#brother why the gentle shoulder touch and lingering eye contact

[pheyphem]

if you asked me to guess what dan is saying in this screenshot i guarantee you my LAST guess would be that he’s telling phil he just got him with a prank

[cloudcountry]

the kissing experiment

Genre/Tropes: Practice kissing?

Summary: The Leech brothers request something of you. Won't you help them learn what kissing is?

Author's Comments: hi this is an arospec ace person writing about people kissing. it was a fun little (AWKWARD) experiment so the title also applies to me!!

~~~~~

There was nothing you could think of that would have prompted the Leech brothers to ask this of you. Maybe they found out about your attraction to the both of them, or maybe they were just using you as a silly little plaything to experiment on until they got bored. Maybe it was both. Whatever led them to your dorm this late in the afternoon didn’t matter now, as they were standing right there on your porch, awaiting your response to their proposition like a hunter that had just cornered their prey. A chill went down your spine as they continued to stare, lips stretched into wide grins that couldn’t have looked more sketchy if they tried.

“You...want to experiment with kissing?” you ask, flabbergasted at the unexpected question, “Why in Twisted Wonderland would you ask that? And to me?”

“Come onnnn, Shrimpy. It’s a yes or no question.” Floyd giggles, tongue poking out from between his teeth, “We don’t have all afternoon. you know.”

“Indeed, Floyd is right. It would be a shame if we came all the way here with our humble request only to receive an unsatisfactory answer.” Jade sighs, eyes sharp as his expression fills with mock sadness.

“I never said no.” you mumble, eyes darting to an uninteresting crack in the floorboards to avoid looking at either of them, “I was just asking my own questions.”

“Oh?” Jade hums, index finger pushing your chin upwards until you make eye contact with him again, “I take it that means you’re interested?”

“Maybe I am.” you shoot back, the desperate urge to catch them off guard after coming to you with this ridiculous proposal flaring up.

It works. Floyd cackles beside his brother, eyes narrowing as he stalks closer. Jade looks surprised for a brief moment before chuckling politely, letting you go with a gentle brush of his thumb against your cheek.

“Well Little Pearl, it’s only natural to seek out the object of one’s curiosity, is it not?” Jade coos in a voice as soft as a fuzzy, comforting blanket, “We only want a bit of your time. Won’t you offer us the pleasure of practicing land dwelling affection?”

“Yeah Shrimpy! Don't be mean.” Floyd snickers, shoving his face closer to yours and his brother out of the way in the process.

“Besides...we know you’re interested.” Jade chuckles, taking your hand as if it was made of glass, “We’ve seen the glances you send our way. We’ve seen you staring at the Lounge. You’re hardly sneaky, Little Pearl.”

“And that’s why Shrimpy got caaaught!” Floyd laughs, nuzzling your cheek as his arms snaked around your waist.

“So what do you say?” Jade leans closer, thumb stroking the back of your hand.

“There’s no need to guilt trip.” you lean back, the proximity of the Leech brothers almost suffocating, “You already know my answer.”

“Oh, but we don’t. You could turn us away and break our little hearts!” Floyd quips, pulling away from you just to cross his arms and pout.

Finally free of Floyd’s grip, you back up a bit. They allow you a bit of space, but still stand tall on your front porch, an immovable wall. Shaking your head, you sigh deeply. It’s almost exhausting when they decide to play these games, teasing you as if they aren’t painfully aware of your interest in them.

“If it’s kissing you want, it’s kissing you’ll get.” you say, beckoning Floyd closer.

He bounces right over, looking like a puppy about to receive a treat. You cup his face gently with your hands, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his forehead. The touch lingers for a few beats as the tension from Floyd’s shoulder melts away, his wound up attitude ebbing away like the tides of the Coral Sea. The second you pull away his wide eyes crinkle at the corners, all of the excited energy he had before rushing back into his body.

“I got a kiss from Shrimpy!” Floyd cackles, brushing the spot you kissed with his gloved fingers. His sharp teeth are on display as he sticks his tongue out at Jade, wrapping his other arm tightly around your waist again.

“Floyd, be nice.” you sigh, coaxing Jade closer by opening your arms, “Jade, c’mere.”

“Oh? Feeling bold, are we?” Jade coos, swooping into your arms without hesitation.

Instead of answering, you hook your finger under his tie and pull him closer. His body thumps against yours, and if it weren’t for the grip Floyd had on your waist, you’re sure you would have fallen over. Jade looks surprised at how quickly you’d yanked him, and you tried not to let his shock make you too smug. They were known to turn things on people just when they had the advantage (and you knew that better than most people.)

“Can I kiss you here?” you ask, swiping a thumb across his bottom lip.

“By all means.” Jade sighs, leaning into your touch.

You slot your lips against his almost immediately, grabbing Jade’s shoulder with your free hand. His hands find their place on your waist, and he kisses you back with a force that’s powerful, yet gentle. You can vaguely hear Floyd whining beside you, his incessant tugging on your shirt doing nothing to dispel the haze you find yourself in. Jade’s lips are soft—softer than the gentle beams of sunlight caressing your face as the day slips into darkness.

He’s warmer than them, too.

With a shuddering gasp, the two of you part. Eyes wide and lips plump from the kiss, you slowly let your finger slip away from his tie. Jade chuckles at your state, lifting your hand to his lips, and you can do nothing but watch as he presses his lips to the skin while staring holes into you.

“Thank you for that experience, Little Pearl.” he murmurs, kiss-bruised lips still brushing delicately against your skin, “It was most delightful.”

“Heyyy, Shrimpy! I said, don’t forget about me!” Floyd huffs, yanking you more and more insistently towards him, “I want another kiss!”

“If Floyd gets another, I would appreciate another one as well.” Jade smiles, tilting his head as you turn your attention to his brother.

“Yes, yes, sure.” you say, attempting to placate them.

Except it doesn’t work entirely, because Floyd is still grumbling and tugging. You would rather not have him tumble into a bad mood, so you turn to him and yank him into you by the undone tie, just like you did with his brother.

Floyd is far more all consuming, his teeth clinking painfully against yours. You wince but he doesn’t get softer, instead opting to giggle and press his hands into your waist. With the way he holds you and kisses you longer and longer and longer, you’d almost think he was jealous of Jade for taking so much time with you. The thought makes you want to roll your eyes, but you’re unable to spend much more time in your own head as his nails dig into your side and you’re thrown back into reality. That reality being that one of his hands has found its way to your hair, his nails scratching the back of hand in just the right way and for once you actually find yourself relaxing. It’s a beautiful juxtaposition that leaves you smiling against Floyd’s chapped lips.

You pull away with a soft pat on his shoulder and a smile. He smiles back, tongue poking out from between the rows of sharp teeth, but for once you aren’t on edge. Floyd looks so excited, his expression reminding you of the look he has when he dances.

“That was nice, Shrimpy.” Floyd laughs, running his tongue along his teeth, “Gimme another one.”

“Patience, Floyd.” Jade murmurs, whisking you away from his brother, “It’s my turn.”

“No fair! But I want another kiss!” Floyd pouts, reaching to snatch you away.

You sigh, shaking your head at the sibling rivalry unfolding around you.

Oh dear, what have you done?

[kaisacobra]

Relationship HCs - Mindy Meeks-Martin & Anika Kayoko

Summary: What would a relationship between you, Mindy and Anika be like?

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.1k

♡ HOW YOU MET

You became friends with Chad early in college, taking a few classes in common.

Chad would always mention you in conversations, talking about how you had been nice enough to go on a campus tour with him, not mentioning the Woodsboro events like other classmates had done.

Mindy even made a joke about her brother having a little crush, but he made it clear that he wasn't exactly your type. That piqued Mindy's curiosity, but she didn't do anything about it because she had just started dating Anika and that was her main focus.

Everything changed at Chad's birthday party, however.

Being one of his best friends, you were obviously invited to the small celebration dinner at one of his favorite pizza places.

And everyone was dying to know about you, since you were the only person outside of the group that Chad let near him (aside from Ethan, but he was his roommate).

When you arrived, most of them thought you were a nice person (Sam was still deciding if you were trustworthy or not) but Mindy and Anika? Oh, their heads were playing Bound - Ponderosa Twins Plus One.

Anika was more subtle about her attraction than Mindy (who couldn't stop staring at you all night) but she also felt something magnetic about you.

You didn't even notice it on the day. The two of them had been introduced as girlfriends so it was almost out of the question that there might be some interest on their part.

You only found out days into the relationship how much they had adored you from the first time they laid eyes on you.

♡ HOW THE RELATIONSHIP STARTED

They had this conversation immediately after the birthday was over.

Like I said, Mindy hadn't exactly been sudden + I think Anika is very good at interpreting signs from people, especially if they are close to her.

It was a very calm conversation as they are both open-minded people and their biggest concern was that you might not think the same.

They started in a gentle way. Anika would ask you about your major in college here, Mindy would recommend a horror movie there, all in cautious steps.

And then "happy coincidences" started happening frequently. Mindy had to deliver something to Chad at the end of some class? Why not take advantage of it and call you to grab a coffee with her and Anika?

And when you were with them, all interactions were on a fine line between friendship affections or something more. Constant compliments, hugs that lasted a few seconds too long, touches that lingered.

And the more you seemed comfortable and seemed to enjoy those acts, the more they did and intensified them. Hugs turned into kisses on the cheek and a touch on the shoulder turned into hands on your thighs.

No words of confession needed to be exchanged between you, such was the connection the three of you shared. You just knew how each other felt and it all seemed so natural.

One day, without ceremony, the two of them asked you to become their girlfriend in the middle of a picnic they had organized and, as much as it was expected that you would accept, their hearts raced as you said your answer.

You said yes, of course, and they were so happy that they dropped you in an awkward hug on the spread towel, peppering your face with little kisses to show how much they liked you.

After they pulled away and you could get a better look into their eyes, you exchanged a long-awaited kiss, full of passion and affection. Anika went first, being the more impatient of the two, but soon you kissed Mindy too and the two exchanged a kiss between them as well.

That was the official start of your relationship.

♡ HOW THE RELATIONSHIP WORKS

There is no option to dislike physical contact in this relationship. Their prominent love language is touch, and that's pretty clear to everyone.

They are not shy with PDA, but they may tone it down depending on how comfortable you are with it. However, they always need to have at least one hand on your arm at all times.

Your favorite types of dates are movie nights that take place at Anika's apartment (because you and Mindy live in dorms), although art workshops are a program you love to do together as well.

Anika made beaded bracelets with all of your initials and other decorations. She pouts if she notices you or Mindy aren't wearing them.

Going back to the movie nights, Anika lies on both of your laps every time, while Mindy slings her arms around your shoulders to bring you closer.

However, if there's a scary movie on and you get scared easily, the two of them will have you in the middle of a tight hug. Mindy will try to calm you down by telling you facts about the behind the scenes while Anika holds your hand.

I can see them both really enjoying doing those tiktok couple trends. Their favorite one was when you filled each other's faces with kiss marks from Anika's red lipstick.

They are your BIGGEST hype girls on earth. They always love to compliment you and won't let you think anything negative about yourself.

But if you do, they are great listeners and will want to have a better understanding of how you're feeling, thinking of ways on how to make you feel more confident about yourself.

You guys are the most judgmental throuple in the world. One of you will say "you won't believe what that person did." and for the next few minutes, you'll gossip together about it.

Usually "babe" is the most used pet name between you, but sometimes Anika calls you "Angel" and Mindy calls you "Darling" (fun fact, the first time she called you that, it was a joke, but it sounded so good that she still calls you darling occasionally).

You don't have a fixed position in bed when you go to sleep. Anika likes to stay between you most of the time but that can change depending on how you and Mindy are feeling on the day.

Especially when Mindy wakes up in the middle of the night with nightmares about Woodsboro and you and Anika need to hold her in your arms and assure her that she is safe and well.

Overall, you have a great relationship with clear displays of affection and great communication. 

(Ps: Mindy loves to tease Chad, saying she has two partners while he has none).

[milkypompon]

Gentle Nights

summary: y/n is in pain from their monthly cycle. Luckily, the ragbros are here to help!

genre: modern!au, roommates, fluff, flirty kaeya, shy diluc

word count: 1084 

With niceties aside, you asked the two bickering Ragnvindr brothers why they bothered to dorm together if they constantly butted heads. Not to mention how their deep pockets could easily afford an apartment in all the major cities of Teyvat.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have their golden family lineage to become a nepotism baby. Hence, why you had to room with not one, but two people to ease up on the rent.

The more hot-tempered of the two muttered about how their father wanted them to find a common ground before they inherited the Dawn Winery company.

Your eye twitched. Damn these rich brats.

That was last semester.

Now, if Kaeya or Diluc went missing, you wouldn’t leave a single stone unturned in the world to find them.

Your eyes danced along the slow-burn romance novel recently recommended to you by your honey-sweet friend, Lisa. She slid it to you across the table with a wink.

Being on the couch bundled up with too many fluffy blankets and reading a smutty book that Barbatos forbade anyone saw was the only reprieve you had the past few days.

You cursed as you doubled over in pain from the cramps.

Gentle tinkering of keys from the front door forced you to shove the book under Kaeaya’s blanket you borrowed – a fuzzy little thing decorated with twinkling snowflakes.

“You’re still awake?”

Speak of the devil.

You giggled softly. “It’s only 8 pm. I’m not a grandma.”

A flash of red caught your eye near the kitchen.

“I beg to differ,” Diluc snorted. “You read your book, ate Pocky, and napped repeatedly. Need I mention that you did that for most of the day?”

You rolled your eyes and pouted. “Try having a uterus for once, you dick bearing man.”

“Right, right.” He opened the microwave with a soft click. “And luckily for you, I cooked dinner.”

You smiled confidently. “That’s why you’re my favorite Ragnvindr!”

Kaeya toed his shoes off and gingerly placed them on the rack, remembering how much you hated it when he tracked in dirt. The last time he did, you forced him to mop the floors and scrub the soles of his shoes with an old toothbrush.

“I didn’t like what just came out of your mouth,” he smirked.

“And where has your mouth been? Your shift at Angel’s Share ended a while ago.” Your eyebrow quirked up.

“Forever painting me as the manwhore...”

You inhaled sharply when you noticed a plastic bag that dangled behind Kaeya.

“You really should treat me kinder, princess! It’s your fault I’m home later than usual.”

He tossed the bag to you. Inside was a pack of chocolates enough to feed a neighborhood of children during Halloween. But of course it wasn’t to give away, but to snack on until you were satiated and done with your monthly cycle.

With a sheepish smile, you hobbled over to Kaeya with a blanket around your shoulders. “You may have knocked Diluc to number two of my favorite Ragnvindrs,” you murmured into his neck as you wrapped your arms around him. Spearmint and a lingering smell of alcohol enveloped you.

Diluc cleared his throat. “Last time I checked there were only two of us. So it looks like I’m in last place.”

To Kaeya’s disappointment you pulled away first. He felt a warm wave of embarrassment at his realization.

You tossed the blanket to the couch and walked over to Diluc. “Well, there's your dad too.”

“You did not just say that,” the brothers exclaimed in unison.

Their reaction egged you even further. “With him on the roster, Mr. R may have just made it to the top of the list.”

The red-head turned around and quickly hoisted you up by the waist. Before you managed to realize that you were up in the air, he plopped you down in a chair.

Diluc wrung his wrists and sat next to you. “Eat up before the food gets cold again.”

Your eyes widened at his sudden display of physical contact. Kaeya was usually the one with touches that lingered on for too long. But after knowing him for months, you realized he seemed to crave skinship from everyone. So, you thought nothing much of it.

But Diluc?

Kaeya waving a fork-skewered chunk of the Pile Em’ Up sandwich pulled you back from your thoughts. “I’ll take the first bite if you don’t mind.”

The crunch of the crust and the sight of the cheese stretching made your stomach grumble.

“Hey, get out of here!” You huffed and snatched the fork from his hands. “Take a shower will you, Kaeya? The smell of wine is stuck to you like a second skin.”

With a swift tug at the collar of his shirt, Kaeya was left bare-chested. “Well if you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked…” He purred.

You scrunched your nose from the slight tremble in your core.

It’s the hormones. You told yourself.

Kaeya let out a soft laugh and kissed the crown of your head. “Lighten up will you? You better have a smile on your face and Twilight on the TV by the time I’m done showering.”

Before you knew it, his long strides brought him to the bathroom, leaving you and Diluc alone.

Diluc gave you a small smile and pushed the plate closer to you. “Finish this first because Archons knows how long we’ll be watching.”

–

The sound of conversations on the television only served as white noise now. As the hours ticked by, your body melted into Kaeya’s chest, the mountain of blankets pushing both of you down into the couch. His lithe fingers massaged your scalp, teetering you into the brink of sleep.

Diluc scooted closer to you and lightly touched your thigh. “Y/n’s asleep again, huh?”

You pried your eyes open, meeting his radiant red ones. “Surely not with you nagging.”

He pulled away quickly. “I apologize—”

You grabbed his wrist. “Keep your hand there. You’re warm.”

Kaeya snorted at his brother’s utter cluelessness with your advances.

Diluc drew small circles with his hand, slowly being accustomed to the comforting warmth the three of you shared.

–

Epilogue

Something pricked Kaeya’s back. He carefully peeled away from your sleeping form, snickering about you looking like a small kitten, and reached behind him.

A book.

Specifically, your borrowed novel from Lisa.

He read the title and tossed it to his brother with a smirk.

Diluc’s eyes widened. His cheeks blooming into a blush.

–

a/n: getting back into writing again! I love love love soft kaeya and diluc.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) Crosshair x Reader: Chilly

Warnings: blizzard, cold, Crosshair being grumpy for thirty seconds, some cuddles, and some kissy-kissy.

   Your teeth chattered and body shuddered in futile attempts to warm itself.  Even though the fire your rescuer had built emanated warmth, you hadn’t felt much of a change in the last several minutes laying in the cold sleeping bag beside it.  The rickety ice-fishing shelter was a haven from the snowstorm outside, but you weren’t out of the woods yet, so to speak.

  Getting lost in a blizzard during a mission sure had its downsides.  You were fortunate that Crosshair had found you when he did.

   Speaking of the man, you glanced up as Crosshair ducked into the doorway, pulling the wooden door shut behind him.  He removed his helmet and set it down on the icy floor before throwing another log onto the fire.  The roar of its flames was so pleasant.  An ache settled in your cold hands as you let them hover in range of the warmth.  You almost didn’t notice how Crosshair started removing his armor.  Almost.

   “Cross, w-what are you d-d-doing?”

   Without looking at you, he unbuckled the last of his armor until he was just in his blacks and boots.  “I commed the others to report that I found you.  Tech said you were exposed to the cold for too long.”

   “Sure f-feels like it,” you muttered.  “What d-d-do we do?”

   “We need to get you warm.”  With expression gruff, he climbed over until he was right beside your sleeping bag and peeled back the cover.  His intense gaze watched you expectantly.  “Take off a few layers.”

   “O-okay.”  This time, the stutter wasn’t from the teeth-chattering.  You reached up a cold hand to the collar of your heavy coat, fingers fumbling around the zipper.  The action was difficult as it was with your hands being numbed from the cold, but having him watch you like a hawk didn’t help.

   “Quickly,” he snapped.

   “Sorry, i-it’s a little hard to move.”

   He sighed, but despite his earlier display of impatience, his hand was gentle as he pushed yours away and set to work on removing your coat.  He helped you shrug your way out of it. You were able to pull the sweater off over your head, leaving you in the tank top and pair of leggings you had underneath your gear.  Goosebumps bloomed along the bare skin of your arms, and another shudder racked your body.

   Crosshair wasted no time in climbing into the sleeping bag, pulling the cover up over the both of you, though he hesitated when you drew closer to his lean form.  You were desperate for warmth at that point, but you didn’t want to make it too uncomfortable for him.

   You peeked up at him shyly from where your head rested against his chest.  “M-mind if I…?”

   “Do what you need to.”

   You shifted to tangle your legs with his and breathed a sigh of relief.  Your one arm wrapped around his torso, hand accidentally brushing a patch of skin left exposed by the hem of his blacks riding up.  He jolted from your ice-cold touch with a hiss.

   “Sorry,” you mumbled.  Your heart began to thud wildly when he reached for your hand and tucked it under his blacks to place it on the hot skin there.  “Thank you,” you breathed. Crosshair fidgeted for a moment as he got used to the temperature.

   Neither of you spoke, so you listened to the soothing sounds around you as your body began to heat up.  The campfire crackled and snapped nearby.  It cast shadows on the old walls of the shelter.  If you listened hard enough, the howling winds outside could be heard.  What fascinated you the most was the steady drumming of Crosshair’s heart inside his chest.  His breathing hadn’t slowed, signalling that he wasn’t completely relaxed.

   You hated the thought of making him uneasy.  Over the time you’d spent with the Bad Batch, the snarky sharpshooter had grown on you.  Well, he wasn’t always snarky.  He sometimes acted like that when it came to newcomers, or once in a while he’d throw in a sarcastic remark to tease his brothers.  Most of the time, he was just quiet.  You had learned to read his body language, and you could tell at the moment that something occupied his mind.

   “You okay?”  You were finally able to stop the chatter of your teeth.

   “Next time, report back to the ship when you’re told,” he grouched.  “We didn’t know what to do when we lost connection to your comm.  Hunter nearly had a heart attack.”

   That was Crosshair code for, “I nearly had a heart attack.”

   “I tried,” you argued.  “My comm was broken, remember?  I couldn’t hone in on the ship’s signal.  My tracks were snowed over, and I got lost.”

   Crosshair went silent again for a moment as he brooded over it.  There really hadn’t been much you could do after escaping the snow beast other than remain where you were and hope the others would find you.  So that’s what you did.

   “Perhaps next time you should let one of us come with you,” he said curtly.

   He did have a point there.  Maybe if you hadn’t gone off alone in the first place, things might’ve turned out differently.  But you had insisted that you didn’t need to be watched.

   Oh, the sweet irony.

   Crosshair huffed, seeing that he had won the argument.  His chest rose and fell with the action.  As much as you wanted to be irritated, you didn’t have it in you.  Not while you were laying in his arms with your face buried in the shoulder of his blacks.  Guilt seemed to be the only emotion other than relief that you were capable of at the moment.

   “I’m sorry.”

   The apology was quiet, laced with humility as you abandoned your pride and simply let yourself be grateful.  Crosshair had braved the snowstorm to find you, after all.  He was doing everything he could to make sure you were safe, allowing you to cling to him with ice-cold hands and feet by the fire.

   He shifted a little, draping an arm around you.  Despite the fact that you were already pressed against him, the action felt more intimate.  He was finally holding you in return, actively helping you to get warm.  You took it as his way of accepting the apology, and fortunately, he didn’t stay on the topic any longer.

   “Are you doing any better?” he asked, glancing down at you.  His eyes didn’t hold the same irritation as before.  They even softened a bit as you met them.

   “Yeah, much better,” you said.  “It’s nice to be able to feel my fingers again.”  You flexed the digits experimentally against his skin, and Crosshair’s breath hitched.  His arm had subconsciously tightened around you.  The unexpected reaction piqued your interest.  This time, you let your hand run just a little farther up past the hem of his blacks.  Crosshair inhaled suddenly.

   “Does that bother you?” you murmured, glancing up to try and read his expression.  Though his face showed the same indifference it usually did, his eyes met yours with smoldering intensity.

   “No.”

   Without breaking eye contact, you did it again, letting your hand roam farther up his side.  You felt the expansion of his ribcage as he inhaled deeply.  As it contracted, you released a breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.  For several minutes, the two of you stayed like that.  Your palm smoothed across the length of his side, fingertips brushing over a few prominent scars.  Your skin had gone from cold to warm to searing in Crosshair’s arms.  Did he feel it too?  Did he notice the pounding in your chest?  His heart had picked up its speed.

   He studied your expression like a hawk as his hand came up to brush your shoulder.  It was a light touch, delicate, as if he was testing the waters.  His eyes flickered to the spot before returning to your gaze.  The tension was unmistakable.  

   Unavoidable.  

   Irresistible.

   Crosshair took in your reaction; how your eyes fluttered closed and how lips parted slightly.  You were completely at ease with his touch, and you could feel that he had finally relaxed into yours.  With eyes shut, you felt his hand run down the length of your arm.  His warm breath fanned your face.

   “Cross,” you sighed.

   Both of you had pulled the rubber band as far as it could go.  With your utterance of his name, it finally snapped, and his mouth was on yours.  Heat exploded in your chest at the realization that he was kissing you.  The hand that you let linger at his waist clenched around  his blacks.  Crosshair shifted to lean on his elbow, bracing his other arm beside your head on the pillow, as he kissed you harder.  He could appear cold, calculated...but his kisses weren’t.  They were scorching.

   When you separated, so many questions flew through your mind as he gazed at you.

   Was this a dream?  Why, oh why, did his lips feel so warm and good against yours?  Was this a slip-up, or did he feel for you the way you felt for him?

   Only one way to find out.

   “I care about you, Crosshair,” you confessed.  He didn’t withdraw from you or give a look of annoyance, which was a good sign.  It was only when he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead that you fully understood.  You beamed and nuzzled farther into the crook of his neck as he got settled on his side again.  The sleeping bag had become a cocoon of warmth, though his arms still encircled you for good measure.

   His heartbeat had gone steady.  His breathing slowed.  And you relished the minutes of peace until the storm cleared and the others were sure to find you.

[velvetcloxds]

AND WHATEVER COMES AFTER THAT| K.M.

Pairing: Klaus x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1991 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Klaus has been trying to convince the reader to be with him for years, but has always failed. At the end of one of Elijah's peace parties, Y/n finally gives in.

“For the lady…” Rebecca says with a smile, holding out my glass of wine for me.

“Thank you,” I say, taking the glass in my hand before refocusing my gaze on the dancefloor where the last few people are still keeping up with the silly beat of the current 60’s song. “You’d think they would have given up by now.” I say, laughing softly as I point down to where Hailey and Elijah are dancing, attempting to keep a somewhat respectable distance between them. Rebecca smiles and moves to rest her glass on the banister of the balcony.

“You’d also think he’d have officially made a move by now, but my big brother does things in his own little way.” She tells me, smiling still as her eyes linger for a sweet second on Marcel Gerard who is making quite the show of the way he’s twirling around his date, her dress shifting higher up her thigh with every turn. Rebecca scoffs softly, taking another large sip of her drink.

“He’s not the only one.” I say with a raised brow, her glass making a soft clinking noise against her ring when she grips onto her glass tighter, eyes drawn tight to show me she’s not exactly pleased with my statement.

“I don’t know what you’re implying, Y/N, but I’d remind you to think very carefully about what you’re going to say next,” She says and turns to face me, leaning forward to make sure I could hear her. “You may very well be my dearest friend and my brother may very well be completely smitten with you, but I’m not above kicking your ass.” She tells me and though her words would prompt a serious tone, I catch the little smile that slips onto her lips when our eyes meet.

“I have yet to see you try, Rebecca,” I offer in reply, laughing lightly as she shakes her head. “Besides,” I start, taking a sip of wine before handing her my glass. “I’d have to remind you that you’d be ruining your own clothing in the process.” I tell her as I move to do a slow twirl and she gasps softly, taking in the Audrey Hepburn inspired ensemble, the black dress and gloves being something that Rebecca had kept from her time spent in the actual decade. Her shock sinks into a small grin as she looks me over, eyes lingering on the pearl necklace we brought at a secondhand boutique last week.

“You look perfectly in place,” She tells me and nods towards the hallway behind us. “Maybe you could convince my brother to step out of his hole long enough to save you a dance.” She says and squeezes my arm softly as she passes by me, losing the glasses on her way down the stairs where she calmly clears the last few guest from the dancefloor and out the door, waving quickly as she closes the door of the ballroom behind her.

I smile, the music seeming louder somehow now that I’m alone in here and I find myself almost drifting down the stairs. I hum to myself, dancing towards the drink table. Swaying to the rhythm as I start pilling empty platters and used plates together.

“You missed the party,” I say softly, not stopping what I’m doing as I hear him still on the balcony above. “It was quite the turnout.” I add, stepping back from the table to look up at him, his lips tilting into a lopsided grin when he sees me.

“My apologies, love,” He shrugs eyes darkening as they slowly make their way from my lips downwards, lingering for a second on the pearls around my neck before slipping lower and lower, until he clears his throat softly, meeting my gaze in an instant. “I clearly had no idea what I’d be missing out on.” He tells me, voice low as he pulls a hand through his hair.

“Maybe you should come down here and get a better look.” I offer, tone matching his as I step back even more, slowly making my way to the dancefloor where he meets me in mere seconds, hands carefully resting on my waist as I move slowly to sway to the gentle melody, eyes glued to his as he lets out a soft breath.

“You are…” He starts, moving a hand to carefully take hold of mine. “Ravishing,” He whispers, the sound sending an almost electric shiver down my spine as he lifts my hand to his mouth where he places a delicate kiss to my palm, not once breaking eye contact. “Tell me..” He begins, using his teeth to carefully pull the glove away, holding my bare hand tightly in his own as he leads me into a dance. “Why won’t you be mine, Y/n?” He asks, holding me against him as he dips me backwards slowly, carefully turning us together before pulling me up to be but inches from his face. “Why won’t you let me love you?” He asks, keeping hold of my waist as he turns me around in his arms where he nimbly lifts my hand in the air, removing the other glove as he attentively traces the length of my arm until I can feel his skin against mine, the glove dropping soundlessly to the floor as I tilt my head to the side to see him.

“We’re dangerous together,” I tell him, carelessly letting him guide my hands to where he needs them and numbly allowing him to spin me out and then in before once again coming face to face with him. “We’d hurt each other,” I say, moving with him as we move one step forward and one step back, twirling and then repeating. “You’d hurt me.” I say, momentarily leaning back against him halfway through the twirl.

“I would never,” He offers and pauses as well, risking the loss of the rhythm to touch my cheek and gain my attention. “I could never.” He adds and I turn around in his hold.

“That’s what they always say,” I say and move my hands to his shoulders where I lead him into the same steps as earlier. “They always promise me forever,” He holds my waist delicately. “They never mean it.” I tell him, his eyes darkening as he tries to read my emotions.

“I am not them, my love,” His eyebrows knit together as he looks me over. “I will gladly give you forever and always and whatever comes after that. I love you. I burn for you,” He announces simply and I let out a shaky breath. “Can you truly say that you don’t feel the same? Tell me you don’t feel anything at all for me?” He asks, voice raw as he waits for a reply and I shake my head, dropping my hands to the side when he suddenly released me from his hold, looking to the sky as he shakes his head as well.

“Klaus,” I begin, pulling at the pearls to release the necklace from my neck, it along with the very obvious tension in the room making me feel like I’m suffocating. “I do feel the same. I feel everything and more, but it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t do this. I can’t possibly give you the power to hurt me.” I drop the pearls to the floor as I fold my arms around me, the playlist coming to an abrupt stop when the slow song ends.

“I understand,” He says after a moment, looking around the room, eyes scattering through the mess of dirty glasses and plates and coats that were left behind. “We should probably allow the staff to clean this place,” He tells me and forces a slight smile when our eyes meet. “Give me a moment to retrieve your things from upstairs and I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to do that.” I say, guilt filling my heart as I see the hurt in his eyes that he couldn’t possibly hide from me even if he had attempted to do so.

“I know,” He says, picking up the fallen gloves and carefully handing them to me. “I want to.” He says, giving me a soft wink before walking up the stairs.

I let out a shaky breath as I pick up the pearls as well, folding them into the gloves to keep them safe and before my mind could even process the thought, I’m walking up the stairs, following the sound of his heartbeat that leads me to the room he spent the night in hiding away from the guests.

I use my foot to carefully push open the slightly ajar door, Klaus’s silhouette visible at the end of the room where he pushes handfuls of paintbrushes into cups of water as an overturned painting rests against the dresser.

“I couldn’t leave them uncleaned,” He informs me, my own heartbeat probably giving me away. “I got distracted downstairs is all, completely slipped my mind.”

“It’s okay,” I say and he looks at me quickly to nod before going back to his brushes and I walk to the center of the room, pulling at the string to turn on the light and get a better view of everything. “You were painting?” I ask, now noticing not just the one canvas, but a whole collection of them, all scattered and resting against multiple pieces of furniture.

“I felt remarkably inspired.” He comments shyly and I smile.

“By what?” I ask, mindfully reaching to turn around the largest of the canvases, the one I saw first and I can’t prevent the audible gasp that leaves my lips when I see the beautiful medley of colors that he’s somehow managed to create my face with.

“You.” He answers absentmindedly, shrugging slightly as he waves my coat and purse in the air to show me that he’s found it amongst everything in here. I smile, bending down to take it all in, every brushstroke and color, every piece of himself that he used to create every stroke of me.

“This is beautiful, Klaus.” I laugh softly, holding the hand with the gloves to my heart as a sudden rush of emotions run though me.

“The painting is only as beautiful as the muse who inspired it,” He comments simply, looking at me sweetly. “I don’t think I could ever verbally explain how much you mean to me, how much I care, how much you’ve changed me purely my existing. I don’t think I could ever completely fathom how remarkable you are and how extremely lucky I am that by some strange twist of faith I’ve been lucky enough to know you,” He laughs softly as well, smiling sheepishly as he catches my gaze. “I want to live my life with you, and I’d wait however long it takes for you to feel the same.”

“Forever?” I ask, standing up and placing the gloves onto the dresser beside me. He nods.

“And always.” He adds and I smile, the dreadful and fearful feeling in my stomach slowly dissolving.

“What about just one more minute?” I ask and he tilts his head, smiling as I slowly make my way towards him, pausing only for a second before cupping his face in mine. “Thirty seconds,” I say and he holds onto my arms. “Ten seconds,” I whisper, his forehead against mine. I breathe out slowly, nodding when our eyes meet, silently asking for permission before his lips delicately meet mine. My entire body filling with butterflies as he pulls away and I smile. “Let’s get married…” I say and his chest vibrates lightly as a happy laugh fills the air, pulling back slightly just to see me.

“Are you sure?” He asks carefully and I nod, pulling him closer to me again.

“I am yours, Niklaus Mikealson. Forever and always.”

“And whatever comes after that.”

Hi there, more of my work can be found on Wattpad under @mjoubertt. Mxx.

Masterlist

[charles-rxwlands]

the aftermath of 'i love you.'

this is the sequel to my fic how kaz would react to 'i love you.' which was basically all angst. spoiler alert: this is all angst, too.

pairing: kaz brekker/reader but not exactly (??) cause they've broken up so uh

rating: teen

word count: 1.5k (rounded up)

summary: what happened after you said 'i love you,' to kaz

tags: gender neutral!reader, angst, unhappy ending

warnings: swearing, self-deprecating thoughts, and i think that's it? but pls lmk if anything else is needed

read on ao3

a/n: the writing quality of this really went 📉📈📉 but in my defense i wrote most of this while my brother watched tommy innit videos at full volume so ofc i was distracted.

and fyi muzzen is not an oc, he's one of the minor minor characters in soc!

once again, feedback and reblogs are appreciated! hope you enjoy reading <3

Kaz's pov

He watched you from the other side of the room as you blatantly flirted with Muzzen. He had his glass of kvas (Jesper had begged for the club to order the ravkan mead for weeks) in a death grip. You ran your fingers through your hair, and smiled at something Muzzen had said. He tugged lightly on the collar of your jacket, making you laugh softly. Kaz's heart tightened, jealousy settling in his chest.

You looked happy, even as you conversed with the brainless bodyguard who probably couldn't count up to ten. Kaz hadn't been able to make you happy like that. But you had loved him anyway, and he had 'fucked you over', as you'd put it.

I love you.

You're a coward, Brekker.

Kaz let out something in between a sigh and a frustrated grunt. He drained the rest of his drink in one go, and set the glass down more violently than he'd intended. His scowl deepened, if that were even possible, when he sensex Inej slide into the seat next to him. He waited for her to speak, because he sure as hell wasn't going to initiate the conversation. What was there to say? You and him were over. And it was all his fault. 

"Kaz," Inej said. Her tone of voice was gentle - too gentle. He didn't want to be pitied, for fuck's sake. 

"What is it, Inej?" he snapped. 

"Tell me what happened between you and Y/n."

"Nothing to tell." He shrugged. 

Annoyance flickered over her face. "I care about you both, you know," she said. "I don't like seeing you two like this."

He gave her a withering look, if only to disguise the ugly feeling that flared up within him at her words. 

Don't care about me.

Don't love me.

You can't.

Kaz bit the inside of his cheek and hung his head. He studiously ignored Inej for a solid minute. At some point, he noticed that you and Muzzen had abandoned your corner table, most likely to go suck each other's faces off. The thought sent jolts of jealousy through his heart. 

"For Saint's sake- did she break your heart? Is that it?" she demanded, apparently having had enough of his silence.

He 'tsked' in annoyance, standing up abruptly. He snatched up his cane. "Maybe I broke hers," he muttered before walking off. He didn't want to answer questions today. Or ever.

Inej didn't follow him, and he was thankful for that. He trudged up the stairway, the rickety steps creaking under his weight. Emotions swirled within him, brewing up a storm. It was just a matter of time before he exploded, because as much as he hated to admit it, he was still human. Especially when it came to you. 

You had been one of the first people to see his humanity, and the last thing he wanted was to become another monster in your life.

But then again, maybe it was too late.

Suddenly, he bumped into someone. He hissed, flinching backwards. "Watch it-," his next words died on his tongue when he looked up, and came face to face with you. For a few, painfully awkward moments, the two of you held eye contact. Your face was stony, but your e/c eyes betrayed some kind of emotion that Kaz couldn't be bothered to decipher right now.

"Sorry, Brekker," you apologised. Your tone was flat. "C'mon, Muzzen," you gestured for him to follow you back down with a jerk of your head.

His hand twitched at his side as you left, almost as if his body yearned for your presence. Your shoulders nearly touched - missing each other by less than a centimetre. He couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing. 

Letting out another sharp breath, Kaz resumed the walk back to his room. His footsteps grew quicker and more urgent. Your name echoed in his mind, as well as the three words that had haunted him for days now. 

Y/n. Y/n. Y/n.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

He slammed the door behind him when he finally reached his quarters. His cane fell to the floor, although his gloves stayed on. He stumbled into the cramped bathroom, bracing two hands against the rusty sink. He twisted the tap open, ignoring the squeak of the old mechanism that would have otherwise annoyed him. A gentle stream of water flowed from the tap head, and he splashed some on his face. 

No, he thought stubbornly, I am not going to break down because of Y/n.

The despair that rattled inside of him said otherwise.

f only he had reacted better when you'd told him you loved him. If only he hadn't yelled at you and called you all those horrible things that weren't true about you in the slightest. You weren't selfish at all. You were the exact opposite. You were kind, and thoughtful, and understanding - so, so understanding of him and his endless baggage. And he had- he had ruined it all, because of his own cowardice.

You're a coward, Brekker.

I know, he thought, not for the first time. I'm sorry. 

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

Your pov

"I- I'm sorry, Muzzen, but I think I'm gonna turn in for the night," you said to the bodyguard, smiling sheepishly. "I've got a bit of a headache."

"It's alright," he said, giving a half-hearted smile back. It was clear he didn't believe you. You didn't know if that was because your acting skills weren't as up to par as you thought, or because the bodyguard was smarter than you made him out to be.

You all but ran up the stairs, nearly sagging in relief as the door closed behind you. You suddenly couldn't stand the feeling of the fabric of your coat on your skin and shrugged it off; Kaz had bought it for you, because of course the reminder of him lingered everywhere you went.

Your room wasn't anywhere near big, but it was a good way away from Kaz's, and for the first time, you were grateful for that. You couldn't deal with him at the moment.

Wait, no, that came out wrong. It wasn't him specifically that you couldn't deal with, it was the bad memories (or, rather, memory, as there was one key shitshow that had ruimed everything) that came with him.

Oh, Saints, why, why, why had you told him you loved him? Things had been going so well! And then you- you fucked it up. Yes, you had blatantly blamed this on Kaz the day of the argument, but deep down, you knew you were the one at fault. 

Your heart ached every time you thought of him. You missed Kaz. So, so much. It hadn't escaped you how he had been eyeing you and Muzzen earlier in the evening. You could only hope that he was staring out of jealousy, and not devising some foolproof plan to get rid of you.

What would it take for Kaz to forgive you? Or had you fucked things up beyond repair? 

"Shit," you whispered, leaning your head against the wall. Tears burned at the corners of your eyes. "Shit." You didn't know what exactly was 'shit'. Maybe the decision you came to moments later.

I'm going to apologise to him," you said to your empty room. "I will."

With a sniffle, you cracked open your door and slipped back outside. You had left your coat in a pile on the floor, making you vulnerable to the cold that pierced the empty areas of the Crow Club. Your feet carried you to Kaz's room naturally. You barely had to think about where you were going. Instead, you thought of Kaz himself. 

Kaz. Your fallen angel, you used to call him in your mind. You couldn't express how sorry you were. You didn't even know what you were sorry for. Loving him? Loving him, and saying it aloud? Loving him, and saying it aloud, because you were so sure he felt the same way? 

You had been being selfish. Kaz said so himself. Selfish and stupid. Of course Kaz didn't love you.

At last, you were in front of his door. You raised a fist to knock. Opened your mouth to call out. Except you did none of those. You just stood there, tears welling up in your eyes once again, a familiar pang of sadness in your chest. 

He wouldn't want to see you. How could he? This was your fault, wasn't it? It was your selfishness, and your wishful thinking that had gotten you two into this position. You missed him, but you wouldn't go as far as to think he missed you, too. If you attempted to apologise… would it really be for him? 

You wouldn't be selfish. Not again.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. 

You turned around, and walked away. 

[earlgreydream]

mischief.

| marauders x reader | fluff | smut |

anon requested. they’re all flirty and touchy with one another? like its mutual pining, smutty, dom!reader

“Wake up!” Sirius whispered in your ear. 

You startled out of your sleep, and he put his hand over your mouth before you could scream.

“It’s just Pads, bunny. But c’mon, we gotta go,” he slowly took his hand away, trusting you to be quiet enough not to wake your roommate. Sirius put a sweater in your hands and you slipped leggings up your legs, pushing your feet into shoes. 

You silently slipped from the dorm and ran after your friend, your fingers laced in his. You blinked sleep away as Sirius dragged you through the halls to where Remus and James were waiting near the dungeons. 

“What are we doing?” you yawned, rubbing your eyes. 

“We’re finally getting revenge on Severus for fucking up your charms project,” James answered fiercely.

“So you dragged me out of bed at two in the morning?” You asked in disbelief.

“We’re going to make it worth your while,” Remus promised, kissing the back of your neck. You smiled before turning to the door.

“How are we getting into the slytherin dorms?” You questioned, staring at the painting. Sirius winked, and it swung open, revealing a boy with gorgeous stormy eyes and black curls, a smaller copy of your best friend. 

“Thank you, Regulus,” Sirius ruffled his curls before stepping into the chilly common room. 

“You owe me.”

“Thanks, Reg,” you kissed his cheek, earning a smile from the shy, brooding Black brother. Sirius shot him a jealous look, one that mirrored the expression of the other two. You giggled, rushing them along. 

You found Severus’ dorm, slipping inside in the dark. James went to the chest, opening it silently and waving his wand, murmuring a spell. Every article of clothing turned baby pink with ruffles and bows, and you all had to bite back laughter. 

The boys waved you out, lingering by the door. You hesitated, grabbing his potions essay off of the desk. They all looked at you in surprise, you typically weren’t the one to go farther than just a little prank. You flipped off Severus’ sleeping form, still not forgiving him for ruining your charms project the week before. 

“Are you mad?” Remus hissed as you walked to the common room. 

“Quite,” you shot him a look. 

“Thank you. Do as you wish with this,” you said to Regulus, putting the potions essay in his hands. The younger boy grinned, and Sirius’ gaze softened. 

James and Remus took your hands, running through dark corridors with you, Sirius trailing close behind. You expected to be taken back to bed, but the boys decided not to try to break you back in. They brought you to their own dorm, and you grinned mischievously. 

“Thank you.”

“Always, bunny,” James smiled, kneeling down in front of where you sat on the end of his bed. He slipped your shoes off of your feet, lightly squeezing your ankles. 

You were buzzing with adrenaline, and you stared down at James, your mind wandering to how sexy he looked down on his knees in front of you. Sirius and Remus both recognized the look on your face, both of them sensing the energy shift in the room. 

The four of you were exceptionally close, flirty and touchy. The lines of your friendship blurred to be more than platonic. The adrenaline and excitement fueled arousal, and the innocent night of mischief was quickly evolving into something more. 

James’ hazel eyes gazed up at you, and he sat back on his heels as your fingers traced over the curves of your face. Your fingers pulled him up by his tie, and you pushed your lips against his. Your other hand carded into his hair, deepening the kiss as your tongue slipped into his mouth, dominating his. James moaned against your lips, and Sirius muttered a profanity, shrugging his shirt from his body and kicking his jeans aside. 

James panted when you broke the kiss, and Remus pulled your sweater over your head. James hooked two of his fingers into the front of your t-shirt, pulling the neckline down so he could kiss the soft skin of your chest.

You sighed quietly and set his glasses aside, running your fingers through his dark waves as his tongue lapped over your nipple. 

“Isn’t bunny pretty?” Sirius asked James, pulling your hair out of the way and tying it up before kissing along your shoulder and neck. 

“Yes, so pretty,” James mumbled against your skin. Remus smiled proudly at the submissive boy, encouraging him to make you feel good. You leaned against Sirius, your eyes rolling back at the way James touched you. 

“I want to fuck my beautiful boys,” you breathed against Sirius’ lips. Your tongues slid together, his long, beautiful hand wrapping around your throat. Silver rings left faint indentations on your skin, and he filled your senses. 

“Let off of her, Prongs. We want to see bunny without her clothes on, yeah?” Remus gently pried James from your chest. He whimpered and you smiled down at him, praising him for being good. 

You let Sirius slide your t shirt off, exposing your torso to the marauders. You lifted your hips so James could pry your leggings and thong off, and Sirius hauled you onto the mattress. 

You pushed him down onto his back once he was stripped, allowing the other two boys to entertain themselves. Your fingers slid up his chest, muscular from years of quidditch practices, admiring his tanned body. 

“Please, let me get inside of you, bunny. I want to feel your tight walls squeeze around me,” he asked softly, stormy eyes shining up at you, letting you take control. 

You absolutely couldn’t deny your gorgeous, sweet boy, and you slowly sank down on his cock, letting him pierce you. His hands went to your hips to help guide you, though your hand that went around his neck reminded him that you were in charge. 

“Fuck, bunny, you feel amazing,” he swore as you seated yourself with him buried as deep as possible in your pussy. A quiet gasp was the only response you could manage for several moments, overwhelmed by just the feeling of him stretching you out. 

“Help me ride you, Pads,” you hummed, rolling your hips as he took some of the effort. 

James whined in need, and you pulled him over to you, kissing him roughly and wrapping your arms around his neck as you bounced on Sirius’ cock. When he snapped his hips up, you squeezed his throat and yelped into James’ mouth. 

“Gotta share, Jamesie,” Remus scolded James.

Before you could process his words, his mouth was on yours, replacing where James had previously been. James leaned down to reattach himself to your chest, Remus swallowing your loud moans as the boys stimulated you everywhere. 

James shrieked, biting you lightly as Remus sheathed himself inside of the boy, taking him from behind as he continued to passionately kiss you. 

“James!” Sirius slapped his thigh, pushing his face away from you and down to the bed. The brunette’s back arched as Remus roughly drove into him. Sirius sat up, letting you lean against his chest as you grew unable to maintain your balance, overwhelmed by the pleasure and stimulation. 

“You’re doing so well, bunny. Our gorgeous girl, letting us kiss you everywhere and fill you up,” Remus praised as Sirius softly kissed you, licking over the bruised lips that were swollen from Remus and James. 

“Sirius, fuck, I’m so close,” you breathed, and James moved, reaching between the two of you to rub your clit as Sirius bounced you up and down on his lap. You tightened around him so intensely that he struggled to thrust into you, snapping and falling apart as James’ help sent you tumbling into your orgasm. 

You came with a scream, everyone following behind in close succession, pleasure radiating around your small group. 

“I’ve got you,” Sirius breathed, holding you tightly as the mixture of your release leaked out of you, smearing across your thighs. You clung to him, the aftershocks of your powerful orgasm making you twitch in his arms. 

Remus cleaned him and James up beside you, and you barely heard him ask Sirius to let him help the two of you. You squeaked as Sirius moved, and he hushed you with gentle kisses to your cheek.

“We gotta clean up, bunny. Then you can snuggle between us,” Sirius promised. 

Although you’d been dominating during the sex, now you just wanted to cling to Sirius and let him care for you. You weren’t keen on the idea of him removing himself from you, but he gently laid you back and slipped out. 

“Just let Moony clean you up a bit,” James brushed hair from your face, smiling sweetly at you. You nodded blearily, parting your legs to allow Remus to care for you. You winced at the contact, taking a moment to relax. 

Sirius dressed you in a quidditch sweater, snuggling you between him and James in the large bed, Remus lying on James’ other side. Your head rested on Sirius’ chest, and he played with your hair until you fell asleep. 

“Wake up, gorgeous,” Remus tried to rise you, and you covered your face with your arm, enjoying your sleep.

“Come on, I’ve got some tea ready for you,” James tried, failing. 

“If you get up, you get to see Severus in those pink frilly trousers!” Sirius reminded. 

That got you up. 

Sirius swatted you backside before you could pull on a clean uniform that was in his chest. You often spent the night in their dorm, and now, you were prepared. 

“Sirius rough you up?” Remus laughed as he watched you wince at first. 

“Sorry, bunny,” Sirius kissed your cheek, and you blushed, hiding behind the tea James had made for you. 

The four of you hurried to potions, and you giggled with delight as you saw Severus angrily trying to explain that he’d lost the essay to your professor, on top of why his uniforms had been... altered. 

“The bloke deserves it,” Regulus whispered, sitting down with you and Sirius. 

“Oh, absolutely,” you giggled, bending over your cauldron so you didn’t draw attention to yourselves. 

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Riven’s crush

Pairing: Riven x fairy!reader

=================================

Staring intently, Riven had stopped pretending. He could hardly get enough time in the day to reconcile his ever growing feelings for Y/N, the very thought daunting.

She's the perfect girl, the one everyone orbits like she's a magnet, a source of life. If he was entirely honest with himself, she was like the Sun, her smile set his soul alight, her touch burned him like fire.

Even now, Riven watched her giggle when Sky handed her a dandelion and he wanted to be mad, he wanted to throw a fit and flip them off. He couldn't. Doing anything to upset her felt unnatural, painful to him.

Instead of being destructive, Riven marched toward the two, his eyes set on her.

"Hello there", Riven drapes his right arm over her shoulders, pulling her closer. His lips press against her temple, tender and sweet, two words no one would assign to Riven.

"Hey Riv", her tone is enthusiastic, smile genuine as she tilts her head to look up at Riven who so bravely dared to initiate contact.

"I have to run to meet with Silva, but think about it?" Sky takes a few steps back, smiling softly at Y/N who nods, prompting Sky to smile wider before turning away.

"Don't tell me you swoon over him too", Riven mumbles, dropping his arm and taking a step back.

Furrowing her eyebrows, Y/N shakes her head, "Sky is like a brother to me. I'm just doing him a Bloom related favor."

"Oh", Riven runs the back of his neck, feeling a little out of his death. Accusing her of being into someone else didn't feel like a good way to express how he feels about her.

"Yeah, my taste in guys is more along the lines of guys who pretend to be baddies but are soft inside." Winking, Y/N chuckles at the wide-eyed stare Riven deals her with. She always found it amusing how lip locked Riven would get around her. It had gotten to a point where she enjoyed teasing him just to get a reaction.

"Seems like you have someone in mind", Riven sighs, averting his gaze to the ground before flickering his gaze up to her steady one.

"Maybe", she trails off, "Do you? I'm open to suggestions." Eyebrows raised, she waited for Riven to speak.

"I don't want to scare you, but I think I am in love with you." Riven speaks fast, unsure why he's doing this because there is no way Y/N would ever be interested in him but he couldn't help himself.

For the first time ever, he couldn't imagine keeping his feelings under wraps, not when she stood there with her perfect smile and her kind eyes. He wanted to scream LOVE ME, but at least he found a more civilized manner to express the same.

"Why would that scare me?" Y/N steps closer. Raising her hand, she plants her palm against his chest, tilting her head up to fix his gaze. "I'm a fire fairy, Riven. We don't scare easily."

"Shit", Riven mutters under his breath. The proximity, the way her hand lingers on his chest, the sensuality of her tone had taken his breath away, but nothing quite worked as well as the moment she pulled his head down and kissed his lips.

She wasn't as kind or gentle when she claimed his lips, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Gasping, Riven found himself unable to form a coherent thought, overwhelmed by emotions she evoked. Her scent intoxicates him, her arms wrapped around him and sooner than he wanted, she had let go of him altogether.

Lips swollen, darkened by her red lipstick, Riven stood there with a smile adorning his face. "Does that mean you're in love with me too?"

Cocking her right eyebrow, she licked her lips, "It means I like you, Riven."

Nodding to himself, he smirks, "I can work with that."

Pursing her lips, she takes a step back. "Are you sure? Because you're about to find out exactly why they say fire fairies are a little mad."

Chuckling, he swipes his thumb under his bottom lip, "All the best people are."

Raising her hands in mock surrender, Y/N continues backing away, "Don't start running when you can't handle the heat."

Riven's heart flutters at her words, watching her walk away from him slowly, her smile wide and enchanting.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, doll!"

Shaking her head at him, she brought her hand up to her lips, sending him an air kiss Riven found himself catching. It's foolish, something he'd mock anyone else who'd do it, but if there is anyone out there he's willing to be silly for, it's Y/N.

[dragonsareourfuture]

Mammon/GN!Reader — Safe

⚠️Warnings: emotional distress (caused by Lucifer) and swearing. If you are sensitive to these, please do not go further.

Sometimes I get fed up with how the brothers, mainly Lucifer, treat Mammon. I hate the “punishments” Lucifer gives him and how it’s just brushed off. I desperately want to hold the poor man when it becomes too much for him, so here’s possibly the most serious Obey Me oneshot I’ve ever written to help me cope with not being able to do just that. Begins as angst and evolves into fluff.

You feel terrible, but there is really nothing you can do but clean up the pieces.

Another night, another sleep interrupted by shouts echoing off the corridors of the House of Lamentation. You wish Lucifer would dial it back at least some nights. Hell knows that you’re not the only one whose sleep schedule is suffering just so he can punish his younger brother — then again, only half of the inhabitants of the house actually have a sleep schedule. Curse this entire house for its innate ability to let sound travel so fucking easily.

You groan, rolling to the other side of the bed in a feeble attempt to distance your body from the noise at least a little. It, unsurprisingly, does nothing and you can still hear the incessant booms of Lucifer’s thunderous voice. A pang of guilt bubbles in your chest. How could you be complaining when poor Mammon is the one who has to endure it all? It just doesn’t sit right with you, especially knowing that if you interfered you might have the slightest possibility of putting a stop to the ill treatment of the second born.

Even so, you can’t exactly blame yourself for being wary. Lucifer has tried to kill you on multiple occasions for doing just the thing you are contemplating. You figure you can let yourself off the hook for that one, just this once.

Miraculously, that one conclusion fails to ease that feeling of uneasiness lingering in your stomach. Fists clench around your pillowcase, nose digging into your soft mattress, your patience wears thinner by the second. Your limbs even twitch in an attempt begin rising and deal with the situation after all — but then the noises cease.

The room sounds eerily quiet. Not even the air conditioning is blasting anymore. You yawn, wondering if your ears had just popped. They had not. You snap your fingers. You can hear that just fine. So, you’re not going deaf. Okay, that’s a good sign, at least. You sit up and gaze around the pitch darkness of your bedroom. Nothing stirs — inside the room, that is.

Outside, however, you can hear the distant clomp of footsteps growing closer to your sealed bedroom door. You know who it is immediately, not bothering to lay back down and attempt to sleep, not even considering it. You sit up, feet hitting the floor soon after as you pad your way over to the door. You swing it open just as the footsteps stop right outside your room.

Mammon stands, fist held up in the air as if he was just about to knock on the polished wood. He blinks a couple of times, and you notice the gentle shine to his eyes and eyelids.

“Ya said that I could come...if I needed anything,” the demon croaks. All power that he ever seemed to hold over you had vanished all too suddenly and, rather than relishing in the feeling, all you can do is nod and step aside to allow him passage into your room.

“Of course, come on in,” you say delicately. The last thing you want is to be too coddling, for he might sense that as a personal threat and duck out. But you allow your instinct to care for him shine through with your soft tone. He apparently doesn’t feel that you are babying him too much, as he trudges through your threshold like a defeated puppy. It sincerely breaks your heart.

“I want you to know that you’re welcome to stop by any time you need to,” You had told him earlier that week.

The intrusive demon had never used your welcome for anything besides barging in to hang out at any and all hours, but now, with this clear predicament weighing down on him as heavy as the earth, you feel deeply touched that your words actually got through to him back then. He felt that he could trust you, which is why he is here now and not sulking in his room as he used to do after a particularly brutal scolding.

You shut the door behind him as he makes his entry, watching carefully as he shuffles around your room as if confused on what to do next. His hesitant nature directly contrasts how he would usually waltz in and make himself comfortable. You contemplate locking the door. It would be completely counterproductive if Lucifer or one of the other brothers forced their way in and made the situation way worse. But, at the same time, you would hate to make him feel uneasy, like you’re trapping him in with no way out. You opt to keep the door unlocked.

You pay close attention to Mammon’s features now, shrouded by the dark, sure, but you can make them out almost perfectly. You like to look at his face — it’s pretty, and you don’t bother to keep yourself from doing so. As a result, you can see all his ticks no matter how difficult it may be from the angle, lighting, etcetera. He often scrunches up his nose when he’s irritated, or on he verge of tears. So, seeing his nose twitch as he looks around your room is no surprise to you.

You step closer to his shifting form, and Mammon seems to get even more uncomfortable, so you move back. You rest your arms at your sides, making their positions known so that he won’t fret about the possibility of you hitting him by surprise. You would never, you know this, but Mammon isn’t aware that loved ones shouldn’t ‘lay down the law’ as harshly as Lucifer does.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask slowly, keeping your voice steady and calm.

Mammon’s hands slide into the pockets of his jeans. He shakes his head, the snowy white fringe covering his eyes shaking along with the movements. You nod, understanding his silence. Understanding that if he so much as opened his mouth to answer, a sob might find its way through instead. Even though he trusts you, you suspect that The Great Mammon isn’t keen on letting his human see him in tears.

“Mams, I won’t judge you if you cry. We all have to let off some steam every once in a while,” you reason, voice straining to keep from pleading but failing as your emotions get the better of you. “I love you all the same.”

Mammon hides his face from you, but the telltale sign of his shoulders bouncing up and down tell you that you need to step in. Your hands brush against his shoulders and he jolts. Though a shock runs through your heart at the sight, you simply have to make sure he knows that you’re there for him. You’re not going to let him cry alone in your bedroom when you’re right there beside him. Your grip becomes a bit more forceful now, only enough to turn the Avatar of Greed around by his broad shoulder and pull him close to your body.

With the contact, Mammon feels free to let go completely. Sobs wrack his entire body as you hold him steady. The intensity of them startled you but not as much as the volume. His head is buried in your shoulder, right next to your ear and you are spared no shout nor whine that comes out of the demon’s mouth. This combined with his heavy weight pressing you down tells you that it’s time to change positions.

You gently nudge Mammon into standing up straight, leading him by his hands to your bed, still warm with your body heat from when you had tried to hunker down earlier. He wastes no time at all in pulling you down with him, arms locked tight around your waist while his tear-stained face nuzzles itself into your chest. It’ll leave stains, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. Instead you marvel at how much pent-up emotions Mammon let sit stewing in his head before now. Clear sorrow, evident by the tears now soaking into your night shirt. Anger and desperation, demonstrated by how tightly he clamps around your body, though you can tell he is still somehow holding back, determined not to crush you even in this fit of pure, raw emotion. And all of this caused by a family member. It’s enough to make you seethe, but revenge for Mammon’s sake is not the focus. Right now, his comfort and consolation is all you need to worry about.

You rake your hands through Mammon’s head of ivory hair, brushing it out with your fingers and noting the softness. You plant a frenzy of kisses atop his head, the last one lingering before you lean close to his ear. “That’s it, let it all out...you’re alright now...I’m here.”

Your demon’s cries have, at the very least, calmed a smidge. He shakes less in your grasp but his head remains pressed flush against your chest. You take it upon yourself to ease him further, the hand that held his back sliding down and slipping beneath his ebony-colored shirt. You trace the curve of his spine, relishing in the way it feels against your fingers. He’s more slim than the majority of his brothers, and you absolutely adore it. You get to the dip of Mammon’s lower back and your fingertips nearly move on their own to run over the dimples back there. Warm breath spreads over your chest as the demon cradled in your arms lets out something delightfully close to a laugh.

Your lips quirk upwards in a smile at your accomplishment. Mammon has calmed down enough to where low whines and wheezes are all he emits now. These eventually transform into hums, then snores. You keep Mammon’s face pressed against you — you grew to appreciate his radiating body heat in that area — but moved his mouth and nose away to be sure he wouldn’t suffocate.

Before lying back and drifting off yourself, you wipe some of the excess tears from his cheek and under his eyelids, pressing the gentlest kiss you can produce onto his tanned cheek. Mammon’s eyes only crinkle for a second before his features flatten again with the tranquility of sleep.

Opting to get some sleep of your own, you rest your head finally to your pillow, huffing a great sigh with the contact. As sleep pulls you in, you silently curse the monster that could do this to your baby, dreaming up the most vile plots for your revenge during your outwardly peaceful slumber. But that could be handled another day, preferably whenever Lucifer least expects it.

You wake up before Mammon’s eyes ever begin to crack open. Your position had changed slightly over the course of the night, but most factors still remain the same. Your demon’s face is now in the crook of your neck, steady and cool breaths fanning over your skin, making you shiver. His arm is draped over your stomach as you lay on your back, the other arm tucked underneath him. You want to pull it out from under him — the pins and needles should be bad when he wakes — but you’re determined to let him sleep longer after the night he just had.

Your goal is met, and you lay with him for what feels like a few more hours. You aren’t completely conscious, fading in and out of the realm of sleep every few minutes it seems. Noises begin to sound off outside your bedroom — doors opening and closing, footsteps on the staircase, and eventual chatter from the first floor. People are starting their days like nothing ever happened.

You hope it isn’t the noise that stirs Mammon from his heavy slumber. His eyebrows furrow and a light groan seeps past his parted lips. His head shakes, as if his sleepy self is wondering why his movements are so restricted. If that is the case, you loosen your hold around him. After a few seconds, the Avatar of Greed’s snowy white eyelashes flutter against your neck as his eyes force themselves open.

You pull away to greet him with your smiling face. “Morning, sunshine,” you say, voice coming out in less than a mere whisper as your throat is still rough from sleep.

Mammon’s features flood with realization, an alarmingly dark blush spreading across his nose and cheeks, some even reaching his ears and neck. You wish you could wake up to this face every single day.

“M-m-mornin’...” he tries, stuffing his face in your pillow in an attempt to quell the blood rushing to his face. Your chuckle at this action only makes it worse.

“Everyone’s getting up right about now,” you tell him, your hands finding their way up to his incredibly soft head of hair, twirling a couple strands around your index finger as you speak, “Do you want me to go make you some breakfast and bring it up here for you?”

“Gah!” Mammon jolts, eyes losing their sleepiness immediately to stare at you in disbelief. “Y-y-you’d do that!?”

“Of course!” You pull your torso off the bed, accentuating your declaration, and leaning on your elbows for support. “I’m not gonna make you go down there and face your brothers if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“Oh...yeah...yeah, that sounds real nice. T-the Great Mammon appreciates your service!”

You jokingly roll your eyes, heaving your body all the way up to start dressing yourself. “I’m sure he does.” You halt all movements when pressure suddenly builds around your wrist, constricting and pulling you back before you can stand.

You look back, a worried-looking Mammon staring at you with wide eyes and upturned brows. He seems to catch himself, hanging his head a bit and sinking into the bedsheets. “B-before you do that...do you think you can stay a bit longer?”

You are about to comply with Mammon’s request, positively falling victim to the pleading look he shoots you, when a loud rumble breaks the brief silence. Mammon whines and clutches his stomach, concealing his face with your sheets.

“How about I get you some breakfast, then I’ll come back and we can cuddle all morning. Does that sound good?”

Your demon peeks an eye out from under the covers, white hair bobbing up and down in an affirmative nod. You smile, getting up and slipping on some shorts to go with your nightshirt. You make it to the door, hand on the handle when you turn to ask your sleepy demon a question.

“So, did you have anything in mind? You’ve got your spicy noodles—“

“Wait! I’m saving those! It’s my last cup and Lucifer says we’re not going to the store in a week! Not...ya know, not that I’m scared of him!” He perks up, sheets cascading down his torso.

“I can always make a quick run to the store. Lucifer’s words aren’t law.”

Mammon looks hesitant. He shakes his head and grabs at the sheets to pull them back up his body. “No, no, I’ll take a sandwich. Beel bought some Melancholy berry jam the other day and hasn’t eaten it all yet. Some of that with peanut butter would be great...”

“Not a problem. Oh, and do you want toasted bread?”

Mammon hugs your pillow. You suspect he’s getting weirded out by being asked all of these questions about his own preferences. Not a lot of demons seem to take them into account on a regular basis, after all. “U-um, that sounds good... and ... ugh, never mind!”

“What is it?”

He struggles with his words for a moment before asking, rather rushed, “Could you cut off the crusts, too?”

You have to brace yourself on the door handle to not collapse at how incredibly adorable that request is. Nevertheless, you can tell he is embarrassed and decide not to tease him too much. That could be done later, when he isn’t in such a vulnerable state of mind. You nod, chirping a quick ‘Sure, sweetheart’ before exiting and closing the door behind you.

Heading downstairs feels like squaring up for a fight. Deep down you know you can’t do much, Mammon would be crushed if you got in trouble with Lucifer for his sake, but you won’t be pleasant, either. You cringe at yourself, unable to handle the empty threats you seem to have in abundance inside your brain.

You can’t give most of the brothers the cold shoulder, that much you know. It wasn’t them that forced Mammon to tears the previous night with nothing but their words and whatever other hells Mammon was forced to endure. No, only Lucifer deserves your passive aggressive wrath today.

Luckily for you, there are only a few of the brothers remaining in the kitchen instead of waiting at the table already, one of those few being Lucifer himself who stands against the counter with a mug of coffee pressed to his lips. Satan and Beel are present as well, Beel rummaging through the pantry and fridge while Satan watches with what looks like mild amusement.

“Morning,” you greet the two younger brothers, going out of your way to make as little eye contact with Lucifer as possible. Whether he picks up on this, you can’t tell, but you can sense the change in atmosphere as you open the fridge and dig around for the jam Mammon wants.

“(Name). Is something wrong?” A deep voice inquires and, as you deduct that voice to be Beel’s, you look over your shoulder, offering a smile.

“Can’t possibly imagine why there’d be something wrong.” Wrong with you at least.

“Are you sure? You seem...off,” Satan inquires, as curious and considerate as ever.

You head over to the pantry, now with the jam in hand, and search for the peanut butter. A soft ‘ah!’ escapes you as your hand closes around the jar as well as a loaf of bread and you make your way over to the cutting board.

“I’m cool,” you deadpan. The younger brothers remain silent after you hear them shift a bit.

You begin to prepare the sandwich, daring not to turn around when the sound of footsteps approaching you invades your ears. All too suddenly there is a looming presence behind you, peering over your shoulder and radiating the most intense energy you’ve ever felt.

“What.” You say. It is not a question, but a demand. You still do not meet the eldest brother’s eyes.

You hear fabric shift and body heat warm your skin as Lucifer leans down to speak quietly enough so that his brother’s can’t hear. “It is for his own good. He will never learn if he is not properly disciplined.”

Your blood begins to boil. You raise your voice to him, completely disregarding Lucifer’s attempts to keep his brothers out of the situation as you do. “You know you can ‘properly discipline’ him without hurting him, right? What kind of brother are you?”

You leave it at that, throwing the rest of the sandwich together quickly before storming out of there. But wait...you stop in your tracks and stare down at the sandwich with defeated eyes. You forgot to cut off the crusts, dammit!

So, throwing your opportunity for a badass exit out the window, you march right back into the kitchen, tear open a drawer to grab a knife, and chop every single crust from the bread — all while the three brothers stare at you in both confusion and awe.

As you go to leave again, Satan finds the will to speak up. “Where are you going?”

“To my room.” You hold up the now crust-less sandwich. “The Great Mammon’s gotta eat.”

“But it’s your turn to make breakfast for everyone!” Beel whines, clutching at his stomach helplessly.

Again, you pause. Your fight leaves you and you approach the gentle giant upon seeing him look at you with such sorrow. You know how important food is to him.

“I’ll call for delivery from Hell’s Kitchen. Just round up everyone’s order and text it to me. Is that okay?”

Beelzebub nods enthusiastically and you pat his head, then turn on your heel to head back up to your room. You feel eyes on you as you walk away and, if you weren’t so fired up right now, you might take that as a compliment. But you know it’s Lucifer. You know it’s him even as the presence behind you follows you out into the hallway.

“I don’t like being followed.” You state in a bored tone.

“You don’t have to treat him like a child, you know. He can take care of himself.”

“I don’t want to let him take care of himself. I’m gonna be there for him when his brothers are being assholes.”

Lucifer looks taken aback. You don’t curse at them, you just don’t. Unless you’re joking, you never speak ill to them no matter what. And you didn’t to Beel or Satan. Even in your fired state you calmed enough to treat them as you normally would, with kindness and compassion. It is him you have the grudge against right now, and Lucifer’s brain can’t seem to accept or handle the fact that this is because of your protectiveness over his younger sibling.

“You won’t be here forever, you know.” Lucifer knows he crossed a line, but he can’t seem to stop himself. “He will need to fight his own battles eventually.”

“How about you give him less battles to fight, hmm?”

Lucifer seems to have nothing left to say. Taking his silence as an invitation to leave, you do just that and start up the stairs to your bedroom.

“Oh, and by the way,” you begin, stopping midway up the staircase to address the short circuiting demon you left in the hallway, “I may not be in this world as long as you guys will, but if you even touch him after I’m gone, my ghost will fuck you up.”

You make your final leave, Mammon’s breakfast in hand and a smile lining your face as you prepare to greet your greedy little demon.

[moonbeamsung]

You’re Just a Boy in a Blueberry Field

No fruit is sweeter than a summer love.

member: haechan

au: blueberry farmer!haechan x gn!reader

word count: 5.0k

genre: fluff, very light angst

warnings: mentions of food

author’s note: It’s here! I actually wrote most of this last summer, but only recently did I find the time to edit and get it ready to be posted. I added some parts and changed a few things, and now I like it quite a lot, so I hope you do as well! Thank you @astroboy-lele​ for beta-reading :) As always I would love to hear any feedback on this, and I hope that you enjoy the fic!

taglist: @astroboy-lele @kyuwoyo @rvse-hvvck @nakamotocore @kisshim @leejunini @chicksung @mrkcore @radiorenjun @moon-jun @jisungiest @stayctday @byutafy @jujubean23 @treasurehobi​ @bluejaem​ @lyshoonn​ @vera-liscious​ @allegxdly​ @cupfullofjeno​ @thats-a-jen-no-no​ @yo-ddream​

network tags: @kpopscape @neo-constellations @culture-cafe @dreamlab-nct @k-dinernet 

Thank you lovely Ana @rvse-hvvck for this additional header!

Donghyuck knows everything there is to know about those blueberries.

Without even pausing for the briefest of moments to think, to instinctively recall the information instilled in him throughout his childhood spent on the farm, he can answer any question that’s thrown at him. He can point out just the right color of berry to pick so that they’ll be ripe when you eat them later. Likewise, he can also tell you which ones are best to eat now, as you pick them, pretending not to notice when you pop one or two into your mouth and grinning when your eyes light up from the sweetness.

A day comes where he, filled with mischief as usual, places a not-so-ripe blueberry into your hand, and you, being so wrapped up in the peacefulness of the morning that surrounds you, fail to notice its red color and don’t think twice about lifting it to your lips, biting into it with your teeth. When the tart taste meets your tongue, your face contorts into an expression that elicits a raucous fit of laughter from him. You’re the first one in the fields that day. When the sun had risen on the horizon, the fleeting touch of color in the sky that dawn left behind still lingering above, he had been there, sitting on the front porch as always to greet customers.

Donghyuck knows every bug that loves to rest on the branches of the blueberry bushes. After spending so much time next to you as you scan them for the pops of vivid blues and purples that are hidden behind jade green leaves, he begins to learn that you are not fond of any bug, no matter how harmless. It’s cute, he thinks, how you inspect every berry that you drop into your basket, fearing that some small creature is lurking on it. If you do find something, he hears a small noise of both surprise and disgust before you fling the perfectly good berry away from you. It also hurts a little, knowing that it’s one less for you to take home.

When more people arrive at the farm after you, he’s forced to leave your side and get them started on their own search for the delicious fruit that’s nestled among the branches of nearly every bush. And if they ask where the best ones are, he specifically points them in the direction of the fields where you aren’t. It isn’t a lie, really, because they’ve had a good harvest everywhere this year.

...Okay, so maybe it’s a little selfish on his part, but who can blame him for wanting you to have some of the most plentiful bushes all to yourself?

Wednesdays are his favorite because it’s always the least crowded of all the mornings they’re open for business, and he can spend more time following you as you make your way down the rows, admiring the focus on your face and the way that you sometimes pause mid-reach, closing your eyes and standing still as the sun peeks through the clouds and casts its warm glow down onto the farm. A gentle sigh tumbles from your lips, darkened by the violet nectar that remains from the countless blueberries that have crossed their usually pink-tinted threshold. You resume your search after a few seconds, catching his eye and returning a smile he didn’t even know was there.

He makes the berries taste a little sweeter when he’s next to you. The purple juice that stains your fingers is a little darker. The sun feels brighter and warmer than ever, its heat shining down onto your skin.

One particular morning, after you finish picking all the blueberries you can carry, you decide to accompany Donghyuck on the porch, sitting beside each other in matching rocking chairs that first belonged to his great-grandparents, the farm’s founders. The familiar sounds of birds chirping and the low mumbling amongst customers meet your ears. You both gaze fondly at the horizon while immersed in casual chatter, all the while tending to several families as they come and go.

Whenever a car turns off of the two-lane, paved road and onto the noisy gravel path leading into a small grassy area that functions as a parking lot, Donghyuck excuses himself from the lively conversation both of you always find yourselves sharing. He stands, brushing his hands off on his faded denim overalls that are only slightly too large for his frame. His hand lifts up the baseball cap he always wears while the other runs through his hair, and your gaze falls on the back of his neck where it rests in longer strands. You always wonder why he keeps it like that since he complains about how hot it makes him feel. The humid summer air is stifling enough as it is, after all. The thought vanishes only moments after it arrives, though, and he flashes a brilliant grin at you over his shoulder as he descends the wooden stairs leading down to the patio.

Today, a happy looking family gets out of a shiny silver minivan. The mother and father with two kids, a boy and a girl, make their way toward the covered patio and Donghyuck bounds down the steps like always, grabbing 4 stacked pails in his calloused hands. You lean forward a little in the creaky old rocking chair, your weight in your toes, ears just barely picking up his conversation with them. He greets the parents warmly, shaking their hands and then he kneels down to be eye-level with the small children. The little boy seems shy as he clasps his fingers in front of him, thumbs twiddling back and forth, while his sister is clearly the opposite. She skips over to the much taller boy, saying hello.

“Do you two like blueberries?” He asks them, one arm resting on his knee and the other extending a pail out in front of him. The young girl nods enthusiastically before she takes the container from his hand and turns around, passing it to her brother as he nods, making eye contact with Donghyuck for the first time. A small smile grows on his face when he’s met with the wider one of the unfamiliar but still welcoming stranger. His sister speaks up again, “Every Friday we get to help Mom make her famous blueberry pie!”

“Is that right?”

“Yep! In the morning we always go to the supermarket and get fresh blueberries,” she explains. Her mother leans down, softly telling her that this week they’re here to pick blueberries instead, fresh from the farm they were grown on.

“Really? So that means we’re not buying them at the store anymore?”

“Well, honey, today we can pick enough blueberries to last us for a whole month’s worth of blueberry pies.”

“And besides,” Donghyuck starts, still kneeling on the ground next to her, his boot leaving an imprint in the dirt underneath it, “it’ll taste even better since you picked them yourselves, don’t you think?” The boy punctuates his question with a wink.

The young boy steps up for the first time, grin stretching even wider as he finds the courage to happily agree with the wise words. Exclaiming eagerly and in a way that only a child can, he takes his sister by the hand that’s not holding his small bucket before scurrying off, their parents close behind after grabbing pails for each other as well as a third that their daughter had forgotten in the midst of the excitement.

As Donghyuck joins you on the porch once again, you can’t help but smile as you remember how he interacts with each and every customer that passes through the weathered fence surrounding the property. When he talks to kids in particular, his eyes seem to light up, and you see just how much of a kid he still is deep down. His playfulness never fails to make an appearance whenever you spend time with him.

You’re thankful for the moo of a cow in the distance that interrupts his question of why you’re smiling like an idiot and hopefully drowns out the steady sound of your pounding heart.

The next week he tells you that the rest of his family is out of town, and he’s been left with the responsibility of running the farm all on his own. He usually does most of the work himself these days anyway since he’s getting older and more mature, although some of his jokes say otherwise. You miss the way his mom would poke her head out of the upstairs window of the main house, calling out a greeting to you both from across the property, overjoyed at the sight of her son spending time with the particular customer he’s mentioned so many times before. Whether he would share an amusing anecdote of yours with his siblings at the dinner table or point out something that reminded him of you, it was far too easy for her to figure out how he feels about you.

In an effort to spend more time with him, keep him company and just help out in general, you offer to stay at the house with him for a little while. Or at least until his family gets back from their trip, and to your delight, he agrees. You arrive in the late evening, on a day when the fields are closed, just in time to catch the setting sun as it disappears behind the trees and power lines that seem to stretch for miles in the distance. Tugging an overnight bag of belongings with you, you knock twice on the wood of his front door.

It opens swiftly and Donghyuck welcomes you inside, wearing an apron that he must have outgrown 10 years ago, at least. You snicker at the snug choice of attire and he shoves your shoulder, though not with enough force to make you stumble. He whines a little in that saccharine-sweet voice of his that makes your heart clench, but you don’t give in. Not this time.

When the farm is closed for the day, the family has a chance to pick from some of the bushes that are planted in a more secluded area, all to ensure that they also have a big enough supply of the fruit to last them for the season. So Donghyuck had woken up at the crack of dawn, although you aren’t sure why. He had made his way downstairs and out into the dewy air of the morning, gathering just enough blueberries to bake a cobbler that night when you came over, since he’d learned it was your favorite treat after hours of conversation about anything and everything. The recipe comes straight from his great-grandfather, he informs you, and it’s written on a yellowing piece of paper in handwriting that you couldn’t read even if you tried. He, however, can somehow decode the seemingly nonsensical swirls and lines on the page. You suppose it’s part of the magic of the family recipe that gets passed down with it.

Donning an apron yourself, you join him at the sink as you begin washing the berries, gently grabbing a handful at a time as you let the tap water clean them. When you both reach into the large container at the same time, your hands brush and you almost scoff at the swell of your heart that you feel inside your chest.

As you’re working together to make the batter that you will soon pour into his mother’s finest glass baking pan, Donghyuck briskly swipes his fingertip on the side of the bowl where the mixer had splattered the combined ingredients, extending it in your direction. You raise an eyebrow at the boy and said fingertip before turning your head away.

“If you really think that I would lick that off your finger, then you’re terribly mistaken.”

Coyly, the mischief-maker in question retorts back as you glance at his impishly delighted expression. “Are you sure?” 

“Positive,” you state rather firmly, but matching the mirth in his eyes with a glimmer of amusement in your own. “I’ll settle for the spatula, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Donghyuck rolls his eyes, your answer completely expected. At least he tried. 

You won’t deny that you enjoy sampling a bit of the batter of a dessert as much as anyone. But not that much.

Left with no choice, he takes himself up on his own offer and sticks his finger into his mouth with an audible ‘pop,’ exaggerating the action just to get a rise out of you, feeling the upward curl of his lips when you react ever so slightly with a silent chuckle.

You’re adding the last bit of flour to the mixture when you accidentally get some of the powdery substance on your hand in the process. Turning the automatic mixer off, you momentarily forget about your stained skin and you make the mistake of wiping your face with the back of your wrist, smearing the white stuff on your cheek. Donghyuck notices, of course, and an innocent attempt to help clean up the mess only ends with the two of you blushing like crazy.

“Let me help you,” he speaks up.

“Don’t be ridiculous, the pan’s not that heavy, and even if it was, I’m strong enough anyway—”

You’re about to pick up the glassware but his sudden strides over to you from across the large kitchen cause everything you were saying, doing, and thinking to come to a complete stop. You’ve never really had a problem with personal space before, but right now he’s leaning down and his face is so close that you’re afraid to even breathe for fear that the action might just throw you off balance and towards him. For fear that you might not push his chest away with your hands if that happens.

He’s bending his knees to match your eye level and his hand lifts from its place at his side, hovering in midair not far from where the flour still lingers on your skin. His eyes had been so focused on the stain but the shrinking proximity between you and him pulls his gaze from your cheek to your eyes, blown wide and confused because you still have no idea that there’s something on your face.

The undoubtedly palpable tension in the room almost reaches down his throat and pulls the words from his vocal chords in an effort to dispel the heavy air circulating around the both of you.

“There’s… uh… you have flour…”

Donghyuck still hasn’t broken the less than comfortable eye contact, but he’s unable to look away for reasons unknown to him. After an agonizing amount of seconds your brain switches on again, albeit slowly, and you’re able to properly process the position you’re currently in. Your own hand starts to lift and though the movement is slight, it’s enough to draw his eyes down to it and he finds the strength to complete his goal at last.

His thumb swipes across your cheek and without even thinking he pops it into his mouth once again, forgetting about the unpleasant taste of flour. The way that the boy’s face scrunches up when the bitter powder meets his tongue doesn’t eliminate the awkwardness completely, but it’s a start. You hastily make an effort to avert your gaze as you frantically wonder if he caught your face that’s surely as warm as a blazing fireplace, all because he did the unthinkable with that stupid finger of his.

You won’t let yourself dwell on how his hand is just the right size to cradle the side of your head, or how much nicer his lips look up close, or how they must taste like the blueberries that he snuck into his mouth as you made the cobbler, or how you wished he had used his lips on your cheek instead of his thumb.

How you wish he had closed the almost nonexistent distance between your flushed faces.

These thoughts do nothing to ease the steadily growing heat that’s currently taking over your skin. Your eyes land on the glass pan and you take the opportunity to grab it, acting as a sort of distraction for your mind and also as something to snap you both out of your embarrassed hazes.

You get the finished dessert into the oven with no trouble after that, and now you have a little over half an hour of time to kill before it’s ready, so Donghyuck leads you into the nicely furnished family room and plops down onto the plush couch. When you don’t immediately follow he glances up at you, sensing that you’re still hesitant after the awkward moment. He smiles softly and almost apologetically, as if he’s sending a silent signal that you’ll both move past it soon enough, an invitation to put the incident behind the two of you. And you accept it.

You take a deep breath before you sit down next to him, sinking into the cushions underneath and behind you. The material dips slightly under the weight of both your bodies and gravity itself seems to be in control as it pushes you together, shoulders bumping and the sides of your legs being pressed up against each other. Thankfully, the television roars to life with the laughter of a live audience on one of your favorite shows, and you exhale a puff of air you didn’t even know you were holding in. With every scene that lights up the large display, you curl up further and further into his side, his arm migrating across the back of the sofa and winding around your shoulder only a few centimeters at a time.

This feels like home. Donghyuck feels like home.

The buzzer of the oven interrupts when you’re halfway through another episode, prompting you to jump to your feet just as abruptly as the alarm-like noise had started blaring. Consequently his arm flops down by his side as he mentally curses the loud intrusion into what had become a comfortable atmosphere, an atmosphere that was finally surrounding you again after what felt like an eternity but had really only been an hour.

In no time, you’re returning from the kitchen, the warm blueberry contents of the cobbler oozing out onto the flowery pair of plates you had grabbed from the cupboard. Handing one to him and setting the other aside for yourself, you quickly go back around the corner to grab two tall cups of cold milk. Your second time joining him on the couch comes more easily, almost all of the earlier tension having dispersed into the room, wafting out the windows along with the delicious scent of the fruit baked into the sweet, flaky crust. In fact, you’re fairly sure that it’s strong enough for even his neighbors down the road to smell. Which reminds you: you need to package some up to deliver to them tomorrow, per Donghyuck’s suggestion.

You’re most definitely sure that he smells the aroma, of course, because it’s hard to ignore the eagerness with which he takes a large bite of the dessert. “We make better bakers that I thought we would,” the boy comments, taking a sip of milk. The white mustache that it creates above his top lip when he lifts the glass to his mouth is enough to make you giggle, and you’re unaware that this predictable reaction was his objective all along. He grins, rather satisfied.

With your stomach now full, a head-plaguing drowsiness begins to set in. It slowly fills your senses enough for you to drift off, fork nearly falling out of your hand and onto the floor before he catches it, along with your weight when you slump down against his shoulder. Donghyuck is barely able to reach one of the end tables, and he sets the dishes and silverware down next to the now empty cups. Your body unconsciously clings to his like a koala to a branch, with both hands clutching one of his arms and a leg hooked over his thighs.

He takes one look at you and wishes he could pause time, to stay here forever. It’s not every day that he meets someone who can easily match the amount of snark he possesses. Simultaneously, you also balance out the friendship you share with your compassion and sense of wonder about the world, always evident in your morning routine when you come to the fields. Donghyuck has noticed that you bring out those same qualities in him, perhaps more than anyone else ever has. And just like you’re holding him right now, he vows to hold on to you.

As much as he doesn’t want to get up and for the evening to progress, he knows he should, that it has to. So he manages to detach from the hold of your limbs, gently pushing himself up and off of the couch so he doesn’t disturb you.

Glancing at the large antique clock above the doorway that leads out into the hall, Donghyuck realizes it’s much later than he thought. He decides to turn in for the night, but on a regular day he usually finds himself still awake well past midnight, despite the need to wake up early the next morning and run the farm from the crack of dawn.

Since you’re tired and he doesn’t want to risk you waking up alone in an unfamiliar bed and place, he comes to the conclusion that he’ll join you. Only leaving your side for a moment, he puts the cobbler into the refrigerator and turns off the kitchen lights behind him as he goes. Softly padding halfway up the stairwell, Donghyuck makes sure there’s enough light for him to see where he’s going before making his way back into the living room one last time. He tucks one arm underneath both of your bent knees as tenderly as he can, and places the other behind the middle of your back, hand gently curling against your waist. He carries you with probably the most delicacy he’s shown in his entire life.

Going upstairs is generally an easy task, but doing so while carrying another person is a different story. He would never forgive himself if he were to hurt you in any way. If even your foot happened to bump the wall next to you, a burst of frustration at himself and his own carelessness would surface regardless of the impact’s intensity

Your position in his arms gives him yet another opportunity to gaze upon your peaceful expression, and he begins to think more deeply about what you are to him. Looking forward to your visits makes his work so much more enjoyable and worth it. You’re someone who truly appreciates what he and his family do for a living and you faithfully support them with your business as a customer whenever you can, which is a rare thing to find in most people that come. Most are just bored and in need of something to occupy themselves or their kids. Sometimes they don’t even pick that many berries. But you always make sure to bring your own basket, which holds just as many as if not more than the ones the farm provides, and fill it to the brim. In his eyes, you’re special.

Amidst the mostly-asleep state that you’re in, your eyes just barely open far enough to see a blurry picture of Donghyuck’s face as he carries you through the house and up into the bedroom he had suggested you share. He sets you down onto the soft mattress before pulling the covers up to your stomach, retreating into the attached bathroom to quickly change into a thin t-shirt and his favorite pair of plaid pajama pants.

The memory of that conversation floods back to you. Initially, you refused the offer, saying that he would rest better if he had more space to move around. But being the clingy person he is, he had pouted desperately as you struggled to stand your ground in the discussion. “Fine,” you had huffed, only half-frustrated with those doe eyes he always uses to get his way, and your lips had great difficulty holding back a smile.

The hum of electricity that can be heard emanating from the next room snaps you out of these thoughts, and is enough to wake you up a bit more. Your gaze scans the surroundings for a minute or two before he opens the door again, his eyes now looking as heavy as your own.

Donghyuck joins you under the blanket and shifts to lay on his side, facing you. It’s funny that you’re both able to adjust to a situation so intimate and new almost instantly. Still on your back, your head turns and you’re conscious enough to raise an eyebrow at the boy. There’s that pout again.

“Please?” He mumbles, his bottom lip jutting out in an action he’s perfected. You know exactly what he’s after: cuddles.

You don’t even try to hide the playful roll of your eyes as you scoot a little closer, but it’s not close enough for him. He gets impatient, meeting you halfway, and this time it’s him that flings a leg over yours. An endearing, small noise of contentment from him fills your ears as you take notice of his arms, now interlocked behind your neck and around your shoulders. You melt into the snug position, a hand landing on his forearm that’s laying across your chest. Turning ever so slightly to the side, your other hand winds around his middle and eventually rests just above his hip, pulling him into you even more. Donghyuck nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, a few strands of your hair tickling his skin as he sighs in complete and utter bliss.

Determined to savor the moment until the irresistible inevitability of slumber starts to overtake you once more, you fight to stay awake with all of your might. But in what you thought was only the blink of an eye, the glittering stars visible through the bay window’s sheer drapes morph into the pale golden rays of first light. There’s a soft murmur of your name along with an unintentional, almost imperceptible peck to the place where his lips meet your skin, and you’re wide awake. Not to mention a little shocked.

He’s utterly unfazed, though, slowly waking up now that the sun has gotten brighter, its beams filtering into the room and hitting his already glowing face that becomes a gorgeous honey-colored hue.

Donghyuck reluctantly withdraws his arms from your form after one last embrace, effortlessly rising from the wrinkled bed sheets and offering his hand to you when you start to do the same. A sleepy smile makes a home on his features and he reminds you of your task to deliver a portion of the dessert you made to his next-door neighbors.

That’s exactly what you do, first making yourselves presentable in the bathroom by smoothing down wild bed hair and freshening up your faces with cool water. Being around to see each other’s natural morning states is a major act of trust, and he doesn’t miss an opportunity to poke fun at you for it.

“How long does it normally take for you to do your hair every day before you come here?” His tone is dripping with feigned innocence, but the sly grin on his lips says otherwise.

“Shut up, Hyuck.”

Tupperware container in hand, your shoes step in rhythm with his as you amble along the grassy shoulder of the street together. Somehow you end up hand-in-hand by the time you reach his neighbors’ front patio.

“Donghyuck!” The elderly woman at the door greets him with a twinkling voice, her husband coming into view soon after. “Look who it is, honey,” she motions fondly to the boy who they both once knew to be much shorter and younger, but now is all grown up before their eyes. “You’re getting so tall. It seems like only yesterday you were scurrying through the blueberry fields and waving to us through the gaps in the fence.”

“Yes ma’am, it does,” he responds politely. The couple has been living there for as far back as he can remember, and quite honestly they feel as if they’ve become part of his family, too.

Her warm brown eyes light up. “Is this the customer your mother was telling me about last week? She mentioned how close you’ve become, and now I’m finally seeing it for myself. You make a lovely pair.”

“Oh—” Donghyuck startles. Not much can get him flustered, but he hadn’t exactly been anticipating for his mom to recount all the things he’s said about you to the sweetest and most innocent of elderly couples. Of course they would assume that there’s something going on.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, with you. He wouldn’t mind at all, really. He’ll just need to have a word about a little thing called privacy with his mother later.

You see the glint of panic in his eyes and speak up. It’s not often he makes such an easy target for teasing. “Thank you,” you state graciously, the smugness in the statement only noticeable to him. “We’re very happy together.” He feels you lean into him, fingers unwrapping from his and gripping the other side of his waist. You know exactly what you’re doing, and so does he.

Almost forgetting to hand over the slices of cobbler you’d cut earlier, Donghyuck nudges you to do so, and the four of you exchange thanks and farewells before you’re on your way back to the farm.

“Happy together, huh?”

“Shut up, Hyuck.” You mumble something else afterwards that he doesn’t quite catch.

“What’s that? Didn’t hear you,” he sings, stopping in his tracks. You do the same. “Shut up and what?”

“...And kiss me.”

After many days and many nights spent wondering, you can confirm that his lips do, indeed, taste as sweet as the blueberries in those fields.

[pillage-and-lute]

Eskel is a Fanboy (Part 2, Electric Boogaloo)

This is a second part of this. Which in turn was inspired by this.

Please note, this is less funny and a little deeper than the first part, despite the title. Discussions of FEELINGS, hardcore, but also the trials. Brief mention of hypothermia.

Read it here on Ao3

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

Geralt arrived late that year. Vesemir had been pacing the corridors, a worry line between his brows, for the last week. The snows were getting worse and worse and innocent snowflakes joined other completely harmless snowflakes until a very un-harmless amount of snow had piled on the track and the passes. 

Lambert, alongside Aiden (another reason for the creases on Vesemir’s brow) lounged in the great hall, completely unconcerned. 

“He’s stayed later and later every year,” Lambert said, lazily. “He keeps lingering with that bard of his. Why should this year be any different?” His eyes were half closed as Aiden played idly with his hair.

“If he doesn’t get here in the next two days he’ll be too late,” Vesemir snapped.

“I recognize I’m the outsider, here,” Aiden said. “But I don’t always winter with my troupe, and Lambert occasionally spends winters away...”

Eskel shook his head. The constant bickering was impacting his reading and he’d long ago marked his place in his book and set it aside. “Not Geralt,” he said with certainty. “He always winters at home.”

Aiden levelled a chilly, yellow gaze. “You love him.”

“He’s my brother in arms.”

“He’s special to you.”

Eskel wanted to growl and snap, but Aiden wasn’t saying it in a malicious way. There was no threat or accusation in his words. If there had been it would have been pure hypocrisy, what with the way Lambert currently lay in his lap. Eskel had spent a week pretending not to see the pairs’ furtive kisses.

“He is special to me,” Eskel said at last. “I found him, after his second trial, was given special allowance to be away from training to help him. Whatever happened, with the mutagens, he was deaf and blind for nearly two weeks. And had as much strength as a kitten.”

Vesemir’s pacing gained a sharper edge. “I wish I’d killed the mage that called for that second trial.” He said. Lambert and Eskel made eye contact, they were familiar with the self loathing in Vesemir’s voice. Lambert was angry at the world and his whole situation, but they had all forgiven Vesemir years ago. There was no choice but to mend bridges with a pack so small. Still, they rarely talked about it.

“You killed the mage that called for his third,” Eskel said, quietly.

Aiden’s head jerked up. He’d been a witcher, albeit a different school. He knew the trials, he knew the pain, but three trials... “They tried...?”

Eskel nodded his confirmation. “Geralt survived, and the mages who ran the trials wanted to see how many he could take.”

“So I split his throat on my knife,” Vesemir said. There was no satisfaction in his tone, but just an empty statement of action.

“I didn’t know it was you that killed the mage,” Lambert said. “I just knew one had been killed for the suggestion. I heard they made the witcher drink hemlock as punishment.” There was a warmer light of respect in Lambert’s eyes than usually shone there.

“They did,” Vesemir said. “It didn’t kill me.”

That was it for conversation that night, but Eskel went to bed thinking about Aiden’s words. 

He’s special to you. 

Geralt was special to him. There was an understanding, something gentle and kind between them. Geralt and Eskel lived their separate lives and had lovers and adventures. But for three months of the year they had each other.

Eskel had sometimes wondered if there was something wrong with him. He never gave his heart to anyone. Sex meant nothing and love didn’t happen, and he could only love Geralt for three months at a time. 

Except that wasn’t true at all, because of course Eskel loved Geralt all the time. It was only a softer kind of love than he read about in poetry. He didn’t need fiery passion and desperate declarations of love. He had a steady love for Geralt, as sure as the beating of his heart. It was as good a love story as any, but now Geralt had his bard and a tiny, hidden part of Eskel whispered “If Only.”

If only he and Geralt could lounge like Aiden and Lambert, to pet each others’ hair and share small kisses in the corners. If only Eskel really had Geralt for those three months. He had no doubt that the feelings were mutual, but something in their lives had been built apart, and it would take something powerful to shape them anew.

The next evening brought a blizzard. And Geralt.

It took both Aiden and Lambert to shut the door behind Geralt with the way the wind blew in around him. It curled and flickered shards of ice through the air that melted in the heat of the hall, dampening Geralt’s old, black cloak. Which he was holding around himself like a cocoon. Vesemir took Geralts cloak for him, which revealed what he’d been holding. 

Huddled against Geralt, nose red and face pale, was a young man in a blue cloak. 

Geralt bundled him in front of the fire without a word, pulling away the damp cloak and hanging it to dry. Vesemir brought blankets as Geralt pried the instrument case from the man’s hands.

A lute case.

Eskel’s pulse picked up. This was obviously the bard. This was Jaskier, Oxenfurt’s most prodigious poet. He’d studied with Rumi and Alighieri and Li Bai. In just a few years he’d reformed witchers’ reputations. They’d all been treated better these past few years. More money, less tar and feathers. Eskel went to sit beside Jaskier to beg him for stories but Geralt met his gaze, smiled softly, and shook his head.

Eskel restrained himself. Jaskier was clearly staving off shock from the cold, as well as hypothermia. Instead of doing what he really wanted to do (lay himself prone at Jaskier’s feet and worship his skill with words) he put on a kettle for tea. 

Aiden and Lambert make eye contact with each other, nod to Geralt, and leave. Vesemir also makes a tactful retreat. This time was just for Eskel and Geralt. And the bard shivering on a pile of cushions next to the fire. 

“He had a hard time on the Killer,” Geralt said, quietly.

“It’s called the Killer for a reason.”

“He begged me to come, I told him it would be too dangerous,” Geralt whispered. “He followed me and I couldn’t make him leave, that’s why I was late.”

“Vesemir’s been worried,” Eskel said, staring at the fire. He sat on the cushions, beside the bard, without taking his eyes from the coals. Geralt sat on the other side of Jaskier, rubbing carefully over the bard’s chilly hands, pulling off the woolen mittens and gently warming each knuckle.

“I had to go slower for him,” Geralt said. Between the two of them, the bard seemed mostly asleep. His eyelashes flickered on his cheeks, struggling to stay open.

“You can sleep,” Eskel whispered. “You’ll wake up, you’re cold but not in danger.” He took the other chilly hand. “Just sleep.”

Blue eyes slipped closed and Eskel took the kettle off the fire so it didn’t whistle. 

“He was so desperate to be here, he wanted to see the Keep,” Geralt said. “And I wanted him to come. To meet you.”

“I did make you promise I’d get to meet him,” Eskel said, sitting back down and resting a hand on Geralt’s shoulder. “I think I’ve read everything he’s ever written.”

“That’s not why I wanted him to meet you,” Geralt said.

Eskel’s breath caught. They were talking about it, sort of. “I know,” he said.

The bard curled up a little, like a nautilus shell. Geralt lay down on the cushions behind him and Eskel made himself comfortable. Sleep and warmth and the smell of the pine fire lulled him slowly to sleep. Just as he was drifting off, Jaskier reached out in his sleep and placed one hand, less chilly than it was, on Eskel’s arm. It stayed there until the morning.

“So True Love’s Waste wasn’t inspired by a person?” Eskel asked over breakfast, mouth full of porridge. 

Jaskier shook his head, gulping down hot tea. “No, I was out on a bender with some friends and we saw this washerwoman’s cat trying to catch a soap bubble, right?”

Eskel nodded, entranced.

“It was so totally focused on catching this soap bubble, it’s eyes were all wide and determined, like all it wanted was the bubble, but when it caught the bubble...”

“It popped,” Eskel laughed. “And you wrote a poem that has been deemed the best love poem of the last hundred years about it.”

Jaskier chuckled. “Art is more trite and derivative than people think.”

Eskel reached out and touched Jaskier’s wrist, looking into those heavily-lashed eyes. “Your work could never be called trite, or derivative.”

Behind Jaskier, Eskel saw something flash in Geralt’s eyes, and he stood from the table, clearing his plate, but then Jaskier was telling a story about Rumi, his former professor, and Eskel’s attention was diverted.

The next week passed in peace, for the most part. Repairs to the keep were ongoing, but halted when the snow was heavy. Vesemir kept them training and the library, neglected by all but Eskel, kept Jaskier busy. At mealtimes and in the evenings Eskel and Jaskier chatted about art and music and life on the Path. But Geralt was subdued, something tired and sad gleaming in his golden eyes. He wouldn’t talk about it, and he fled when Eskel tried.

It hurt, that Geralt suddenly wouldn’t talk to him, but Eskel knew the white wolf better than anyone, so he cornered him in the training yard one afternoon and pinned him down.

“Talk. To. Me,” he panted, grinding Geralt’s shoulders into the flagstones.

“Nothing to say,” Geralt grunted.

“Bullshit.”

“Nothing!”

“You keep hiding! It’s not nothing!”

Geralt kicked his feet up, flipping them both over and freeing himself. He stood over Eskel who was still laying on the ground. “You can have him,” he said, beginning to walk away.

Eskel snagged his ankle, bringing his idiot wolf down to the ground without remorse. “You’re stupid.”

“I’m not, he adores you. You have so much in common, it makes sense.”

Eskel remembered the conversation of the year before. Please don’t take my bard.

“I’m not taking your lover boy from you,” he snapped.

“He’s not my lover boy.”

“He would be if you would only ask him.”

“He deserves better.”

“He wants you.”

“He wants you,” Geralt howled. “He looks at you like you got out a ladder and personally nailed the moon to the sky. Every time you talk he hangs on your words.”

“He looks at you the same way,” Eskel said, quietly. “And I...” He paused. This was so close to the thing they never talked about.

“You don’t look at me that way,” Geralt whispered.

“But I feel it all the same.”

The admission rang in the empty training yard, despite it being barely a whisper.

“I want you to have him, to be with him, because the two of you are made for eachother. It was obvious to me before you’d even met. I just wish,” Geralt stopped, his voice growing tight. 

“What do you wish?”

“I just hate that it hurts so much. I love you both, I do, so so much, and all I want is you two happy, and you’ll be happy together, but I just wish it didn’t cut me out.”

Eskel rolled over and bumped his forehead to Geralt’s. There were tear tracks in the dirt there. “It doesn’t have to. That’s a silly rule and you made it up for yourself. I love you both and he loves us both, so you can have us both.”

Geralt sat up, bringing Eskel with him, then pulled him into a kiss that burned. It was a simple press of their lips together but Eskel felt like he’d been struck by lightning.

“Oh,” came a quiet voice from the nearby doorway. Jaskier was standing there, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. “I’ll just--”

“Stay,” Eskel said, chuckling. He pulled Jaskier down to sit on the flagstones with them. “I think Geralt has something he wants to tell you.”

Geralt looked nervous. He swallowed a couple times, eyes darting over Jaskier’s face. “I...” He said. “Um, what Eskel means is that... um, I”

“Oh you great big oaf,” Eskel said. “Jaskier, he loves you, he’s absolutely mad about you. He just can’t say it because he loves me too and it’s taken him the better part of a century to tell me.”

Jaskier beamed, his blush growing. “And you?” he said.

“I’m not sure I love you yet,” Eskel said. “But I think I will.”

“I think I will too,” Jaskier said, then he leaned in and brushed a soft kiss to Eskel’s lips, off center, so it brushed his scar and part of his cheek too. Then he kissed Geralt the same way. 

“Aiden’s going to be so pissed that he lost the bet,” Jaskier said, as if he hadn’t just rocked both witchers’ worlds with a mere kiss. “He bet Lambert you wouldn’t figure it out until next week.”

“You knew,” Eskel said, touching the tips of his fingers to where his face was still tingling from the kiss.

“They way Geralt talks about you, well...” Jaskier said, smiling at Geralt. “And then the way you talk about him,” he smiled at Eskel. “And the way you both look at me, I knew. I just wasn’t sure you knew.” His smile shifted into something bashful and a little insecure. It was an odd look on his normally confident face. “And it seemed too much to assume you both would really want me, I’m not all,” he gestured at his shoulders and arms, obviously comparing their builds.

Eskel couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle. “We don’t care about that,” he said, carding his hand through Jaskier’s hair and revelling in the way the bard leaned into his touch. “I’ve seen Geralt with a face full of pimples, and I mean full, and that was back when he was calling himself Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegarde. It isn’t about looks.” He trailed his eyes across Jaskier. “And even if it was we wouldn’t find you wanting.”

“He’s right,” Geralt said, pressing a little kiss right behind Jaskier’s ear. “We find nothing about you wanting.”

“You both are going to leave me wanting if you’re not careful,” Jaskier whined, borderline laciviously. He leaned back against Geralt and pulled Eskel closer, kissing Eskel’s cheek chastely in spite of his words. When he turned to kiss Geralt’s cheek too Eskel nuzzled closer, feeling Geralt’s arms pull him into the pair of them.

“You have to promise to write me into your poetry, after all this,” he said.

Jaskier laughed, head tilting back and eyes crinkling at the corners. “As if I haven’t already,” he whispered. 

Three months later the great bard Jaskier debuted his latest poetry anthology. Silver and Steel was praised by academics across the continent, although the line about being eaten alive was highly debated. Jaskier’s sudden penchant for high collars might have answered the questions, but he wasn’t about to give away the secret. 

[yostresswritinggirl]

Antinomy

Part 2; things are brewing. VIBE

“Do you know the spiritual meaning of 11? What about in numerology? You’ll find it quite intriguing, funny even… until it starts making sense.” You’ve witnessed and harnessed the way and days he had grown to be; this fic enumerates the trials of the 11th before he became a Harbinger under your care. From strangers to mentor to friends to love- Childe made a grave mistake, now you’re once again strangers.

Pairing -> Childe x Harbinger!Fem!Reader

Word Count -> 5217

Themes -> Friends to admirers, mentor, fluffy, suddenly ANGST

Series -> #Sojourner Specials (600 Followers Event) Part 1

Warning -> Blood and injury

Maybe it was stubbornness, his unhinged desire for the thrill of a fight, or you mistaken misguidance. Many possibilities, really, but Childe knows it had nothing to do with all of those. You're not to blame for his mistakes, but he sure as hell would have to pay for the mess he just created.

vi. fontaine

The show felt like a dance made to lure and trance such audience, and despite his resolve and difference in agendas, the strong Harbinger had been victim to the beauty of the show. Of swaying thin clothes and alluring flicks of the hips.

“We’re not co-workers, we don’t know each other, remember that.”

Tambourines and lyres synced through the performance as men and women alike cheered and stumbled to the songs. The Snezhnayan dancers set the bar high in terms of beauty as the Fatui disguised as performers indulged the crowd in symphony and dance, as if the whole nation was under a mania, no one saw and no one heard. They just followed lead as the agents lulled their own targets into a sense of security and joy.

In the middle of the crowd you lead the choreography as the main dancer, distinguished by the colors of your garb and its grandiosity, yet still respectably covered compared to the other performers. Your main objective was to catch the havoc of a man that left the headquarters of your organization in flames at his wake; and yet, it was instead Childe that was allured to your spell.

An intoxicated man had been eyeing your behind with drooling eyes for a while now, and with the assistance of liquid courage, he reached his hand out to get a feel- when it landed on gray pants of firmness. “Oh my, I didn’t know you swing that way, citizen,” you whipped around to see Childe directly behind you, who was also has his head angled to look behind him where a Fontaine man stumbled back in disgust. His hand clutched to his chest as if it were burned. “Sad news tho, I’m off the table, try someone else maybe.”

Before you can register the edge in his voice, he was already guiding you by the hand back to your dancing stride. You were momentarily stunned but devolved into a glare at his current recklessness, “Come now, Lady Viscaria.” He addressed you by your dancer name. “The whole world is high in the clouds around us, this would be a moment no one will remember.” You didn’t even need to look to know he was right, and you succumbed with a sigh.

Childe didn’t realize just how small your hands are compare to his, the softness of it in contrast to the rough texture of his gloves. If he knew, if only he knew, he would have removed them before you had entertained the idea. Your steps were lithe and your turns were grace manifested, eyes closed yet a gentle smile equipped on your face, the ones you had been wearing ever since you started the performance. “So this is how you fight.” He mumbled with his own grin when he had spun you back against his form, your feet glides against the pavement yet barely touching it as you seemingly floated to place. If he hadn’t known better he would have thought you were an Anemo Vision wielder.

Soon enough the square dissipated to give way to the ferocious dance you two had eased into. Steps became more pointed, arms tensed and strong, and the turns was almost reminiscent of martial arts as you seemingly evade each other’s swings. Suddenly a kick aimed to hit his chest forced him to jump back, and at the other side you dropped your foot, a taunting smirk and a condescending gaze set upon him. His blue eyes widened.

And the elegance of the tango from earlier turned into a vicious round of capoeira, powerful kicks and jumps yet not made to touch each other. Your figure leaped into a crescent kick when he had made a sweep to hit your ankles, him immediately rolling to the side to evade the blow. Dropping to the ground with your ankles and knees bent, a leg outstretched you gasped, and went into a running start towards him, “Lift!” A single command yet he knew what he needed to do.

Gripping your hips upon your leap his strong arms easily eased you high up, your legs were kicked high up and one bent farther back and you steadied yourself by gripping on to his shoulders. The atmosphere turned tense and the only sound you can hear were the ragged breaths you heave up close. And the crowd around then explodes into a round of applause.

Childe seemed to have snapped out of a trance from the foreign noise, breaking the eye contact you both held as he slowly placed you down. There was a sudden bashfulness to him then. But was once again pulled away from his reverie when you quite literally pulled him out of the square into a dark alley, eyes glinting dangerously as a toothy smirk donned your lips, “I saw him, the redhead.”

...

The chains felt sentient. As it flies forward to try and capture him, Childe conjured a wave to sweep it away only for it to change angles to strike at him again. It pierced through the pavement he was once on before it moved to retract back to the owner. At the other side, Childe had a glimpse of your more successful fight with the fugitive as your polearm easily deflected the advances of the chains, even if it gets caught sometimes. Your Cryo Vision would always make quick work of freezing and breaking the chains.

None of you expected a non-elemental fight, and this seemed more complicated of a battle than you would have thought. The man carried with him the aura you feel when you use your delusion, you grimly thought as you ducked out of another barrage, sensing the frustration and desperation of the enemy. You were barely breaking a sweat, you’d see his red eyes take notice, and you weren’t even using both of your hands to fight. With another smirk, your Vision then glowed by your side as you raised your arm. The hooded man braced for impact, but instead he felt a force hit his lower half- water current from Childe, and suddenly it solidified to ice upon your avalanche. His hand where the strange device were also covered to render him useless.

An arrow and a spear’s tip was now aimed to his heart. “Well, well, that was a nice fight, Ragnvindr,” you leaned down close enough to see the finer details of his hawk mask, you saw his eyes squint into a glare. He knows he lost. By your side Childe relaxed his arms and dematerialized his bow, the next part should be yours to work on. “Thank you for your dedication, but this atrocity ends now.” You straightened your back and took a step back, angling your spear to his throat. As his eyes close to succumb to death, your head would angle itself slightly to see Childe’s reaction

when a golden flicker appeared past his shoulder.

“CHILDE!” The devil himself felt the air leave his lungs at the force that punched at his chest, enough to immobilize him as he was punted to the ground. Before he could even recover, the pavement around shifted and crumbled to create a wall between him and the frozen Diluc. He heard the ice breaking and two pairs of feet scrambling away. “Fuck, he had an accomplice,” he breathed as he took his stand, about to give chase to the escapees. That is until he registered his mentor-

barely standing with a stalagmite pierced through her stomach.

“Chi...lde.” You gripped the pointed tip of the structure to keep yourself up as your legs started to lose feeling. He was there hovering over you, unsure where to touch or how to assist. Fuck. Fuck. This was his fault. “Go... chase, I’ll be- I’ll be fine...”

And then you blacked out.

vii. seven correspondence

There were multiple parchment of the same color littering his office desk filled with different lengths of paragraphs. Childe's quarters in the palace was cozy and wide, and nothing could be heard but the sound of his fountain pen scratching the surface of the paper with ease.

"Letters are important in Snezhnaya," you perked up from your unfocused gaze from his window, where you silently watched the brewing blizzard manifesting outside. Your eyes made contact with his genuinely gentle ones that still lingered at the task at hand, "why not write one?"

"Letters are commonplace in Snezhnaya," you corrected as you made your way to his side to snoop in his letters. He did not seem to mind. After all you'd pretty much already the whole of his family that one awkward encounter. He was working on the seventh letter and your eyes lingered around the six finished ones: there was one for each younger siblings, one meant for the two older brothers, another for the older sister, and one for his parents. "It's not necessary for me to write, I don't have an address in mind to begin with."

Is that so, he mumbled under his breath before the conversation died down once again to little scratches. A lot of his words had tales to tell about his stay in Fontaine, you realized the most details were poured into the contents for his parents. At the mention of this nation, your hand ghosts over your stomach.

The bandages from long ago had already been dispatched. And yet the stiffness of it has still affected your composure as well as the weird pull of the skin from the stitches. Only a nasty scar was left in its wake to remind you of the failed encounter and it forced you to make drastic wardrobe changes to your performing attire.

You saw Childe's shoulders slightly tense at your action.

"Childe," his grip on the pen tightened yet he kept his head down. You didn't mind. His mind was going overdrive again, probably. "Who are you writing that last letter for?"

He felt like he'd dodged an arrow over the way he had relaxed, slumped down even when he met eyes with better resolution within it. "It's for a special someone," his signature smile was back, "I've met her long ago and I've always made sure to send her a letter yearly as thanks."

Thanks? "Thanks?" The letter (it was short, you realized) was already folded before you could peek at the words within. You knew Childe was good-looking, but for him to have a girlfriend waiting for years as he drowns in his work, quite irrational and yet painful. Painful... to you?

"I've met a girl back when I was 14," he was suddenly up and bustling as he bundled up his letters. Urgent you followed to listen to his tale as best as you can with his long legs. "I never knew her name or her face, but she saved me from the wolves back in Morepesok. I never properly gave her my thanks, so yearly I would leave letters at the woods where she'd gone, and hope that she'll be able to read them and know that I lived because of her." You already halted your advances to chase after him as you stood before the doors of the Palace. He didn't seem to mind, he kept going until he was gone.

...Morepesok was a seaside fishing village with a vast white forest by the edges in which ferocious wolves and bears usually haunt. After your promotion to the Palace, you had never once set foot in the village, much less the woodland. Where you are right now.

You held a steady hand against your stomach as you retraced the familiar route you'd gone, something so far away you would have expected to forget it by now. That was six years ago, you counted as you reached the clearing in horror of its emptiness, there should be six letters here by now.

A snapping twig had you whirling to look behind you. "So, it really was you." His gentle blue orbs had met your widened ones, breathless you both were, but for different reasons.

"So you lied about the letters," the mocking pout on your lips had made him laugh. A sprinkle of red dusts his cheeks, and he was quick to hide it with the familiar letter on his hand.

"I didn't lie about this one," your upturned palms received the crispy envelope, carefully opening the seal and unfolding its contents, "I wanted to make sure I was right."

'Your sacrifice had given me a new chance, a new life, a new beginning. I wish I was there to thank you for protecting me, but this time, I will get stronger and make sure-'

"I'll be the one protecting you from now on." He finished, and the red dust over your own cheeks felt like torches made to melt the mightiest icicles.

viii. fleeting glances

Signora had always been the type of person to only make appearances when necessary, but most of her dirty work were done by her subordinates, her own little army. She's the coordinator and observer at the back as things were weaved into place for her. Like a flower on the wall, the Fair Lady knows and notices details.

The first one was by the entrance, the second was by the veranda. The third, fourth and fifth were by the hallways. The sixth was by the throne room. The seventh was outside. And the eight was that in front of her—

Childe disliked being in the same area or even breathing space as her, this much Signora knew. He was a kid still under training over the ways of the Fatui, but there was nothing more he hated than the way the Fair Lady handles her work, her soldiers. But it came with the aesthetic, and he had no other means to pry until he had finally grasped the way the cogs turn in this organization known as the Fatui.

The youngest Harbinger never looked her directly in the eye or even dare spare her the glance when it was not needed. And in all honesty, it was quite bothersome the first few times. After all, Tartaglia carried with him a certain charm.

His eyes would either narrow or be guarded for any other Harbinger that comes his way, respectful or dismissive, the options fleet through those whenever. But there was one humane and warm look he gives at special occasions, for a special someone, and Signora finally witnessed it in full view and detail—

The crease between his eyebrows would immediately ease as his eyes break free from its squinted, slanted form. The dark depths at the middle would dilate as his expression quirks up, teeth usually visible through parted lips as he dons an easy smile. And Signora would be taken aback by the immediate change as she follows the trail of his stare.

The gold was the first to strike with the way the trinkets hang by the waist, and the warm and mellow colors so contrary to the Fatui colors draws away the unease of onlookers. It was to make sure that no association with the Fatui would be made, that was your calculated explanation was upon your choice of 'uniform.' You've just came from a short trip to Natlan to gather all data to be reported to the Tsaritsa, and during that time the 11th had been under no one's particular care.

You passed by their forms (pass is a strong word, they were off to the far side, honestly) with your report in hand, humming to yourself as you continued your way to the throne room. That demeanor only means that you had good news to tell, good news for everyone.

The glance was gone fast as the moment ended, and his hard look came albeit much lighter this time. But the way Signora smirked signified she'd noticed, and his look only grew stiffer.

"Come now, pretty boy, show that look often."

The Fair Lady's laugh echoed inside the Palace walls as Tartaglia stomps off to where you had gone, to wait after the dusk convention respectfully.

ix. years of employment

Of the many milestones that could have been celebrated, it was done in an odd number at the most peculiar time. Yes, it is no surprise for everyone to know that you had been working for the Fatui for nine whole years now. And honestly, you shouldn't have been surprised that your younger colleague with the weird ways of his Abyss-induced brains, decided that it was time your anniversary be celebrated instead of waiting another year for the double digits mark.

"Please tell me we're not going to your house again," you softly pleaded as Childe continued to guide you through the paths in the main city of Snezhnaya. "As much as I appreciate their caring atmosphere, I'm not too keen on the idea of pretending to be the head honcho of the toy-selling company of Snezhnaya."

To this, Childe guffawed to a boisterous laugh, pulling his hand away from your back to clutch at his convulsing stomach. You pursed your lips in distaste of his reaction, but then it would loosen up to a smile as you watched him still try to catch his breathe.

After that, the trip had continued with only small chatter in between as you descended further to the edges of the city. You haven't been to this area, simply because of the fact that there were no patrols needed around the cityless wasteland where you are headed, and the glint of surprise had fixed a knot at Childe's back. Relief painted his face.

And you found yourself in front of a frozen lake, with hanging lights decorating the leafless trees by it, and a small table filled to the brim with food. "Lady toyseller!" You shot a glare at your student who averted his gaze away easily to focus on his other siblings. This heretic lied—

"Big brother said it's a special occasion! To commemorate your anniversaries for being in the toyselling business!" Your glare died down to a look of confusion, and the family gathered back into a homely atmosphere. So it seems that Childe coincidentally joined the Fatui the same day as you, two years apart. And he said nothing about it.

"We've been celebrating since the last three years, if we had known, you could have been with us!" And with that you were pulled in by Tonia to the table where her mother was, congratulating you for your hardwork and patience as she offers you to taste some of the food they had brought for the picnic.

"I know you've been helping my son ever since he became a Harbinger," you looked up to Childe's mother in wonder as your mouth was currently stuffed with her delicious homemade Pelmeni. She gave a light laugh at the sight of your wide, curious eyes paired with stuffed cheeks. "Childe mentioned how you saved him when he ran away from him..." and the mother continued to spill the details you were never given the chance to hear from the man himself.

You suppose this was the cause of your perfectly crafted aura of trust, to lure in your targets and make them spill to their heart's contents as you indulge them. In the end, Childe's mother's true intention was to thank you for all that you had done for her son, and to help him cultivate into the best person he could be among the ranks of the Harbinger. You gulped the last bits of the dumpling, a shy smile placated on your cheek, "It is my honor to take him under my wing."

"Hey, master, I sure hope mum didn't say anything embarrassing about me while I was gone!" A hand holding a tissue softly wiped the cream at the edge of your lips as Childe- Ajax finally made his way over to your table.

"It's okay, really, it's normal for children to pee their bed." You mused as Childe's mother laughed at the way her son choked over his own spit. Ah, you were right.

The rest of the day was filled with ice-skating, something you have forgotten, clumsily held up by the three younger siblings as they expertly excelled in the field. And right after was a session of ice fishing with their father, who was greatly impressed by your strength upon reeling the 50-centimeter long tuna. Flopping on to the ice platform as if to chase the children on land.

"Don't want to stay? There's a spare room here, you can borrow my big sister's clothes for the night. It's a long way back to the Palace," he stood next to you outside the entrance of his home while you face the other direction.

You sighed. "Tartaglia, I'm your mentor. And as the 10th Harbinger, your ascension should be my priority." You didn't see the way his jaw clenched at the intonations of your words. "If it were a different circumstance-"

"Next week," the snow caught on to your lashes as you closed your eyes, basking at the cold that bites at your cheeks. "Will be my last try. And after that, please see me as your equal."

"Alright." Your hands trembled.

x. final spar

Fatuus lined the veranda surrounding the quadrangle in quiet anticipation, skirmishers and agents alike that had yet to be assigned under Harbinger supervision and even those who just had nothing better to do.

Childe had anticipated the spotlight, but it was a greater scale he was not comfortable on. He was lucky a Harbinger had yet to watch the spar, the last spar as he had promised, and it seemed the gossip had spread enough to alert the whole organization. The Delusion mask sat by the side of his hair as he watched you at the other end of the field.

Your eyes held no emotion as they stared through his soul. A different kind of emotion he'd have wanted to see. He thinks to himself at the thought of you once being in the same predicament as him, did you feel the same fear and worry as he did? Did it take you ten tries? Maybe more, maybe less?

Tartaglia said this will be the last spar, and the final chance for both sides to make it a fair fight (to give it their all). But when you suddenly disappeared and materialized above him with your spear ready to strike, he thought, maybe not this time either.

The spear collided with the dirt floor as blades of winds seem to have exploded from it, a series of gasps resounding through the crowd as they stepped away from the edge. Tartaglia softly landed back on his feet after the successful somersault, materializing his water polearm to strike his elemental slash from the distance. But you stood still, unscathed as the wave that was meant to slice you turned into ice before it could come any closer. Fuck, Tartaglia knew his Vision was weak to yours.

You charged at him once again with the boost of your Anemo delusion, your polearms clashing painfully as you both tried to get hits on each other. There was a nick at this cheek to draw the first blood, your dominant hand twirling the spear easily Tartaglia retreats back to avoid the wildly spinning blade.

Soon enough he dons his own mask and the real fight begins. Electric currents ran through the field as an icy fog starts to envelop the floor, superconduct reaction running the parameter of the field as the Fatuus back away further. The next time your blades meet, a crackle of lightning resounded through the whole palace. Smacking his blades upward, your spear quickly sweeps down to swipe at this ankles, forcing him to leap as the fog obscures the reach of your polearm. Mid-air, he was kicked on the chest as your acrobatic arms held you up and over.

Soon enough his hunger for victory begins to manifest, and his biggest advantage comes into play: overwhelming strength.

Tartaglia felt huge triumph when you finally used both of your hands to parry his blows, your feet sometimes sinking into the dirt floor under the pressure of his attack. For the first time in the fight, your facade cracked with a grimace as you held your polearm up against his dual blades. Quickly leaning away, you brought your foot up and pushed at the spear's shaft, enough to force him back as you leaped out of his range. There was sweat trickling at the back of your neck now, feeling the sizzle of the current on the slight moisture. You swiped your spear in a crescent motion as a snow avalanche bombarded Tartaglia's side when he tried to approach, giving you just enough time to breathe as he tries to free himself under the snow.

By the time he's set himself free, you were already running forwards with your hands gripping your spear at your right for a swiping motion. He fashions his dual blades as he too sprinted in the middle to clash, weapons encased with frost and electricity. In a split second, his arms raised to your left, knowing this was your non-dominant side would make it easy to send you flying at the angle of approach. A powerful blow against another was about to shake the whole Palace—

"Columbina!" The vagrant's voice pierced through the crackle of elements, and Tartaglia's eyes widened when he had noticed your foot slip at the distraction. The inertia of his arms unable to stop the course of action; superconduct and electro-charged reactions creating a powerful explosion as the iced fog seem to have imploded from the force.

Childe's moist hands trembled as his vision tries to refocus. There's a ringing in his ears as he tries to grip at his hands, the electricity coursing through his nerves to make it numb. He desperately closed and opened his fists, and when he finally settled his sights straight, the dripping red liquid had splattered all the way to his mask and arms. With hesitation his sights followed the trail of blood and frost splayed across the field barely visible as the mist still covered the floor with a thin veil, his steps halted at the sound of glass crunching underneath his shoes, and he didn't need to look to know what it was.

"GET THE MEDIC NOW, PREPARE THE INTENSIVE CARE UNIT!" Pedrelino's voice reverbed through the field as the few agents that finally recovered from the shock went into emergency actions, some running off and some running to the direction of where the blood trail ends.

There was an obvious pool of blood forming under you, as your whole torso was littered with the same redness. Your left ribcage was angled inwards in an anomalous way as the dual blades had logged itself in between the ribs. You were already unconscious as blood dripped from the side of your lips;

how unfortunate, Childe collapsed to his knees in front of you. You didn't get to congratulate him.

xi. eleventh of the fatui harbinger

His mission had been explained to him concisely and accurately alongside Signora's assignment right after he had been acknowledged as officially part of the Fatui. The throne room had itself full of the Harbingers (with a glaring absence of one) as the Tsaritsa empowered him with her will and concise plan, the gravity of the law and order of the universe and its incoming divine war finally weighing on his shoulders. It was, after all, his wish to end the ministrations of being under someone's supervision and finally walk his path of conquering.

A month after the fight had him standing by the piers of the Snezhnayan ocean. Here he will finally depart to Liyue where his true mission lays, as well as the franchise of the Northland Bank he'd have to oversee. The influx of information for both his and the other's works had his head reeling, pleading silently at the hope that you'd be there to reassure and clarify what exactly he needs to do.

But you're not. In fact, Childe hasn't seen you in the whole month after that fight. He was prohibited from approaching your ward as you were still unstable and fragile to risk; no, everyone was not allowed to enter, he assured himself. He had not seen nor heard you throughout the grieving process of a moment he should have been proud to boast.

During that time, Childe had also adamantly avoided Scaramouche.

He heaved a tired sigh as the consequences weighed his resolve once again, were you still unconscious? Are you still in critical condition or are you recovering? If things ended ever so differently, would you be there next to him to wave him off to his first major assignment? "Liyue, huh, that's a pretty nice nation."

Childe produced a strangled noise when he turned to his right, where you stood, watching the ocean horizon. Your hair was slightly disheveled yet framed your face naturally. There were bandages wrapped all over your torso, peeking out from the sleeves of your unusually covered attire, and your left arm settled on a sling meant to lessen the constraints of your side instead of sporting an actual broken limb. When Childe's calculating gaze settled on your face, you had a calm expression.

"Congratulations, you're finally on your way to your first mission."

"Thank you, although I heard it's quite different from what I'm used to. Besides seafood, too many new customs."

You produced a soft gasp as your eyes widened slightly. Childe stood guard, waiting for you to tell him what was wrong. "I'm a failure of a mentor," what. His eyes watched as you turned to face him (as he did) with an amused glint in your eyes paired by a light smirk. "I didn't get to teach you how to use chopsticks."

His face dropped into a deadpan, before you two harmonized into bouts of varying laughter. Your other hand placed itself on your chest to minimize the vibrations of your giggles, not wanting to put pain into yourself. A flash of hurt recognition passed through his eyes.

"Master, I'm so-"

"(Y/N)." You immediately interjected as you gazed at him past your eyelashes. His breath hitches.

"Ah, (Y/N)," you nodded at his experimental taste of your name and urged him to continue. He opens his mouth before closing it again, a silent debate within the depths of his brain, before his lips parted with a different thought. "Teach me when I come back, please?"

Your eyes widen in surprise and amusement, "I'm sure you'd pick it up easily."

You're not wrong, but he's adamant. "Nah, I'm sure I wouldn't, I heard they're really a handful. I'd rather wait for you."

Giggling again, you raised your mobile hand as he did own, exchanging the most genuine smile. "Okay, pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise."

I wrote this for two hours straight to the point that my left arm doesn't work anymore....

@moaa @kookieyachi @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @dandelion-dreams @snackgod @rxsalinee

[lovingnerdmaker]

What's The Magic Word?

Albus Dumbledore x Male Reader

Warnings: Dub-Con, Manipulation, SMUT

"How are you feeling?" His voiced echoed through the skin of my back, lips gently marking my skin, slowly but with an unrivaled passion I'd ever experience.

It was hard to think through the foggy haze, senses on fire as I knuckled the crimson sheets beneath me, I felt so full of him, borderline painfully but I wouldn't stop him, not when he had begged so desperately for me.

It had been a rough year for Albus, his Sister and Mother had died, his former lover had abandoned all contact and his Brother outright disowned him, it must've been enough to drive him insane, at least insane enough to wallow down in a back-alley pub and drink himself into a stupor, I'd never admit to him that seeing such an atteactive man there, teary-eyed and buzzed, sent my heart into a spiral.

I remembered asking if he was alright, if he needed a lift somewhere, but through the tears, he politely rejected the offer, auburn hair swaying over his shoulders.

"Can I ask you something?" He asked nursing what I thought was fire whiskey in his hands "do you believe people can be forgiven for their actions?"

"...." I didn't know how to respond, how could I respond to such a topic, he took the silence with a scoff.

"Sorry, just hating myself right now I'll just go-"

"I do." I had said it so suddenly, so firmly, it surprised me so. "I do believe people can be forgiven, so long as they understand the consequences of their actions." I watched his glassy dazed eyes begin to sparkle as he stared at you, the wrinkles of a smile pushing up the fine hairs of a blossoming moustache, he silently offered the seat next to him and you took it thankfully. He talked quietly about what had happened, and how he believed it all to be his fault, how his ignorance and inexperience had swallowed him like quicksand.

My hand lingered over his as the tears began to flow and I had expected him to flinch away, but he didn't, quite the opposite and just hugged me tightly against himself and cried into my shoulder. His hair smelt of fruits and ginger, and I felt guilty for abusing the proximity and circumstance to draw in his scent. I didn't say anything more, just paid for his drinks and left with the man in my arms.

"W-What are you doing?" He asked through a hoarse voice.

"Do you have a place to stay for the night?"  I whispered into his ears and he positively stretched into my touch.

"I hadn't planned that far ahead, no." I hummed in response, walking over to my car and setting him onto the hood to grab the keys.

"There's a hotel not far from here, it's no paradise resort but it should be enough-" I had my key in the manual lock when he grabbed your hand instantly, trembling softly as he pressed himself against me and leaned in to whisper.

"S-Sorry but can I stay with you tonight? I'd like to talk more with you, maybe get to know you better." His somehow slender and fair toned fingers grazed my shoulder and neck, awkwardly turning my gaze his way, the look in his eyes hiding more than a simple chat "please?"

"I don't want to take advantage of you, not like this." I held his shoulder in place with his forehead against mine, the warmth of his breath fanned against my face.

"I-I know I sound like a creep right now, but you're the only I'd ever told that too, and I-" he cut himself off and slowly let his hands fall from you "you're right, this would be bad wouldn't it?" He muttered it under his breath and stepped back "maybe the hotel would be a good idea, then I can contact someone, I'll get a cab don't worry...." He turned to walk away but this voice in the back of my head told me that this was a mistake.

"Albus wait...."He stopped to look over at me, "if we do this, just promise that this won't be a regular thing, I'm not prostituting myself for a guilt tripper."

"Y-You mean that? That you'll..." He looked between us and I nodded, rolling my head towards the car.

The drive home was quiet, not quite happy and comfortable, but quiet at least. I took him inside and pressed him against the shut door, peppering his pulse with little kisses and grazing teeth. He shuffled awkwardly against the hardwood, moaning from the feeling, with his hands in your hair and your name on his tongue. If this was supposed to affect you, then it was working.

You peeled him off the door and took him to bed, the crimson sheets fading under the moonlight as he softly fell back, his hands tremble for the buttons but a gentle swat from me was enough of a response, one by one they popped off and soon his chest, sprinkled with light hairs and a happy trail, was exposed to the moon.

"Look at you, such a rich colour..." fingertips grazed his chest and he moaned softly in response, all while mumbling pleas and begs "shh, shh, it's alright now" He exposed his neck so I pressed open kisses to the skin and ear "you're safe here." I tugged off my own clothes till it was just us in underwear, the outline of his erection showcasing his desires, I pressed my own against his and lazily rolled my hips.

"Nnngh!" His hands shot up to my waist to hold me in place "I-I had an idea, you said it would be wrong if you took me drunk right?" I nodded as he reached up to grab my cheeks "s-so would it be less wrong if I took the lead?"

"That's probably worse actually," I chuckled while holding his hands "and if you wanted to top, you can."

"A-are you sure?" I pressed kisses to his wrists and palms and rolled over so he was above me now. "Well then, what's our magic word then, darling. I can call you that yeah?"

"Don't see why not" I answered shuffling into a comfortable spot "Well then how about.....'Red, Yellow, Green?'" He chuckled quietly, running a hand through my hair.

"There's beauty in simplicity, and intimacy, I might add." He knelt down and locked his lips on mine, slow, sensual, passionate, and it felt like forever before we resurfaced, a string of saliva connecting us, he dove back in quickly now pecking while moving a hand down to my cock-

....Wait when did he take my underwear off?

"Something wrong?" He whispered against my lips, hands hovering on my hips.

"Nothing, just...lost in my head." He smiled gently, baby-blue eyes twinkling mischievously before returning to kisses. He danced with the grace of experience beyond his age, he looked pretty young so it made sense to me. He took his time for prep, condoms and lube seemingly apporating from thin air, and soon enough he had turned me over.

"I should admit I haven't done this in a while so if I hurt you, please say something." I nodded into the pillows and relaxed, as best as I could but feeling his size slowly enter had panic surging through me, he hushed me with tiny whispers and praise, kissing the exposed skin of my back and gripping me like a vice, once he had reached his base and made sure I was comfortable he lazily rolled his hips, groaning out his praise.

"Merlin's beard you are tight!" He hissed while pressing his body on top of mine "am I the first to have you like this darling?" The words left his lips like steam and I could only nod in response, my voice long since left, "you're doing so well, taking me beautifully." He soon picked up the pace and dropped his butterfly touches in place of a vice around my hips, bruises awaiting the next sunrise "I fear I may not last long."

"S-Sir-" I choked out through the growing haze, I could only feel the tickling strings of his locks caging my head behind an auburn curtain and his lips on my skin felt like magic.

"How are you feeling?" His voiced echoed through the skin of my back, lips gently marking my skin, slowly but with an unrivaled passion I'd ever experience.

It was hard to think through the foggy haze, senses on fire as I knuckled the crimson sheets beneath me, I felt so full of him, borderline painfully but I wouldn't stop him, not when he had begged so desperately for me.

"Perfect, keep going, please." I whispered out, his right kept my hips in place while his left hand found my knuckled one and gently grasped it, rubbing smooth circles against the skin.

After what felt like ages he finally flipped me over to look me in the eye, blue irises sharp like machete blades cutting through my fog, shakingly, I reached up to cup his cheek and he leaned into the touch, the warmth of his blush felt relaxing in the moment.

"Are you close darling?" I nodded "then cum, do it for me." My name left his now hoarse voice as he gripped tight enough to hurt, his command was answered with a euphoric wave up my spine followed by exhaustion. He only lasted seconds longer than me but pulled out to spill into the condom. My eyes felt so heavy, the waking world slipping away until Albus' touch brought me back.

Hushed praise and gratifying kisses washed over me as he took care of cleaning up, I wanted to see if he was okay, but I struggled with my words since we started, so I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

Albus watched with a warmth in his heart, you looked so beautiful to him, you did every night he came to you...

Not that you ever remembered.

This wasn't the first night Albus had come to you, he had seen this house, this bed, your gorgeous face, once a night every month on the anniversary of his lover's departure, and every time you answered his sorrowed prayers with blissful words and passionate sex, he grabbed his wand and clothes from the edge of the bed and escaped to the adjoining bathroom.

"Soborus" he tapped the wand against his head and drained the alcohol from his senses, amber mist flowing into the air and dissipating, he fixed on his suit and crept back out to you, pressing the softest kiss to your forehead as you deserved and held his wand out in front of him with a heavy heart, "obliviate"

...and after a few moments, it was done.

All known memory of him had left you, it was safer for you this way, at least until Gellert was taken care of. "I'll see you next month, my darling y/n."

[discoscoob]

Constellations | Loki x Female Reader

Loki (Marvel) x Doctor Who

Pure fluff and smut of Loki and you making love in a dome observatory beneath colliding galaxies.

Part Ten | Part Twelve | Chapter Index

Words: 5.1k

Warnings: Jotun Loki, smut, oral: male receiving and unprotected sex

Read on AO3

Loki observed you with a raised eyebrow as you returned both the psychic paper and the sonic screwdriver to the Doctors jacket pocket.

 “Did you steal those?” Loki gasped, although you could tell from how exaggerated it was that his shocked reaction was playful.

 “Borrowed.” You corrected him with a shrug.

 “Where is your auntie and the Doctor? Did you... did you pilot the TARDIS yourself?” Now Loki looked genuinely amazed. “How were you able to track me down so quickly?”

 “I connected my consciousness to the TARDIS through the telepathic interface and thought about you a lot and she brought me straight to you...” You affectionately patted at the console like you would a pet. “She’s smart.” 

 But Loki noticed the way your brows pinched together and your eyelids lowered over your eyes as your affectionate patting of the console switched into more of a nervous movement, you were far too interested in tracing the intricate lines which ran between the different toggles and buttons. Loki reached his own hand out to cover yours, to pull your focus back into the moment.

 “What is it?” He gently nudged you.

 “Donna and the Doctor... they found out about New York... about you. I tried to tell them that you weren’t in control... I think the Doctor understood... but Donna... she thinks you made the whole thing up... that you can’t be trusted.” The entire time you spoke, you avoided Loki’s eyes as you kept your gaze focused on your interlocked hands hoping he wouldn’t pull his away.

 “And what do you think?” Loki asked as he brushed his thumb along the back of your knuckles.

 “I trust you... does that make me a fool?” You finally looked into Loki’s eyes, wanting to hold contact as he answered to search for any traces of dishonesty. 

 “Yes,” Loki nodded and your face dropped as your eyes slightly inflated, “if you were anyone else,” he added as he caressed your jaw with his palm. “I don’t know what I have done to earn your trust but it is something that I would never wish to destroy.”

 You leaned your face into his palm with a slight blush as you let your eyes fall shut, you planted a lingering kiss on the back of his wrist. “You had me for a second there.” 

 “Twice in one day.” Loki proudly smirked.

 “Hmm... Moby tho?” You lifted a judgemental eyebrow, recalling your encounter in the Judge’s office, and his face twisted with a cringe.

 “Not my finest moment, I’ll admit.” He chuckled at himself slightly before he began walking backwards, pulling you along with him by your hand. “I have something which I would like to show you.” He told you to ease away the confused crease between your brows.

 Loki quietly guided you through the corridors of the TARDIS, since neither of you wanted to deal with a confrontation from your auntie just yet, you had came to an unspoken agreement that you would avoid her for now.

 “After the Dark Ages... when I...” Loki began, keeping his voice low.

 “Avoided me for three days?” You finished for him and Loki shamefully avoided your eyes as he nodded. 

 “I explored the depths of the TARDIS,” he softly explained after letting a moment of silence wash over the both of you, “and I found a room, which I imagined sharing with you whenever I visited it.”

 By the time he was finished speaking he had halted in front of a sealed door and was grasping both your hands in his own, he let his hands stroke up both your arms, until they eventually reached your shoulders and he manoeuvred you so that your back was facing his front. 

 Loki brought his hands up to your face and used them to cover both your eyes, plunging you into darkness. He felt your eyelashes brush against his palms as you slowly blinked.

 “Do you still trust me?” You felt his breath fan over the shell of your ear from his close proximity.

 “I do.” You confirmed without hesitation.

 You heard the sound of the sealed metal door slide open before Loki guided you forward, your footing was clumsy due to your lack of sight but Loki made sure to keep a slow and steady pace as he walked you into the room.

 You startled slightly once you heard the door seal back shut behind you and Loki soothed you with a gentle shush in your ear before he brought you to a stop. 

 “Ready?” Loki whispered and you nodded before he removed his hands from your face and rested them back on your shoulders.

 Once you blinked your eyes open your breath caught in your throat at the marvellous sight before you. Loki had stood you in the centre of a dome observatory. Beyond the glass panels above you, every colour your eye could see twirled and intertwined, both spiralling and colliding with one another while mimicking the shape of clouds, amongst glimmering Swarovski crystal stars which provided you with the only source of light as they shone down on the pair of you like a mirror ball. The floor of the observatory perfectly mirrored the scenery above, creating the illusion that you were completely submerged in the depths of space, floating between colliding galaxies. 

 The stars reflected in your dilated pupils as your eyes stretched wide with amazement and your jaw dropped as you failed to conjure any words which would come close to justifying how captivated you were by the wonder before you.

 Loki circled you until he was stood before you and you reluctantly pulled your focus away from the stars to instead admire them as they floated in the reflection of his eyes.

 “This morning you asked me something...” Loki began as he held both your hands in his, “you asked to know what I really looked like and I didn’t understand why you would ever wish to see that part of me. It isn’t something which I have ever fully accepted about myself, but it is a part of me no matter whether I like it or not and as your beloved it isn’t right that I hide parts of myself from you, especially since I have gained your trust, you deserve full openness and honesty.”

 “Loki, if you’re not comfortable... I don’t want you to feel forced into revealing your true form to me. I was wrong to pressure you and I should have respected your boundaries.” You admitted making sure that he was sure about his choice.

 “I don’t want to hide anything from you, I’m certain.” Loki assured you before he planted a kiss on your forehead and began backing away, you stepped forward to follow him but he gave you a stern look which told you to remain where you were as he widened the distance between the pair of you.

 Loki closed his eyes and you expected to see the green shimmer wash over his body to reveal his true form but instead a darker shade began to spread over his skin, at first you thought it was a shadow as it creeped over half his face until it began to cover every inch of his skin. 

 Once his entire face turned a cold shade of deep blue, the purples, pinks, reds and greens of the galaxies above reflected off the high points of his face, giving his skin different hues. His cheekbones glowed with a hint of purple, while the bottom of his forehead reflected the green glow, which combined with his skin tone, created a cyan highlight over the top of his eyes, which were still hidden behind his lowered eyelids.

 Markings rose over his face in the shape of fine lines, three of them ran across the side of each cheek just beneath his high cheekbones and another set ran down the front of his chin, while on his forehead three lines ran parallel in the shape of a semicircle which disappeared into his hairline. 

 You looked down to his hands, noticing the blue tone had spread over them by now and just like on his face, thin lines rose across the back of his hands and fingers and his fingernails turned black.

 You chanced taking a step forward but Loki finally lifted his eyes, revealing a pair of crimson irises, and fixed you with a warning look that told you not to come any closer. 

 “Loki, what is it?” You could sense there was a reason he was maintaining his distance and you doubted he was just hoping that you were short sighted so you wouldn’t be able to see him properly from far away.

 “I have never been touched or touched anyone in this form. When I went to Jotunhiem with my brother, the frost giants would give the warriors frostbite from their touch alone. I don’t want to hurt you.” Loki shared his concern with you.

 “But may I come closer? I won’t touch you, I promise.” You paid attention to the hesitant look in Loki’s eye before he subtly nodded and clasped his hands behind his back as you slowly closed the gap between the two of you, until you were about arms length away from him.

 Loki appeared nervous as he let his eyelids cast over his eyes once again and lowered his head to stare at the reflection of the galaxies on the ground, avoiding your curious gaze as you let your eyes cast over every visible inch of his body, amazed by his otherworldly form. He was like nothing you had ever seen before and you were completely captivated by him, even the constellations above couldn’t steal your attention away.

 “Please don’t hide your face.” You softly pleaded.

 “You don’t have to pretend that you find this form appealing,” Loki shook his head letting his dark hair curtain over his face, “I know this is disparate to the standards of beauty on your planet, I do not seek or expect validation, my one and only intention is to honour your trust and be completely open with you.”

 Innately, you reached your hand out with the intention of brushing his hair away from his face and behind his ear, momentarily forgetting about the promise you had made not to touch him. When Loki caught sight of your movement, he flinched and instinctually blocked you by catching your wrist in his fist, causing you both to stiffen with alarm once you realised you had made skin on skin contact.

 Loki snatched his hand away almost instantly, as if he had touched something scalding hot, while you cradled your wrist in your palm and inspected it. To both your surprise, you were unharmed. All you had felt when Loki touched you was a slight chill which rose goosebumps along the back of your forearm, but you received no injury, no frostbite.

 Tentatively, you began stretching your fingers out towards Loki’s hand which hung limply by his side, he warily watched your movements but made no move to pull his hand out your reach since he was just as curious as you were. Your pointer finger lightly brushed against his own, rivalling the touch of a feather, causing his hand to twitch slightly at the ticklish sensation that ran through it. His hand was cold to touch, like he had just came inside from a long walk in a winter storm, but his touch did not hurt you so you slowly reached out further until your fingers were interlocked.

 Loki looked at your intertwined fingers as if his eyes were playing tricks on him before he hesitantly gave your hand a gentle squeeze with his own, just to make sure it was truly there and not a figment of his imagination and you gave his hand a squeeze back in return as you took a step closer to him.

 “I’m not pretending.” You told him honestly and Loki pulled his gaze away from your hands to look into your eyes for any sign of insincerity. “I love the way that your skin glows different hues as it reflects the colours of the galaxies surrounding us.” You traced the pad of your thumb against the purple tone on his cheekbone, as your eyes studied his face, “the way the stars mirror in your eyes, they outshine even the finest rubies.” 

 Loki leaned into your touch as you moved ever closer, you traced the pad of your thumb over the ridges of his face and Loki let his eyes flutter shut in response to your soothing touch. You were fascinated by the perfectly aligned markings.

 “Do all frost giants have identical markings or are they unique to each one, like fingerprints?” You curiously whispered and Loki’s eyelids calmly rose open as he looked down at you, almost dumbfounded by the genuine interest you displayed in his true form.

 “They’re all different...” Loki slowly answered as he watched the way your eyes roamed his form with nothing but pure intrigue.

 Your thumb travelled across his cold skin until you found markings that disappeared under the collar of his shirt. 

 “May I?” You looked up to his eyes for consent as your fingers rested over the top button of his shirt.

 Loki was looking back at you, his cheeks appeared to be a deeper shade of blue than the rest of his face, it almost looked like a blush, while the bottomless depths in the centre of his ruby red eyes expanded, as constellations swirled inside them. “You may.” Loki granted you permission in a hushed tone and you felt his Adam’s apple bop against your fingers as you unfastened the top button of his shirt.

 You loosened his tie and slipped it from his neck, letting it cascade to the floor to be forgotten, before you returned to unbuttoning his shirt. Once it was completely undone, you peaked at his bare chest, the markings from his neck ran parallel along his collarbones and stopped at the edge of his shoulders. A single line ran down the centre of his chest and stopped above his belly button. Two lines on either side ran parallel until they diverged in opposite directions and disappeared around either side of his narrow waist. In groups of three, completely symmetrical lines on either side of his hips, arched down towards his pelvis and disappeared beneath the waist band of his trousers.

 Moving your hands underneath his shirt you gently encouraged it off his shoulders and gravity did the rest to slip it from his body. The same narrow markings ran down his biceps and forearms, the lines spiralled around like the pattern of a candy cane until his elbows where the lines gathered close together and completely circled his arm like a band. 

 “Are you okay with this?” You double checked with Loki, your hands were resting on his shoulders, you didn’t want to push him beyond his comfort, he had remained uncharacteristically quiet the whole time. Loki simply nodded and you furrowed your brows, not entirely convinced.

 “Are you su–“ you didn’t get the chance to finish asking him before he hooked his cold hand around the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine, and he dragged your lips towards his own. His other arm encircled your waist, securing you close to his body, you felt him fist at the back of your thin blouse to drag it out from where it was tucked into your trousers so his hand could gain access beneath it. As his cool fingers ran along the dip of your spine, goosebumps rose along your skin and your fine hairs stood on end.

 “I’m sorry, I just– I never imagined I would ever be touched in this form and even if there was a chance I could be... I doubted anyone would ever want to.” Loki admitted, as he rested his forehead against yours with his eyes closed. 

 You nudged your nose against his affectionately, “I find it difficult to keep my hands off of you.” You admitted as you wrapped your arms further around his neck and pulled him down to once again mould your lips to his.

 Loki could sense from the way you looked at him, your body language and lack of hesitation that this wasn’t a performance, your words and actions were completely true and sincere. The fact he was in his jotun form slipped from the forefront of his mind as he allowed himself to indulge in this moment which he shared with you, without allowing any other thoughts to enter his mind, his attention was entirely focused on you.

 Loki lowered the pair of you to the floor and you prepared for your back to come into contact with the hard surface but instead it met a soft fur blanket and cushions which you were certain hadn’t been there beforehand. You couldn’t be bothered to find the words to question it, instead moans of pleasure escaped between your parted lips as Loki’s cool mouth attached to the column of your neck and left hungry open mouthed kisses down your collarbones and over your chest, as he skilfully unbuttoned your blouse with one hand.

 The fact his lips were cold created a whole new foreign sensation which you weren’t used to and it caused your sensitive body to become even more responsive. Once Loki had slipped your flimsy blouse from your body, you put your palms on his shoulders and pushed until he rolled onto his back and you straddled him. 

 Loki couldn’t hide the stunned expression which crossed over his face from your unexpected gain of control, you wanted to make sure he knew how much you admired his true form and how grateful you were that he trusted you enough to let you see it. 

 “Let me worship you.” You whispered against his icy lips.

 “If you insist.” Loki grinned in return after a short quiet pause where he put little effort in masking the affect your words had on him.

 As you followed the markings on his chest all the way down his belly, to the top of his trousers, Loki sunk his fingers into your hair and gently scratched the tips of his black fingernails over your scalp, which sent pleasant shivers through your entire body. 

 You quickly popped open the button of his trousers and pulled down the zipper, eager to reattach your lips to his cool flesh, you dug your fingers into both the waistband of his trousers and his underwear and dragged them down together until his hard member sprung free.

 “Darling?” You heard Loki whisper and you gently shushed him as you planted warm kisses along his marked thighs, while your hands rested on his bare hips, which involuntarily bucked as your lips moved closer to where he needed you. 

 You purposely made your fingertips lightly drag across the point where his hip met the top of his leg to send a ticklish sensation through his abdomen, you smiled to yourself when you felt Loki squirm slightly beneath you, before you wrapped your fingers around the base of his length and you heard his breath catch in his throat.

 You looked up at Loki through your lashes to find him already staring down at you with his pupils blown and his lips parted ever so slightly. Without breaking eye contact you opened your mouth and licked a stripe straight up his cock from the base to the tip, you weren’t sure where this surge of confidence to take had control come from but the way Loki responded only encouraged you to continue.

 “Gods...” You heard him whisper to himself as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, which fell back limply between his shoulders as his grip in your hair tightened once you wrapped your warm mouth around his cold and sensitive tip.

 You slowly dragged your lips back off his length with hollow cheeks, relishing in the response you gained from Loki, you dared to try and take him even deeper as you reattached your lips and sunk down until you felt his tip at the back of your mouth before you slowly pulled back up.

 “I fear your mouth might take me to Valhalla.” Loki strained as he bucked his hips in search of more friction, your cheeks heated at the praise, spurring you on to please him further.

 Sinking back down on his length, you dragged your hand at his base up and down where your mouth couldn’t reach as you began to bob your head. You felt yourself grow wetter in your underwear simply due to the affect you were having on the God beneath you. Using your free hand you unbuttoned your suit pants and dug your fingers into your underwear to rub the pad of your middle finger over your sensitive clit. 

 Moans escaped your mouth, sending vibrations through Loki’s hard cock which increased his pleasure, he couldn’t control the way his hips bucked into the warmth of your delightful mouth, making you choke slightly as his blunt tip hit the back of your throat. 

 Loki immediately lifted his head to check on you but you had quickly regained your composure as you continued to pleasure him, unfazed, but he noticed your hand buried into the front of your own pants and he drew his brows together because that just would not do.

 Using his hand which was buried in your hair, he gently dragged your head up, causing a whine to leave your throat as he slipped from your mouth but he tenderly soothed you as he brought his hand to your cheek and encouraged you to crawl up his body.

 “What were you doing?” Loki softly asked you, by now both your hands were resting on either side of his head in order to hold yourself up as he stared up directly at you with one hand stroking through your hair, while the other traced patterns along your bare back.

 “Sucking you off?” You answered, but your tone made it sound more like a question as you drew your brows together with confusion.

 “What else.” Loki prompted you and your mind cleared with realisation but you were still confused as to why he was drawing attention to it.

 “Playing with myself...” You said feeling your face begin to flush, certain now that this was the answer that he was looking for. 

 “Mhm,” Loki nodded in acknowledgement before he switched your positions, pushing you onto your back so he was looming over you, his stare grew even more intense as the galaxies were no longer reflected in his eyes causing them to grow darker. “Why?”

 Suddenly you began to grow nervous, like you had been caught doing something you shouldn’t have, “because I wanted to?” You asked, as if he already knew the answer and you were making a guess hoping it was the right one.

 “You wanted to?” Loki cocked his brow, as he slowly trailed his hand down your stomach and buried his hand into your underwear just like you had, you twitched slightly at the cool sensation on your heat, as he dragged his fingers through your folds, gathering your juices on them, he lightly nudged your clit before he pulled his hand back out of your underwear.

 “You’re completely soaked,” he stated, “you resorted to pleasuring yourself while I’m right here and perfectly capable of taking care of all your needs.” If you weren’t mistaken, you’d say Loki seemed almost offended, you weren’t sure if you should’ve apologised or not.

 “What about you?” You tried, after all you were taking care of his needs.

 “My love, I will not see you go neglected as I chase my own pleasure.” Loki told you, as he dragged your trousers and underwear down your legs, revealing your most intimate area to himself and the galaxies above. You moved your legs like you were on an invisible bicycle in order to completely pull them off your body and left them in a messy heap on the floor while Loki unlatched your bra, leaving you completely bare to him. 

 He didn’t hesitate to run the blunt head of his cock over your folds, causing you to jump at the unfamiliar feeling of such a chilling temperature on your heat, you wondered how it would feel inside you. You didn’t have to wait long to find out as Loki began sinking himself into you, both of your senses and sensitivities were heightened due to your contrasting temperatures, you felt every inch of his length drag against your hot walls, while Loki almost came instantly from the feeling of your tight heat surrounding him.

 “Oh my god, Loki,” you gasped as you tightened your arms around him as shivers shot through your spine hand in hand with pleasure while your abdomen tightened and your walls fluttered against his cool length. Loki allowed himself to bask in your response before he began rolling his hips in a steady rhythm.

 Once again you began to move your hand down towards your clit but Loki quickly grabbed both your wrists in his fits and pinned them on the plush cushions scattered around your head.

 “If you keep insisting on taking responsibility for your own pleasure, I will be left with no choice but to restrain you.” Loki warned you and the suggestion sent the pit of your stomach swirling. 

 Loki picked up on the way your eyes widened so slightly at the mere thought of being restrained and completely at his mercy and realised that might be something you would be interested in and he stored it in his memory to explore at a later date, for now he made sure to keep your wrists held together in one of his large hands, as he brought the other down to your neglected clit. 

 Your back immediately arched into his as you gasped with pleasure and he increased his pace, creating more friction for the pair of you. Loki’s marked back glistened with the many hues from above, as it arched and rolled with each hard and direct thrust.

 “Please, Loki...” You whined as you felt your release coiling in the base of your stomach, you just needed a gentle nudge over the edge. You moved your leg slightly, giving Loki the room to change the angle of his deep thrusts and you instantly screamed with pleasure as he unexpectedly hit the perfect spot inside you, instantly sending your orgasm crashing over you as you chanted his name along with some added curse words. 

 Loki came immediately after you as the way your walls clenched around him as your release surged through you had ignited his own explosion. 

 While you recovered from your orgasm, you watched Loki’s face as his eyes closed and his lips parted before a backdrop of constellations which shone behind him like a nimbus and you thought it was the most breathtaking sight you had ever seen.

 As his pleasure gently evaporated, he slipped himself out of you and rested by your side, a warm ivory skin tone began to spread over his body as he returned to his usual form. His body temperature instantly rose and you snuggled into his chest in search of warmth, since laying with his frost giant form had left your own skin cold to the touch.

 Loki conjured another blanket and tucked it snugly around the pair of you as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and secured you in his safe and comfortable hold and you let out a quiet content sigh.

 You believed the moment couldn’t have been anymore perfect, you were resting in the arms of the person you loved, in post orgasmic bliss, underneath a view very few people would ever have the privilege of enjoying. 

 It took you a moment to realise it, but you immediately stiffened as soon as you realised what you had considered Loki as. The person you loved.

 “Are you all right?” Loki lifted his head to look down at you, having picked up on the way your body had stiffened against him and the way your pulse picked up as his felt the beat of your heart hammering against the side of his bare chest.

 “I just... I just remembered what I saw on the projection,” you quickly saved yourself, “will you tell me where it was from?” 

 Now you lifted your head and rested your chin above his armpit as you looked at him with concern, although you were attempting to cover up the real reason you had unexpectedly stiffened, you were still anxious about what you had saw and Loki had promised that he would explain it to you later, you decided what better time than now.

 Loki’s eyelids lowered as he looked down and let his head fall back against the cushions and you noticed the way he swallowed nervously, as you watched him closely in silence, giving him time to gather the right words.

 “Remember how in Pompeii I told you I am a glitch in the timeline and I’m not supposed to exist?” Loki jogged your memory and you nodded against his shoulder.

 “After I attacked New York and I was captured by my brother and the Avengers, I stole the tesseract and used it to escape – in the original timeline that never happened, originally I was captured and Thor took me with him back to Asgard. By escaping with the tesseract I created an alternate timeline of events. The projection was showing me my alternative life... and that moment you saw... that was my death.” You didn’t miss the way Loki’s voice trembled slightly as he explained it to you which caused hot tears to gather underneath the edge of your waterline, while it felt like a fist tightened around your heart.

 “That... that’s not going to happen to you now though, right?” You worried and Loki once again lifted his head to look you in the eye as he rose a comforting hand to your cheek.

 “No, darling. I’m on a different path now. One I am taking with you by my side.” Loki assured you and brought a smile to your lips and a warmth to your chest that soothed your racing heart. 

 You planted a kiss on his lips, pouring all your emotions and feelings into it, which caused it to deepen as your lips moved against each other’s in a lazy rhythm until you lifted away with one last peck before you returned your head to his chest.

 “Let’s sleep here tonight, under the stars.” You said as you closed your eyes, finally realising just how tired you were.

[yandere-daydreams]

Kinktober - Day Nineteen

Prompt: Somnophilia

Pairing: Beelzebub/Reader & Belphegor/Reader (Obey Me)

TW: Non-Con, AFAB!Reader, Non-Consensual Touching, Slight Cockwarming, Orgasm Denial, Thigh-Riding, Dehumanization, and Unfortunate Implications.

You honestly weren’t sure why the twins bothered having separate beds.

They didn’t always get along, you’d been chained to them long enough to know that. Beelzebub could be inconsiderate, with his passive approach and his questionable priorities, and Belphegor was either abrasive, stand-offish, or aggressive. No, they didn’t always get along, and yet, they always ended up in the same bed by the time the sun rose, whether it was Belphegor falling onto Beelzebub’s after hauling himself back to their room in the middle of the night or Beelzebub waking up from an all-too-realistic nightmare and seeking out his closest brother for comfort. One way or another, they slept together, they always slept together.

Which means you always slept with them, too.

It was bad enough to just have Belphegor latched onto you, his head burrowed in your chest and his legs tangled with yours, but it was torture to have Beelzebub block out your only means of escape, slotting himself against your back and burying his face in your hair, one arm folded under his head and the other draped over your midriff. It was too warm, even without a sheet. They were too close, even if neither demon was trying particularly hard to pin you down. It was suffocating. You’d already tried squirming, writhing against Belphegor in hopes of dislodging yourself from his loose grip, but all you’d done was make things worse for yourself.

Because now, he was holding you even tighter, his nails digging into your sides, threatening to draw blood whenever you shifted. You could feel hot breath ghosting over your collarbone, the pointed edges of his teeth nearly making contact with your skin every time his lips parted.

Because now, he was grinding on you.

You cursed under your breath, making a half-hearted attempt to push him away. It must’ve been a dream, a repressed thought, something that spurred him to hump your thigh like a bitch in heat as soon as he wasn’t conscious enough to feel ashamed about it. The rough fabric of his boxers was already irritating you, but it was preferable to having no barrier at all. As long as he could get himself off quickly, quietly, you’d survive. As long as Beelzebub didn’t--

“Are you still awake, (Y/n)?”

Fuck.

There was a rustle from somewhere behind you, a slight dip in the mattress, and then Beelzebub chuckled, looking over the situation with a tired grin and half-lidded eyes. With a hollow thud, he fell back into place, pressing his chest against your back and kissing the top of your head, the gesture much too affectionate for what you already knew he'd say next. “He used to do this all the time, when we were kids,” Beelzebub explained, his voice heavy, trailing into a yawn as he settled against you. “It’s cute, right? Belphie’s always had really vivid dreams… He used to sleep-talk, too. Keep me and Lilith up for hours, when he got into it.”

It might’ve been cute. It might’ve been ironic, if nothing else, if his hand wasn’t already trailing downward, rubbing a slow, comforting circle into your thigh before finding your panties, thick fingers trailing over your covered slit. It was a lazy sort of affection, meant for efficiency more than pleasure, but that didn’t stop the heat pooling in your core or the blood rushing past your ears, your body already trained to know exactly where this was going. “Beel,” You tried, grabbing his forearm. He didn’t seem bothered, though, only leaning over to kiss your cheek as he cupped your cunt. “I just- It’s already pretty late, and I don’t know if I can do this--”

“You don’t have to do anything.” You felt him frown, contemplatively, pausing for a moment before your panties were pushed to the side completely. “I’m just helping out Belphie. He’ll be really happy in the morning, trust me.”

Usually, Beelzebub was the gentler of the two. He liked to take his time, he liked to have your slick staining his chin as kneeled between your legs, he liked for you to be prepared to take him, if only so you’d cry a little less when he finally decided to fuck you. That might’ve been why it hurt so much, despite the wet, audible clicks that filled the room as he forced two fingers through your tight entrance. Beelzebub was supposed to be the nice one. Beelzebub was supposed to be the kind one. He wasn’t supposed to hurt you, not for his own entertainment, not for himself.

But this wasn’t for himself, was it?

It was for Belphegor.

His digits curled, spreading apart, stretching you in a way that made you push your shoulders forward and forget about Belphegor’s frantic thrusts, your mind suddenly on that soft, sensitive spot inside of you, the one Beelzebub was petting and prodding and abusing, like a wild animal that couldn’t decide whether or not it wanted to behave. He didn’t have to cover your mouth, you took care of that on your own, biting down on the edge of your hand as a dozen different kinds of mewls and whimpers threatened to escape. There wasn’t a technique, a strategy - there never was, with Beelzebub. The heel of his palm ground against your clit, his fingers pumped in and out of your pussy, but all of it was messy, reflexive, careless. It shouldn’t have felt good, it shouldn’t have felt like anything, but it did. It did, and you hated him for it.

There was a gentle peck to the back of your neck, one that lingered far past its welcome, and without warning, his free hand snaked under your over-sized shirt, groping and pinching at your chest, doing just enough to make the pulsing in your cunt unbearable. You clenched your eyes shut, forcing yourself to go rigid, but you couldn’t seem to stop yourself from bucking into his hand, from trying to get him to go deeper, to move faster, to do something that’d push you over the edge. For a moment, it even worked, an airy sigh barely reaching your ears as he drew your hips flush against his, as the pressure mounted and he added another finger and, and, and…

And he pulled away, leaving your whining and clenching around nothing as he wiped your own slick on your stomach, keeping a strong arm around your torso as he reached past you. You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes. You couldn’t bring yourself to look, not as something hotter, something bigger than Beelzebub’s fingers pushed into your cunt, not as Belphegor went still and melted into you, and not as Beelzebub laid back down, thoroughly satisfied with his work.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. You weren’t sure what you might’ve said, but you knew it wouldn’t have made a difference. Not one that would’ve mattered, anyway.

They were brothers, after all. They were twins.

Clearly, nothing good would ever come out of trying from get between them.