the snow to stabilize the ladder for the two of them to climb down. You only relaxed when both of them were safely on the ground, the three of you quickly gathered all of the tools that they used and folded the ladder back up before trudging through the snow to the side door that led into the garage. You stored all of the items and filed into the door that led into the kitchen, only to find Sasha and Connie milling about with Hange and your mother.

The kitchen was warm due to the heat of the oven and all of the people in the room. You tugged at the neck of your crewneck sweat shirt, your eyes drifted to where Connie was struggling to open a candy cane. Sasha was ripping open a bag of popcorn to place int the microwave. A short knock on the door alerted you that someone else had arrived, just as you rounded the corner to let in your guests, the door opened and Jean poked his head in.

"Hey!" he exclaimed as he pushed the rest of the way in, a paper bag cradled in the crook of his elbow.

"Hey, come on in!" you waved him in, a smile gracing your lips at the sight of Marco close behind him, a stack of old CDs in his grasp.

"Marco! I'm so glad you could make it." you gushed as you went to relieve Jean of the bag in his arms. Marco smiled a bit bashfully and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah me too." he blushed, the red tint obscuring his freckled cheeks.

"Well you can go ahead and take those to the basement, Jean can you show him?" you asked as the three of you entered the chaotic kitchen. Jean nodded and grabbed Marco's bicep to steer him towards the basement, before you knew it the pair had disappeared down the stairs.

Your mom had given Connie a hand and opened his candy for him, and now he was sucking on the peppermint candy, the end of it gradually forming a point. Sasha was listening to Hange as she gestured wildly, something about the amount of chemicals and various pesticides used to grow corn. Levi was surprisingly still in the crowded kitchen, although it seemed he was purely there to supervise, Erwin was inspecting Hange and your mother's handy-work with the garland. Just as you managed to wedge yourself between Hange and Sasha to reach the oven, the sound of the doorbell made Sasha jump and push you back.

"I'll get it!" she cried out before making a break for the foyer and escaping Hange's rant. You rolled your eyes and pulled the pizza out of the oven. Hange bounced around the kitchen, stopping in front of Erwin, he pulled her into his embrace by her hips, Levi rolled his eyes before stalking away from the pair. He padded through the kitchen and into the living room where he dropped onto the sofa. You pursed your lips, the thought of joining him crossed your mind but before you could act on it Jean had you by your shoulders and was steering you towards the basement to follow the crowd downstairs.

You allowed him to guide you downstairs along with the others, Connie and Sasha were already in the basement, running circles around the couch chasing one another. Connie had Sasha on the run, periodically jabbing his sharpened candy cane at her whenever he got close enough. You cracked a smile at the pair as the others moved to sit on the couch, you took a moment to appreciate Mikasa's outfit, she had favored a festive red sweater that had a raindeer sewn onto the front instead of her usual goth get up. Eren had also worn a forrest green sweater with a Christmas tree, Armin wore a sky blue sweater with a cheeky snowman on the front. You beamed at their choices, all of them very fitting, Jean and Marco wore a matching set with two elves on the front of their green sweaters. Connie and Sasha also wore sweaters, Connie's had Rudolf with a nose that actually lit up while Sasha wore a white sweater with a turkey on the front.

Connie finally managed to catch Sasha, holding her in a chokehold and dragging her over to the sofa. Marco dropped down next to Armin and the two began to sift through the options, Mikasa watched the two converse while keeping an eye on Eren who was poking fun at Jean's sweater. You decided to let the pair work it out on their own for once and dropped down next to Mikasa. Marco had managed to bring quite the variety of movies, he had classics like Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer, A Christmas Story, Santa Clause, Home Alone, and more. You unanimously decided that A Christmas Story would be the perfect start, so you popped the disk in and all settled into your seats. Sasha and Connie had to sit on the ground, you had learned the hard way that they were messy eaters and it was much easier to clean the floor than the crevices in the couch. The movies went by quickly, and before long it was already 12 am, you finished the last few minutes before everyone began to fold blankets and pick up the dishes that they had used. You all climbed the stairs and dropped the dishes in the sink and the trash in the bin, you thanked them for coming and wished them safe travels as they all filed out the door. Jean lingered for a moment, a hand on your hip as the two of you stood on the threshold. The others had long since climbed into their cars, it was only Marco who was waiting for Jean.

"Thanks again for hosting tonight." Jean smirked as he pulled you flush against his chest, the scratchy sweater tickled your nose as you rested your head against him.

"It's really not that big of a deal, I like having all you guys over." you whispered against his chest as he rubbed a hand up and down the curve of your back. You were surprised when a flurry of butterflies fluttered in your stomach at his ministrations. His hand slid up your back and came to rest splayed between your shoulder blades for a moment before continuing to slide up and into your hair. Your heart pounded in your ears as he kept his steady gaze on your face, with a gentle tug he pulled your head back to look up at him. You blinked rapidly, as he slowly leaned in until his breath fanned across your lips.

"May I kiss you?" he murmured, his tongue flicking our over his bottom lip as he awaited your answer.

"Y-You may." you stuttered, that was all he needed. He closed the small gap and pressed his lips against your own, taking your bottom lip into his mouth and sucking. You kissed him back timidly, not quite sure how you felt about this interaction. It seemed as if the kiss lasted for hours, when in reality it was probably only about two minutes. Marco laid on the horn of Jean's car, startling the two of you. Jean smiled sheepishly at you before turning and jogging down the steps and over to his car. He turned and waved at you, even going as far as winking before climbing into his car and starting the engine. You couldn't stop your wandering fingers from tracing your wet lower lip as he drove off, he wasn't a half bad kisser. You stepped back into the foyer and closed the door and locked up. The house was quite, but you could hear Hange laughing upstairs, and your mom's TV in her room playing Grey's Anatomy. Since the others had been kind enough to aid you in cleaning up most of the mess, you decided to go get changed into pajamas. You tiptoed up the stairs and past Erwin's room, you could hear Hange, Levi, and Erwin behind the door, they seemed to be bickering as per usual.

You quickly threw on a sweatshirt and a pair of running shorts before wandering back to Erwin's door and rapping on the wood with the back of your knuckles. The voices fell quiet before Erwin pulled the door open just enough to peek through the crack, you frowned at him skeptically. He relaxed when he realized that it was only you and pulled the door open to allow you inside. Erwin's room was like most athletic teen males, messy. His desk was cluttered with papers and pens and the odd textbook. His bed was messed up, Hange was splayed across the comforter watching Levi scroll through his phone. The LED lights in Erwin's room were rotating through multiple colors, the floor was surprisingly clean, probably because Levi was in the room. Your eyes fell on his large beanbag that rested in its usual corner and you moved to fall onto the familiar seat but before you could collapse Hange called out to you.

"(Y/n)! come lay with me." she yawned as she beckoned you over. You sighed but decided to indulge her, you frowned at the small amount of space between her and Levi and opted for the foot of the bed. Erwin dropped down into his desk chair and hunched over his homework, seemingly uninterested in hanging out with you just yet. You sank down onto the foot of Erwin's queen sized bed, Hange frowned and patted the space between her and Levi. You grimaced but still crawled up the bed and pressed your self to Hange to avoid entering Levi's bubble. Hange draped her arm over your waist as you settled your back against her chest.

"Leviiiii let us see" Hange cooed, reaching to pull Levi's elbow so you could see his phone screen. Levi frowned but obliged, angling his wrist so all three of you could see his screen. He was on tiktok, watching a deep cleaning video. His for you page followed the trend of the first video, reviews on cleaning products, amazon reviews and unboxings, some aesthetic videos, mostly boring things. Before you knew it Hange's head slumped down onto your shoulder and you felt her steady breath on your skin, her arm that had been holding you in her iron grip had also gone slack. Levi glanced at the two of you and tried to engrave the image in his mind, the crushing reality of leaving his friends was beginning to sink in. Anyone else would think that he would be happy to leave this bumpkin town for Paris, but they would be wrong. His phone buzzed in his hand, forcing him to tear his gaze off of the two of you. He blinked at the banner that had appeared at the top of his screen, an unknown number.

"Have a safe trip tomorrow big bro! ❤️(red heart emoji)" Levi allowed the corner of his mouth to curl upwards as he read the message. However it was short lived when he realized that it was around 7am in Paris, what on earth was she doing up? He rolled his eyes and opened the message to shoot her a reply:

"Go back to sleep brat it's a Saturday."  he shut his phone off as soon as the message went through, feeling a bit better about his impending departure knowing that his sister was waiting for him. He hadn't seen them in almost 7 years now, he had left France with his uncle when he was only 11 years old when his uncle had gotten a new job. He was only able to return now because he had spent the last three years working odd jobs to save up enough cash to purchase a round trip to France for the holidays.

"Penny for your thoughts?" your muffled voice brought Levi back to the present. He scoffed, glancing down he noted that your eyes were closed and your face pressed into the pillows. He spared another glance to your brother who was now typing furiously on his laptop with a pair of cheap headphones pushed deep into his ears.

"Well?" you pressed, cracking an eye open to gauge his reaction.

"There's nothing to share." he huffed, sinking deeper into Erwin's bed dejectedly.

"So you admit that your head is filled with nothing but elevator music?" you jabbed, a sleepy smirk on your lips. Levi's nose scrunched at the comment, he rolled over onto his side, propping his head on his hand as he glared daggers down at you.

"At least tell me what song is playing in there." you giggled, reaching a hand up to tap you index finger on his temple. He blinked slowly as he allowed you to tease him, knowing that this would be the last time you would get the chance for a whole month. You frowned when he said nothing still and sighed heavily.

"You really won't tell me?" you pursed your lips when Levi's lip twitched, threatening to curl upwards. So that's how it's going to be.

"I was thinking about you." Levi professed, his tone surprisingly tender. Your eyes widened, now you were awake, you felt hot embarrassment rush up your neck and cover your cheeks.

"W-What?" you stammered, the confidence that had flowed so freely through your actions earlier long forgotten.

"You heard me."

"Could you be more specific?"

"Eh" Levi shrugged and rolled over so his back was to you. Astonished, you sat frozen still being crushed under a sleeping Hange. You sat up as much as you could to peek at Erwin, yup he was still grinding on that Economy project. Carefully you shrugged Hange's arm off of your waist and rolled out from under her head. She only snorted and rolled so her back was to you. You sat up fully and grabbed Levi's upper arm to shake him, after a few seconds of jostling, he rolled over and opened his mouth to hand you a snarky comment. His eyes widened slightly to see your finger pressed firmly against your lips. You jerked your head towards the door before you threw your legs over Levi's and slid off the bed and quietly let yourself out of the room. Levi frowned as he watched you leave, a bit confused on what was about to happen. Did you want him to fuck you? Maybe, most likely not but a guy can dream.

He frowned at Erwin who was totally engrossed in his work, even mumbling incoherently to himself as he typed. Perfect timing, he padded quietly across the room and slid out into the dark hallway, a purple glow illuminating the hall as he opened the door. You turned and gave Levi a small smile, but just as he was about to demand why you had summoned him you turned and slunk down the stairs. Now he was officially stumped, still he followed you down into the empty kitchen, you didn't stop there though, you continued down the stairs.Casting a brief glance over your shoulder to make sure that he was following you. Once you had reached the basement you dropped dramatically onto the couch and leaned back into the cushions.

"So are you excited to leave tomorrow?" you asked, turning your sleepy gaze to him as he settled down onto the cushions next to you.

"You could say that." he shrugged as he threw an arm over the back of the couch and tilted his head to gauge your reaction.

"I would be too, I mean those French girls must be smoking hot." you chuckled as you rolled to your side to face him, a wry smile on your lips. Levi scoffed and averted his gaze, once you had stopped giggling you sighed contently.

"It's getting late." you groaned as you glanced at your phone. Levi hummed in agreement as he watched you avoid his gaze.

"Why did you drag me down here?" Levi asked outright, you licked your lips as you attempted to put your feelings into words. But how could you do that when you didn't even know how to feel.

"I guess I just wanted to, I don't know have a moment with you before you leave." you muttered your eyes trained on your hands as you toyed with a ring on your finger. Levi said nothing as he watched you fidget.

"Well here we are." his cold eyes were locked on you as you turned to shoot him a glare.

"I know." you replied meekly, desperately wanting him to ease the awkward atmosphere, but you knew Levi and he wasn't very good at breaking the ice. So the two of you sat in silence for a moment, just staring at each other.

"Even though you're a massive dick, I'm going to miss you." you broke the thick silence.

"Quit being so dramatic, I'll be gone for a month not a year." Levi rolled his eyes and let his arm fall from the back of the couch to drape over your shoulders. You winced, surprised by his sudden action. He tightened  his grip and pulled you into his side, his face still void of emotion.

"It's not like that, I'll just miss you cleaning my house for me. Now I'm going to have to pick up the slack." you joked, a playful smile spreading across your face, but the happiness didn't quite seem to reach your eyes. This didn't escape Levi's watchful gaze, instead of commenting on your obvious uncertainty Levi only pulled you closer to him.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'll just be cleaning up after Isabel and Farlan." he spoke softly, his face still void of any expression in particular. You pursed your lips and nodded thoughtfully, you wondered if one day you would get the pleasure of meeting the pair. When you said nothing Levi tapped his finger against your bicep and inhaled sharply.

"Are you jealous?"

"Ha as if." you scoffed, throwing him a playful glance as you elbowed him sharply in his ribs. His lip quirked upwards, if you hadn't been paying attention you would have missed his small smile.Your chest swelled with pride, it was rare for someone to say something worthy of Levi smiling about, it was only recently that you had noticed that you had been able to coax a few brief smiles onto his face.

You wondered if you would be able to still make him smile when he comes back.

[bratkook]

one chance. (m) knj. teaser.

pairing. flash!namjoon x reader genre. fluff, angst, smut, superhero!au word count. approx 20k warnings. light hearted, some fighting (not graphic), mentions of character death (also not graphic...or permanent), mutual pining, namjoon is an adorably sweet dork !! smut: tbd as i write! but ofc filthy summary. namjoon knows he only has one chance to go back and make things right, but is he prepared to live with the potential consequences that his actions could cause? note. this was going to be part of a bts super hero collab that fell through (& i hope the author’s involved still post their fics) i’m about halfway through writing it and hope this will give me the motivation to finish it lmao. i might do a tag list if anyone is interested?? lmk muah.

The searing pain is felt before Namjoon even hits the floor, shooting down his fingertips when he attempts to move them, making his shoulder ache with each breath he takes. The plastic drums he had just collided into—an impact at a speed they weren’t designed to withhold—lay tattered in bits and chunks all around him, cold water that would typically be held inside them now spilled out and soaking into his suit. 

A hiss escapes his lips as he remains on the wet floor, already hearing the rushing footsteps approaching him. “It’s broken!” he shouts out, wincing when he once again attempts to move his arm. “Why isn’t it healing if it’s broken?”

When you and Hoseok finally reach him, you breathe a sigh of relief. From the absolute chaos his crash had caused, you were expecting to see him a lot more battered and bruised. Instead he lay on his side, hand gently cradling his aching shoulder with a grimace on his face. 

“Holy shit, that was awesome.” Hoseok barely spares a glance at Namjoon, overstepping him to assess the damage caused, tapping away at the screen of his tablet as he does so, checking the speed data he had captured. 

“You told me these would hold,” Namjoon grumbles, foot kicking a nearby scrap of plastic, another groan leaving him when his shoulder throbs. 

“That was just a guess.” Hoseok brushes him off, continuing to type away as he circles the crash scene. He only approaches Namjoon to pluck the Go-pro off his head, pocketing it with a sheepish smile on his face. 

With a subtle eye roll, you’re crouching down to meet Namjoon’s body, hands gently reaching out to see what the problem was. He lets his hand fall from it’s protective position, eyes squeezing shut as he waits for the burst of pain to come, jaw clenching when your fingers press along his shoulder, clearly feeling the way it had popped out of place. 

“It’s not healing because it’s not broken.” Namjoon finally opens his eyes now, peering up at you and gulping when he realizes just how close you are. He can clearly see the worry in your eyes as you try to see just how bad it is, a crease between your brows that he wants to rub out with the pad of his thumb, small frown on your lips that only makes him feel worse for going against your warning of this being a bad idea. 

A small huff spills from your lips once you realize you won’t be able to help him until you’re back at the lab without this suit—a suit that Hoseok calls his pride and joy—covering him up. “It’s dislocated. You probably tore some ligaments and tendons, but those will heal up just fine once we pop it back into place.”

“Wait, is that gonna hurt?” he whines out, huffing out the strands of his brown hair that had fallen over his face and gasping in pain when you purposely prod at the swollen joint with a small glare. 

“I’ll make sure it does so you remember to never go against my warnings.”

“Oh god, you’re doing this on purpose!” Namjoon yells, sat on the cold chair, knees pulled up as he braces for the pain. 

“I told you I was,” you smirk, extending his arm out, hands placed against his palm with the other on his trap muscle to get a good grip. The loose threads of his suit tickle his skin, a product of you cutting the fabric to double check that the only thing wrong was in fact his dislocated shoulder. 

Did you actually have to cut it? No. This was just your childish way of getting back at Hoseok for convincing Namjoon to do this. 

The grimace never leaves his face as you stretch the limb out, twisting it slowly to the right angle before pulling back with a slight pop once it settles back into its rightful spot. 

He feels the relief instantly, tense muscles relaxing as he sags back into the chair, face no longer contorted in pain when you gently lower his arm. Namjoon swears he’s never felt better, already able to lift his arms as if nothing ever happened, the torn tendons quickly repaired and back to normal thanks to his regenerative ability.  

“Good to go. If you pop it out of place again you’re gonna have to do it yourself.”

“Yeah right. I’ll just have Hoseok do it for me.”

Right on cue, a crash sounds out behind you, followed by a shout and an apology as Hoseok picks up whatever gadget he was currently working on. 

“You sure about that?” you question with a smug smile, crossing your arms under your chest as you step back. As smart and helpful as Hoseok was, his mind was far too focused on the technology surrounding him. If Namjoon seriously injured himself, the only person who would know what to do, was you. 

He knew this, and sometimes he liked that fact, not opposed to the way you’d constantly worry about him—totally choosing to ignore the reason why you did so was because it was your job. That tiny factor in the equation was tucked into the back of his mind. His small crush was innocent, and if looking forward to seeing what color lipstick you’d wear that day helped him deal with getting poked, questioned, and forced to run on a treadmill to document his speed, then that's fine by him. 

“I won’t dislocate my shoulder again. I promise.” 

Something about the smile on his face does nothing to ease your worry, and as Hoseok emerges from his room with a giddy laugh, you feel the need to pry. 

“What the hell were you trying to do anyway?”

“I think we’re close!” Hoseok announces, your question being brushed aside as he thrusts his tablet into Namjoon’s now fully mobile arms. The only thing lighting up the screen is a skew of numbers along with a diagram and some fancy looking animated figure that slightly resembled himself. It meant nothing to Namjoon so he doesn’t bother trying to decipher it, looking back up at Hoseok with a confused expression. 

“I don’t think me making those plastic drums explode got us any closer.” A small shiver courses through him as he recalls the pain from his shoulder once more. 

“Oh yeah, that was pointless. But I think I figured out another way.” Hoseok grabs the tablet once more, tapping a few more times before another animation fills the screen. Peering over his shoulder you spot what it is, a golden animation of what looks to be a treadmill, swirls flowing on either side of them that you believe to represent wind. 

“Another way for what?” You question again, not liking the sly look on Hoseok’s face. 

“Time travel.” He says it so casually, not even sparing you a glance as he flips the tablet over to show Namjoon. 

That wasn’t what you were expecting. When you had walked in on Hoseok pitching the idea to Namjoon, wanting to document his full speed, push it further to see what more he was capable of, you thought it was just to gather information to help when it came to figuring out a plan of action the next time a meta-human decided to torment the city. 

“Time travel?” you repeat, a displeased look on your face that Namjoon spots instantly. The small wrinkle between your brows is back and he can’t even allow himself to find it adorable because the small glare you were giving Hoseok changes course and stares directly at him. 

“Yeah,” he quietly admits, pressing his lips together gently. His saving grace comes in the form of his phone ringing loudly, cutting through the tense silence and making him jolt in his seat, hands fumbling for the device.

He has never been more thankful to get a call from work, your scolding being directed at Hoseok now, but Namjoon can hear it through his current conversation. The worried tone in your voice is clear as you question Hoseok’s sanity, stating how dangerous time travel could be in the grand scheme of things. Hoseok can only stumble over his words, flustered at being on the receiving end of your lecture. 

Namjoon ends the phone call right on time to hear you shout, “Are you trying to start World War three?!”

“I gotta go…” he whispers, slowly sliding off the chair trying to be as quiet as possible, hoping he wouldn’t be detected. But before he can flash out of there, you’re looking at him again. 

“Not so fast.” He freezes instantly, hands lifted up in front of him. “We’re not done talking about this—“

“I know, but I gotta go. I do have an actual job after all.”

Hoseok glares at Namjoon, “So you’re gonna leave me here to get yelled at...alone?”

Namjoon gives him a guilty smile, shrugging and mumbling out a quick apology before bolting out of there—literally. Your hair flows up at the speed, Hoseok’s shirt flapping wildly, and nearby documents scatter around from the gust of air he had caused. The only thing left behind is the red suit draped across the chair he had been sitting on, flashing out of it and into his regular clothes before leaving to work. 

“What was the Gopro for?” you question. As much as you didn’t like the idea of time travel, you were slightly curious about the entire situation. 

“Just thought it’d be sick to film it. Like imagine if it actually works and we have solid proof?” Hoseok’s eyes glimmer at the prospect of it all, tapping at the screen to replay the footage captured earlier. The two of you have front row seats of Namjoon’s earlier crash, and seeing the chaos along with hearing Namjoon’s grunts of pain a second time makes you glare at Hoseok once again. 

You reach forward and grab the discarded red suit from the chair, balling it up and tossing it at Hoseok’s face. “Patch it up. I had to rip the sleeve to properly see his shoulder.”

He whines loudly as he peels the material off of his face, fingers clutching the precious suit and gasping when he spots the torn area. “You monster!”

[cryptids-and-muses]

Blood and Bonds: Chapter 1

Ao3

The field was lit by the last rays of daylight. Just enough so Sypha could see the warlocks doing this perfectly. There were 10 or them, all in matching cloaks. Most of them gathered around the stone altar in the center of the field. The altar sypha was tied to.

“Oh Valefor! Duke of Hell! Come forth with your many heads and many limbs….” the warlock chanted as sypha struggled against the bonds tying her to the rock. They limited her magic but she struggled anyway, refusing to just give up.

“You’ll regret this.” She spat, but the cultists paid her no mind.

Trevor thrashed, restrained by two of the cultists, “If you so much as touch her I’ll rip your arms off and shove them up down your throat!” He shouted.

The head warlock didn’t listen, instead rising an ornate dagger to the sky, “Oh lord of thieves! I Beseech thee, accept this offering! Fill our bodies with her strength! Fill our veins with her blood! Fill our minds with her knowledge!”

A hiss escaped Adrian as he tried to stand. Struggling against the invisible weight pressing down on him. The mage in front of him smirked, and Adrian felt the weight increase. His vision blurred as he tried to breath under it. Tried to do anything.

Sypha tried to call her magic. Tried to slip her hands out of the chains. Hell, she even tried to kick the man leading the ritual. But nothing worked. The head warlock’s chanting reached a climax, “Valefor! Steal this offering’s power and make it our own!”

He brought the knife down.

Sypha screamed.

Something in Adrian snapped.

Trevor heard a snarl and the room exploded into chaos. A flurry of movement Trevor’s mind couldn’t keep up with. Just a red blur and the sounds of an animal attack. Claws tearing through flesh. Screams. The wet sound of bodies hitting the floor.

Then, just as suddenly as it started, everything went still, and Trevor could see the aftermath of whatever just happened. Blood drenched every corner of the field. Limbs and other bits of gore were scattered around in some grotesque display. The two men who had restrained Trevor were heaps on the floor. One had been torn open from collar to stomach. His intestines hanging limply outside of his body. The other’s heart had been ripped out, along with several bits of rib that had gotten in the way. But Trevor barely noticed. All his attention was on Adrian.

If he could even call the thing in front of him by the same name.

He stood by the altar, at the center of the carnage. His white shirt had been stained dark red, and was speckled with chunks of gore. Some of it even hung in his hair. Bits of flesh hung from his claws, still posed to strike at a moments notice. And his face…..Trevor felt nauseous looking at it. There was no humanity there. No concern or recognition. No trace of the man he loved at all. His lips were curled into a snarl, exposing bloodied fangs. His lips and chin were smeared with the stuff. Solid red eyes stared at the corpse at his feet. The man who’d stabbed Sypha. His throat was torn out, and around the wound were the tell-tale impression of vampire teeth.

Trevor’s hand fell to the morningstar, “......Adrian?”

There was no response.

Trevor's grip on his weapon tightened.

But then Adrian blinked, and the red cleared from his vision. What happened? He’d been pinned and then he heard sypha scream and then....

Rage.

He remembered rage. Like nothing he’d never felt before.

But everything else was blank. A sea of red and adrenaline.

He shook his head, trying to clear the remaining fog. That’s when the smell hit him. The smell of blood hung thick and choking in the air. Adrian looked up in panic, and finally got a good look at his surroundings. His eyes widened at the carnage laid before him. The butchery.

He staggered back.

What. Had. He. Done.

Adrian covered his mouth. His hand came away wet. He realized there was blood on his lips, on his fangs, that he could feel it sliding down his throat-

He fell to his knees and vomited. Bile and freshly swallowed blood splattering the grass below him.

Sypha knew something was wrong, but the world swam around her. The only thing she could make out clearly was the searing pain in her stomach. Her boys, she needed to get to them. Something was wrong and she needed to find them. She tried moving, but heat shot through her body, making her cry out.

“Sypha!” Trevor ran to her. He could see the blood soaking into her robes. She whimpered as he tried putting pressure on the wound. “Shit,” they needed to do something, fast. He looked over at their third, who was still staring in horror at the destruction around him.

“Adrian!” Trevor snapped, this time more forceful. They didn’t have time for this.

Trevor’s voice broke Adrian out of his spiralling. He looked over at the altar and it hit him. Sypha . He scrambled to her side. Those horrible chains were still around her wrists and ankles. He snapped them, and tried to not think about how much easier it was than usual.

Trevor looked around the field, “We need to leave.” There was a brief hesitation as he glanced at Adrian, “Can you carry her?”

Adrian was shaking. He ran a hand through his hair, god it was in his hair, but nodded. Focus on now, on what he needed to do. He could worry about what he’d done later. He scooped sypha into his arms and began to walk back to the town they were staying at. Pointedly not looking anywhere but ahead.

Trevor didn’t let go of sypha’s hand. He was silent as they walked, unable to get the image of Adrian with blood red eyes out of his mind.

------

It was silent as Adrian tended to Sypha in the cramped inn room. She fell asleep part way through, Adrian continued to clean her wounds. Trevor watched him from across the table while holding sypha’s hand. Neither met each other’s eyes. The tension in the room was palpable.

Eventually Adrian puts the cloth down, and lets out a shaky breath, “She’s going to be fine.”

Trevor nods, finally letting go of her hand. The silence stretched on.

“Are you going to tell me what that was?”

Adrian looked at the floor, “I don’t know.”

Trevor’s jaw tightened, “You killed ten people in the blink of an eye. You bit a man’s throat out.”

“I don’t know!” He shouted back, he hugged himself, “I’ve….I’ve never lost control like that before. I didn’t even know I was capable of that.”

Trevor sighed, “Do you remember what was going through your head?”

“Barely. I just remember sypha screaming. Then everything went red.” Adrian didn’t meet his gaze.

That oppressive silence fell again. This horrible distance between them. It took a while for Trevor to build up the courage to speak again, “I still love you, and I swear to god I always will. But.....”

Adrian gave him a sad smile, “But you can’t trust me.”

Trevor opened his mouth, then closed it again. He could still see specks of gore tangled in Adrian’s hair.

“It’s okay,” Adrian looked at the floor, “I can’t trust myself either.”

It was painful to see him like this. So distraught and scared, but Trevor forced himself to keep talking, “We can’t just ignore this. Pretend like it can’t happen again.”

A sob tore out of Adrian,”I can still fucking taste him. Can feel his blood giving me strength. I feel like a monster . If this happens again….” He was shaking, “I-I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Trevor took Adrian’s hand, “Don’t worry. I won’t let you.” He gulped, “If this happens again-“

Adrian’s eyes snapped to Trevor, “No.”

“But-”

“ No.” Adrian squeezed Trevor’s hand, his still teary eyes full of determination, “I know what it's like to have to kill someone you love. And I refuse to put you or Sypha through that. I would take myself out before I made either of you do it.”

Trevor’s throat was dry.

But what if, he wanted to say. What if you’re so far gone I don’t have a choice.

But he didn’t, he just stared at Adrian with sad eyes, “Okay,” he pulled the dhampir into his arms, hugging him tightly, “Okay.”

He wanted to say something reassuring. To tell Adrian it would be alright. But He couldn’t. So he stood there, holding Adrian as his love cried into his shoulder.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 2- Lay Me in the Sun

Summary: You’ve spent the past handful of years with your Witcher throughout your travels around the Continent. After a hunt, you’re all he wants.

Warnings: smut, fluff, Geralt being a hottie

-Part of my OMAM series that I’m working on, this is right before the happenings of the Witcher season 1, which is in the next chapter

Masterlist

You are currently sprawled out upon the vibrantly green summer grass, enjoying the softness of your living bed as a warm breeze brushes past your skin. You had hacked at a tree with your sword for about an hour and a half to let off some steam until you got too bored and sweaty. You then went for a refreshing dip in the nearby river before lounging in the afternoon sun where you happen to be right now.

Geralt has been off all day on the hunt for some subspecies of troll while you've been chilling with Roach by the river. He didn't seem keen on having you come with him this time, so instead you let him have his "me time", odd way to call hunting and hacking off a trolls head "me time" but it's Geralt so you didn't press any further. He just likes doing his thing by himself at times and considering how nice a day it is, let him.

You've been his travel companion for a good handful of years now, which delightfully has resulted in that of a strong romantic relationship with your fearsome Witcher. He keeps himself as a big scary badass with a look that could send you running for the hills, according to all the people of the continent that you've both met. But to you he's the most gentle, funny, loyal, and protective lover you've ever had, quit the opposite of what the villagers think of him.

He listens to you and cares so much about if your happy around him, which you always tell him yes. He needlessly worries that he's too much or too little for you, that maybe he doesn't show how much he truly loves you often enough. But you have grown to understand that he speaks his love language through his actions and how he looks at you, as you've found this better then any amount of words on a man's tongue could possess. And it's just how Geralt shows his affection towards you, as he's never been a mushy kinda guy who will flatter you with his abundance of compliments. Which you never have minded, in fact it would send you howling with laughter at the thought of Geralt singing you a song about your beauty compared to that of a flower. Now that would be quit the scenario.

Laying your head upon the pads of your hands, you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the comfort of the tall grass as you enjoy the sounds of rushing water over the river rocks, that is, until a foul stench reaches your nostrils. Your face contorts into an unpleasant grimace at the nasty scent of something recently deceased coming your way. Then another more familiar smell reaches your nose and you know exactly who it is. If his disgusting smell didn't already confirm his identity it would be his heavy footfalls onto the soft earth, disrupting your peaceful afternoon snooze that you get so rarely.

Suddenly the footsteps get louder until they suddenly stop near your boot covered feet, as a shadow blocks the sun from reaching your face. You slowly open your eyes to behold the sight of your Witcher who is very visibly covered in something that is definitely not guts. But most certainly came from said guts of some unlucky creature.

"What threw up on you this time?" You ask, as he's about to give you a probable vividly disturbing answer, you hold your hand up to shush him.

"You know what, never mind."

He laughs at that as he slings something off the side of his shoulder, without warning the grotesque decapitated head of a rock troll slumps to the grass with a thud. The nasty fucker staring blankly into your ruby colored eyes while it's pale tongue slides out of its mouth, black inky bubbles of blood and saliva seeping out from its slacked jaw. You hiss at it before briskly gliding up into a standing position where you then take a few steps back.

"What the fuck Geralt! I was having a very nice and relaxing moment before you dropped that nice little present way too close for comfort." You sass at him while you fold your arms over your chest, he simply smiles, amused that he's annoyed you.

"You don't like my gift?" He muses with a cocky smirk upon his dirty face.

"Maybe if I was an orc, you got the wrong species, love. Uh, but hey...good work on not getting eaten alive."

"Whatever it takes to come back to you." He quips, you rolling your eyes at his adorable sarcasm.

"Alright troll slayer, I think you should take a dip in the river. I mean what is even on you it looks like brown chunks of....oh god is that cow?" You grimace in disgust once again, every so slightly leaning into him to take a better look at what's actually coating his leather armor.

"I truly have no idea. And I will take your kind suggestion lest we have wolves hunting us in the wee hours of the morning, like little angry ghosts." He replies with a nod before walking past you and stripping himself of his black leather armor.

He drops it in the grass as he quickly pulls his dark under shirt over his head where he promptly abandons it by a nearby rock. You don't even realize how hard core you're staring at him right now while you subconsciously bite your lower lip as your gaze travels from his bare shoulders to his chiseled torso. He's got an abundance of scars in various parts of his body and his muscles are as hard as stone. This is nothing you haven't seen before but still, Geralt knows how to put on a show, whether he knows he's doing it or not.

He slides his boots off and as he's casually unbuttoning his trousers does he finally look up to catch your lustful gaze. He smirks as you stare on boldly at his half naked self, a blissfully dumb smile upon your face.

"I could think of a couple ways we could spend the evening and right now my love you are just...a lot." Geralt keeps eye contact with you as he continues to unbutton his pants, he slides them down his god-like body until he's finally standing in the summer evening as naked as the day he was born.

He gives you a charming smile before turning and walking into the river to clean himself off of all the troll innards. He goes beneath the water before resurfacing once again, in the meantime you sit yourself onto the river bank and smile to yourself at the delicious sight of your glistening Witcher while he washes himself clean of all puke, blood, sweat, and whatever else is coating his skin. Suddenly all goes quiet and you can't see him above the water anymore, but you can see how his form is on a path for your legs that are dangling in the river. Quickly you pull your legs from the rushing stream just as Geralt resurfaces directly in front of you.

"You were not about to drag my ass into the depths, these are my only dry clothes." You halfheartedly whine, a small chuckle escaping you as Geralt rests his muscled arms upon the riverbank.

"Then take them off." He gives you an inviting look as you raise an eyebrow at his boldness.

He just smiles adoringly at you from the riverside, silently begging you to shed your clothing to come join his bum in the water. With a shake of your head, you stand up and tug off both of your boots, throwing them near Geralt's armor. Then you peel off your loose grey top that was conveniently all that was covering your top half from the eyes of the world. You look down at Geralt who's golden eyes have not left your body once, a giant blissful smirk playing at the corner of his soft lips as you give him a show.

You throw him a wink before sensually unlacing your pants, those things abruptly falling to the grass in a black puddle at your feet. You stand naked above him on the river bank like a water nymph in all her alluringly bewitching beauty. Playfully teasing him as you dramatically stretch in the warm sunlight, he watches as your arms reach for the clouds, your breasts lifting with the movement. You look absolutely radiant, a goddess come to earth that could make the very stars jealous with your dazzling features.

Your eyes lock with his and without warning you launch yourself over Geralt's snowy head, intent on making a large splash in the process, just to tease him. When you resurface he's rubbing the water from his eyes, you casually swim over to him, a cheeky grin adorning your wet face. Once he's gotten the water out of his eyes he lowers himself into the river until all you can see is his shoulders and his handsome face.

"All clean now?" You ask, tilting your head down to blow some river bubbles.

"Remarkably." Quips your Witcher with a low chuckle.

"Good...now you can take me on the grass of the riverbank, right in front of Roach." You state bluntly, Geralt's golden eyes widening in pleasant surprise as your face suddenly breaks out into a fangy grin.

"She's seen too much already." He jests, nodding in her general direction as she obliviously nibbles away at the grass.

"She's seen worse." You add.

"Fair point." Replies Geralt with a casual shrug.

You lower your face into the water, bringing it back up just as quickly before you spit a line of cold water right onto Geralt's cheek. He shuts his eyes as he takes your assault like a champ, letting you have your fun for the time being cause in a couple minutes he'll have you screaming his name into the afternoon breeze. Once all the water has left your mouth do you finally stand up and glide over to your patient lover. He watches you the whole time, keeping his sights onto your beaming face, although he's not unnoticing of how the water only conceals your bellybutton and your delightful treasure below.

"Hopefully no one stops by for a drink." You state with a small laugh as you stand in front of him.

He looks down at you with a soft smile gracing his kissable lips, you raise your hand up and let it trail down the side of his arm in a casually intimate gesture. He watches in content silence as you touch the skin of his scarred forearm, all the way down until you reach his hand where you then open your palm out for him to take. He does so without question, knowing exactly what your intended plans are for the both of you next. With a seductive bite of your lip, do you lead Geralt to the side of the river bank were your little camp is set up.

You let go of his hand and lift yourself up onto the soft grass where you stood not even five minutes ago. As you're seated, you turn around to face Geralt who's doing the same. You quickly bite the inside of your cheek when your eyes are known to the delicious sight of is hardened member glistening in the beams of sunlight through the nearby trees. He falls to his knees as he crawls over to you in the grass. When he reaches your closed bent legs he gives you a pleading look. Asking for your permission to continue, you smirk at him and slowly part your legs to his great delight.

You lean back on your elbows as his large form covers you from the sun, his hands land on either side of your face as his member grazes against your inner thigh. He's instantly attacking your lips in a heated embrace, pulling a moan from your lips as he takes this opportunity to stick his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues dancing in the darkness, he carefully leans himself onto one forearm as his other hand travels down the side of your body where he then parts your legs further apart for better access.

You can feel as he guides his cock to your slick entrance likes he's done this a hundred times before. Once he's found his mark does he then slowly push into you, you let out a breathless gasp at the uncomfortable sensation sliding into your wetness. He lifts his face a couple inches from yours to make sure you're doing okay and that he isn't hurting you too much. You look into his concerned eyes as you try to hide your slight discomfort, you've done this so many times before, it's just Geralt can be a lot to handle and you need a second.

Leaning up to give him a chaste kiss you find his eyes once again as a blissful smile appears onto your stunning face. Confirming that you've adjusted accordingly and it's time to pick up the pace. He ever so carefully does he thrust into you once again, starting off slow so you can prepare yourself for when he goes faster. Your hands claw at his muscular back as his head falls to your shoulder.

"I'm not a fragile maiden, fuck me Geralt...I can take it." You practically growl in his ear, sending chills down his spine as a cocky smile appears onto his handsome face.

"You're ready now?" He teases as he pecks you on the cheek, you turn to glare at him.

"Shut up, let's make a goddamn dent in the side of this bank." You rasp out as he begins to pick up the pace, heeding to your confident command.

He pounds in and out of you in a beautifully pleasurable rhythm that's sending you into a flurry of whimpers and moans at the sensational contact of his cock inside you. Your body feels electric with each new thrust that he sends deep into your womanhood, as he bottoms out every time. A dazed smile finds its way onto your parted lips at the sounds of Geralt's own grunts and staggered breaths.

He pushes you into the grass as he lays atop your shimmering body, his hips doing a fantastic job at keeping your legs apart as he thrusts into you over and over again. You're to out of to even think of wrapping your legs around his body, all that you're able to manage is a tight grasp onto his right arm as your other hand is clawing at the ground for some support.

The sweet sounds of skin on skin contact dissipates throughout the evening breeze. All of it lost to the roar of the river and yours and Geralt's moaning. Your as wet as the water below you as he slides in and out of you with ease. Sending waves of pleasure into your hot core, it's gradually building up with every new thrust he's throwing at you. When you turn your head to the side to get a better look at him, you can tell how concentrated his face is as more grunts subconsciously escape from his lips, he's on his way to paradise.

The building of your own pleasure rises every time he hits your sweet spot until you can't take it anymore and all at once your orgasm hits you like an arrow in the chest. Sending euphoric waves of pure bliss pulsating throughout your entire being as your walls close in around his hardness.

"Ah fuck Geralt!" You scream in ecstasy as another moan slips from your throat, "Geralt! Uh...ahhh oh my fuuuck!"

He relentlessly continues to pound into you as he chases his own high in the midst of you cuming. It's sending more shock waves into your sensitive clit with lack of a break. But you don't have time to care as another orgasm begins to build inside of you once more with every full thrust of his manhood into your dripping entrance. Due to him being a Witcher and all, heavily contributes to his high stamina, but luckily for him you're not entirely human yourself and can keep up with his lack of exhaustion.

More whimpers fall from your lips as he kisses the side of your sweaty cheek in a small act of appreciation for how well you're doing. He understands he's big and how he doesn't get tired easily, so he's rather blessedly grateful for you as a partner who can take him so well. Suddenly he lets out a string of curses mixed in with your name here and there as he releases his load into your aching womanhood. You cuming right after him for the second time today as you let out a pleasurable scream.

"Ohhh fuck Geralt...ohhh fuuuckk."

He gives you a couple more ending thrusts for good measure before he pulls himself out of you and lays at your side in a sweaty heap of heavily breathing Witcher. You can feel as his cum drips out of you and into the grass that's lightly caressing your legs. You're breathing heavily and your inner thighs feel sore as you lay here ever grateful for the cool wind that fans your swollen entrance and sweaty body.

You look up to the blue sky and watch as great puffy clouds roll by, a single falcon gliding on the current, completely oblivious to the smell of sex lingering in the air near you two. You turn your attention to Geralt who's watching the bird of prey fly high into the clouds.

"You think anyone heard us?" You furrow your brows in wonder.

"Some squirrels, probably a bird or two." Replies Geralt nonchalantly as he continues to breath heavily.

"Well I'm glad nothing bothered us, I would have gouged their eyes out if a single person disturbed us." You mutter, a flash of fire in your scarlet eyes.

"Oh Y/N, my ever gentle flower." Muses Geralt with a content sigh as he props himself up onto his elbow to have a better view of you. Smiling at him you go to do the same.

"I can be gentle." You laugh out half defensively, knowing full well that is not entirely true.

"Half the scratch marks on my back are your doing my dear." Replies Geralt with a kind smile as you playfully roll your eyes at him.

"Well, that's not completely my fault." You sass back as you slide yourself closer to him. The two of you now inches apart in the soft grass, he studies your face for a moment, really taking you all in.

"What's on your mind." You ask while playing with the ends of his silver hair. His eyebrows furrow for a second before he relaxes again, deciding to lay both you and himself back down on the riverside grass. He pulls you in close, enough that your top half can now lay comfortably upon his muscular chest and shoulder. You snake an arm over his torso as your head rests nicely upon his strong shoulder blade, your faces so close. His gaze keeps to the clouds above as yours watches him search for an answer.

"I think I may need new clothes." He finally confesses after a short while, you lightly chuckle at his blunt realization.

"What? No. I love the smell of death on you. It's very sexy." You add, sarcasm clear in your voice as you subconsciously trace the scared flesh of his torso.

"Thanks." He mumbles as his free hand finds your arm that's currently draped over his stomach, he trails his fingers upon your skin before resting his hand on your forearm, "The next village over, I'm trading that troll's head for enough coin to get us close to Blaviken...then we'll see what monster there might bring us some better gold."

"I've never been, but I know of a wizard who lives there in some fancy tower all alone, don't know his name or anything. Who knows what kinda shit he gets up to these days, I can't imagine it's anything pleasant or humane." You mutter into the breeze, you'd made sure to keep your distance from any mages or wizards for as long as you could after something caused you to finally become fed up with them.

You don't adheredly have any standing beef with any of them in particular, in fact you had been very close with one, but that was such a long time ago. It almost feels like it could have been a past life. It's just you've lived long enough to know that people like such are usually superstitious bastards who'll believe any prophecy that destiny may conjure up for them.

They do as they please and their use of magic is not always used with good intentions. Although one may say due to your father being a sorcerer and all, would make you part mage, but on the contrary. As far as your abilities go in the tricky area of sorcery and it's mysterious being with how it can be inherited from parent to child. Your capabilities run a specific line of nothing but whatever part vampire runs through your veins. Nothing more, nothing less. Unlike with mages in their give and take, you can simply bend your lighting to your will whenever you call it into your vessel via the dark gift.

That being said, you've seen the atrocities that mages and wizards alike can commit when given the opportunity, so for that, you don't fuck around with them, nor use your deadly gift very often. Figuring you're already dangerous enough as it is, people never seeming to want to keep you around for too long. Perhaps that's why you and Geralt are perfect for each other, if the world won't have you, at least you have one another's company.

"I know of your dislikes for wizards, but we...well I, need new clothes. And there's surely some coin to be given in that place." Whispers Geralt as he holds you close, you let out an annoyed sigh, earning a small laugh from the man beneath you.

"Dammit you know I can't say no to another adventure, wizard or not, I wanna see what Blaviken has to offer us."

-

Tagged:  @notahappytree​ @ashleyforeverareject​ @sokkasdarling​ @kmuir1​(@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work)